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Grown To Die

Grown to Die By Valerie D. Staton Beautiful and fragrant is how we’re described Yet they cut us, as soon, as we arrive Crammed into vessels with limited space, To put a smile on another one's face They place us on tables, watch us decay Then quickly toss, our fragments away We sprout, then blossom, within days, we die That is a cut flower’s cycle of life.

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Gershon Wolf

Date: 1/9/2019 7:40:00 PM

Love the poem, and love Janice's comment too (drop down)… An idea: There's a four-line poem by Samuel Hoffenstein, which I first read in a small anthology (1st line is -- You buy some flowers for your table), that is remarkably similar to your poem here. It shows that you've got 'it,' Valerie! :) gw

Valerie Staton
Date: 1/9/2019 8:25:00 PM

Thank you for your kind words. Your feedback is appreciated.

Caren Krutsinger

Date: 1/7/2019 8:53:00 PM

Valerie, your poem shares my feelings exactly about cut flowers. I tell my husband "only plants, I will accept no cut flowers," for I do not want to be their death-meister. I like this one a bunch, Valerie. I would have labelled it personification for sure!

Valerie Staton
Date: 1/9/2019 8:28:00 PM

Thanks for reading. Your feedback is important.

Michael Wise

Date: 1/7/2019 6:22:00 PM

Sad, and sweet, and true. I think we tend to forget that they are living beings too. :)

Valerie Staton
Date: 1/9/2019 8:26:00 PM

Thanks for reading my work. I appreciate your point of view.

Janice Canerdy

Date: 1/7/2019 12:50:00 PM

This is a beautiful piece, Valerie. If flowers could talk . . . ! Janice