Smell the rot
beneath the roses,
steeped in mud
around the bower.
festoon the arbor
all you’d like
the stench remains
through eyes’ delight.
arranged bouquets
stripped bare of thorns
from loamy mulch,
are petals born.
A trip through life with fingers crossed and eternal optimism.
Doing the best I can with what I have
kind of sad, but not so bad with cheese. cheese not provided.
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Life in a flash - a bi-weekly storytelling blog
MARK PETRUSKA | WRITER
Short essays about novels and other fictional works
By Ian Garrabrant
Home of Micropoetry, Literature, art and philosophy.
Just a fiction writer, trying to reach the world.
I'd curtsy but I'm drunk.
Praying for Eyebrowz 
Life and nature as cycles. Your bouquet is lovely, yet it’s the “stench” you wanted us to smell that lingers after reading these verses!
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I’m weird like that.
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You mean poetic.
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When I was young we used to have multiple vases with cut flowers around the house, and my duty was to change water every second day and pinch off the withered flowers. After a week or so I had to replace the bouquet and wash the vase. Stinky job it was 🙂 I don’t have any vases for years. If I get an occasional bouquet, I put it in some plastic bottle for a couple of days and dump the whole thing. Yet, I appreciate the houses that are lovely decorated with floral arrangements. Childhood rules.
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I’m with you! Occasionally I’ll buy cut flowers, but I don’t mess with them much except to toss them when they get all icky.
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Yes, no recycling of any vessels 🙂
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