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Poem: Quince


(For National Poetry Month I am writing a stream-of-conscious poem per day. Each poem is  a spontaneous poem single edit – could get messy!  Here is Poem #17.)

pink blossoms blooming,
sweeter than your perfection;
petals swirling in the breeze,
dancing softly like your hair.

enticing scent luring bees
in lurid lust of pollination.
swelling fruit on every branch
growing firm beneath this summer sun.

perfumed breezes whispered enticement
and our ripe fulfillment was consumed;
astringent fruit bitter aftertaste
leaving sorrowful wisdom on our tongues.

too late we learned the lessons
of alluring goodness and the high
price of secret pernicious truth.
we are outcast and exiled;

burning swords now bar the way.
still please know this my dear,
i’d rather burn in naked hell with you,
then live in naked blissful innocence.

see how the seeds we planted grow.

 

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