Here’s a tiny collection of miniature poetry.
Each stanza is a disjoint piece.
‘Cloak your soul like a lily,’
They said, ‘behind tall walls of stone,’
But curiosity killed the innocent,
Half a fortnight till you’re gone.
A myriad of wilted orchids
Scattered on the floor
Broken and distorted, saying
‘There must be something more…’
Tulip sneaks out every night
To kiss her dreams goodbye
Her soul illuminates their world;
She aspires to touch the sky.
Dressed in lavender aroma and
Dainty rows with lipstick smear,
They’ll sell you out at harvest:
They love the insincere…
The oceans may have sorrow
That storms strive to explain;
Only those with hearts to borrow
Bleed with sunflowers in the rain.
T. E. Pyrus