Death To Flowers

Poem By Russ von Ohlhausen

Death to Flowers

Green, in bloom;
Lined in garden rows;
Sweet their fragrance,
Barely have they bud;
So worthy of freshest life,
March these Flowers.

Cut down for this cause;
Cause of some futile moment.
Death, in the field,
Sun dries their fading glory.
Dreams wither, wasted,
For this word ‘glory’, beauty taken.
Soon to push flowers.

March the Flowers;
And with flowers resting at their feet.
We send new Flowers.
Endless rows to discard.
To the ground we send them.
Where all the Flowers have gone.

-Arel
(Regarding the 2nd Iraqi War)

Comments about Death To Flowers

There is no comment submitted by members.


Rating Card

2,7 out of 5
10 total ratings

Other poems of OHLHAUSEN

Poets Are Losers

The art of the word yields little fruit when it's first conceived;
It must take root and grow in passionate minds if ever to be received.
A craft much learned of sadness from this world we’re in,
As we suffer right along until our solemn end.

Beautiful Destruction

A rough rain falls on the river running as a
fisher casts over tainted water, and
Black blood burns as the wars are raging and the
soldiers argue who’s hell is hotter.

Envy The Common Man

How I envy the Common Man,

To live in the world that we create.
To drift on the winds with no debate.

Lost In Thought

(A fun little diversion)

I thought I thought a thought,
a thought I thought I thought.

God

I melt with the snow on the tops of mountains
I babble with the voice of the humble waters
I sip from the lake on the open plains

Edge Of The Dream: Becoming The Creator

In the time before Time, there was the void of nothing that was not known,
for nothing existed to know it.
The Creator was not then the Creator
for nothing was then created.