Teacup on the tabletop
With blossoms rising 'till they drop.
The buds are fresh but soon to bloom,
They see the gardener's sickle loom.
The porcelain birds and blossoms bend,
Their feathers reach up to pretend
To be a part of foliage green
With hues as deep as seas Aegean.
While painted plaster outlasts all,
Irregardless Spring or Fall,
Ceramic birds sing with a sigh
That flesh or stone, all men must die.
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 7:00 AM UTC
Teacup on the tabletop
With blossoms rising 'till they drop.
The buds are fresh but soon to bloom,
They see the gardener's sickle loom.
The porcelain birds and blossoms bend,
Their feathers reach up to pretend
To be a part of foliage green
With hues as deep as seas Aegean.
While painted plaster outlasts all,
Irregardless Spring or Fall,
Ceramic birds sing with a sigh
That flesh or stone, all men must die.
This is my first upload. I wrote this poem while procrastinating study for my final school exams. I was studying Dickinson at the time, which probably inspired the hymnal verse and natural and mortal themes.
I was inspired by a flower I had on my desk at the time. Watching it wilt over time made me think about beauty and mortality. I hope you enjoyed this. If I get a positive response I will upload more poems like this.
