In ones, twos, threes,
Little groups,
They fall,
Into the lap of their Maker;
Still looking gorgeous…
Missed badly by their grieving
Loved ones
Still left on the tree…
Who knows;
Certainly not those
Innocent flowers,
Where their Maker
Will throw them into next;
what permutation,
which combination.
Inside a book,
Or around a temple idol's neck,
In a woman's hair,
Or in a flower seller's basket,
In a brothel or a home
A tulip, orchid, or a rose,
A dog, cat, bird, reptile, or a human.
I found this poem to be entrancing I like to be taken by surprise and after the first couple of lines I was verbally whisked away with the poets imagination.Lovely
A wonderful poem about the life of flowers and how they are connected to our existence. Nicely crafted with a soothing flow it makes interesting reading. Thanks.
A beautifully articulated poem trying to find the link between the flowers fallen from their trees and the philosophy of the cycle of life, death and rebirth. Thanks, Jasbir ji, for sharing. This is another example of the power of your discerning observation and its interpretation.
Thanks, Rajnishji, for your kind appreciation. I hope you are getting on well too.
Thanks, Rajnishji, for your kind appreciation. I hope you are fine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An excellent poem. Liked the permutations and combinations expressed in this wonderful poem. Your middle stanza articulates in a nutshell what a vicious circle is all about. Top score.