Daffodils on my table
stand in a coffee pot.
The pot is cream and gold and green,
so pretty, I use it as a vase.
The daffodils on my table
never bloomed.
But they are dying.
Maybe it’s too warm.
I bought them from a roadside pail.
They stood proud, gold and green;
full of promises suppressed.
Now, fat buds are soft,
rotting on the stem.
Smelling sour as love.
They never opened
I think I’ll leave them on my table
though.
Just to remind me.
"Pail" indeed! What's wrong with bucket? You're getting more "hyacinth" than Foxglove!"
Leaves a bitter aftertaste this.
Regards,
A.E.
I've had this happen a few times too... : /
Ahhh right..well fancy that.
Have changed a couple of things. Got rid of "soggy". And Ray, you are right, the sour love is the point.
Like it, Ann.You probably need a semi-colon after gold and green.
Yet still they are dying.
That phrase sounds wrong.still dying? Something like "They die slowly" would be better, I think.
I liked "sour as love", thought it was the crux of the poem. I think the next 2 lines are superfluous, though, and the ending more pointed without them.
I like this Ann...but a little quibble...sour as 'love'? Feels discordant to me that. There's a lovely alliteration to the title, and I love that last verse
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Cynthia Buell Thomas
Tue 24th Jan 2012 12:23
I always like your mind, Ms Oxley. The last stanza is very Miss Haversham - deliberate soul-destruction.
Your personal photo is fab.