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Pete Crompton

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the way of the flower

The way of the flower

I often thought of you
In the way of the flower
sunlit hour
sharing the open petal
colour warms
the stamen spawns
Another day together
But with life limited
In vase, a sachet
Could not prolong
As sharp became
The fleshy tongues of passion
We wilt in criminal fashion
Under the cold heat of time.
The lead and the ashen pages
Our skin a wrinkled caress
And lately
pollen dust
Totally fragile
upon on my breath
Should I disturb,
Forgive me
I tried to curb
Those words
I never whispered
I never waived
But I had to say
I’m leaving.

Peter Crompton (C) 2007
Tue, 2 Oct 2007 01:37 am
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Pete Crompton

once again may I thanks you and say what a pleasure it is for me that you enjoy reading this poem.

I don't know where they come from but I do know that I have an urge to write it and it comes over like a flush, I have to run for pen and paper but most poems are written straight into microsoft word.

this poem about the flower, I had not seen the 'Death' angle that you mention and I would say that is a product of my sub concious, I see it now though. The idea was that a partner did not want to leave a relationship and had always seen the lover as fragile and delicate, but after time had wrinkled the pair of them and after the fleshy tongues (of love making) became sharp tongues (of the vitriolic) he / she plucked up courage to leave and could find no soft (whisper) way to put the words, he/ she had become pollen dust, the slightest word would rupture, the carcass of the flower by this time had dried, and the vase water was low(ashen skin etc) also the dryness was thought of in a sexual way to under closer analysis and perhaps the male had had a sharp tongue deliver of a guilt ridden line like perhaps' you make me dry' maybe he felt rejected he no longer turned her on, or that the grey or thinning hair made him feel unloved. the criminal wilting part is the fact that she loved him anyway and it was HIS own interpretation of the relationship that was wrong, he left never knowing why.

They became a memory and a monument to the interpersonal failings inherited (probably) from childhood, his soul and aura however were intact from birth. that is why it was criminal.

that is my own self interpretation anyway!!!

don't know if that confuses you or spoils the poem Sophie.


Tue, 2 Oct 2007 02:36 pm
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Pete Crompton


forgot to say that my interpretation of my own poem does not necessarily indicate what it is actually about.
Tue, 2 Oct 2007 02:40 pm
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"We wilt in criminal fashion
Under the cold heat of time.
The lead and the ashen pages
Sounded to me the relationship was under pressure
Like petals in a flower press.
they dry up and lose colour.
An very original theme. Goodwork
Tue, 2 Oct 2007 02:49 pm
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