Poem -

flowers don't dance

And what of those days
When the sky is not blue 
But suffocating.
When the trees are not perfect or
gently serene but, advance with
malevolance, there but unseen
When grass grows too sharply to
comfort the eye and the
flowers don't dance but edge
Stealthily by. With knives.
what of those days?

M ~

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Comments

author
Shirley Harrison

Absolutely stunning poetry, everyday is certainly different especially inside our souls, today positive yesterday terribly dark, life has a funny way of doing that to us, through grief and so much more, but to always remember these days are good and bad there is an eventual balance, your poetry as it always is, incredibly powerful and poetic and speaks to the reader. A beautifully created piece my dear Marion.   ♄ 

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author
Marion

Aw thankyou, as ever for your beautiful comment my friend..hugs x

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author
Rory McGinlay

When the grass grows too sharply 
To comfort the eye.

I miss that comfort, and too well know the betraying sharpness the terrible eye can bring with ordinary beautiful things

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author
Rory McGinlay

Mind would you if I ripped you off? 

I too know the betraying sharpness the terrible eye can bring with ordinary beautiful things.

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author
Marion

Words are everyone's R...its what you do with them. I have read your work and you have created something really wonderful my friend ..hugs x

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Rory McGinlay

I can appreciate this, not all of us think this 

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author
Marion

Shit..what's one word between mates lol...shut up.before i charge you but to be honest 
I read your work before I read your comment here and nothing of the sort ever occurred to me. Your poem is as different from mine as could be and....better too.  Hugs x

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author
Marion

And just to clarify things for me are we actually having a conversation over the word ...sharp...? Lol 😂 😆😆
get a life đŸ€©đŸ˜†x

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author
Rory McGinlay

I think it's more conceptual than that, but it seems not đŸ€” all you need to know is you are an inspiration 

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author
Marion

So are you...truly 😊

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author
Being Me

Those are the days you stay inside, beneath a duvet, and write your heart out. Well, you did ask! 

Another awesome poem, Marion  xx

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author
Marion

How did you know lol...course you do. 
Exactly right love...maybe a sleeping pill too!! xx

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