Crisp within her vase,
dead red roses on display;
fragile in the light.
Lack of sickly scent.
Seeing beauty in decay;
brittleness deflects.
Look but do not touch,
your fingers are forbidden;
petals turn to dust.
Floral deviance
delighting in senescence;
ring of rosy death.
Ta Ray!
Fine imagery and worthy in every way. The great thing about senescence is its rarity and virgin quality, and it rhymes with essence, pubescence presence; the list could go on. A Pandora's box.
Fabulous. Ray
Cheers chaps!
Ooo yes, senescence is one of my favourite words - the sound, the process, love it. I included it in another poem about how we never really die, how our skin cells enter other people through their mouths and noses :) It was called Rebellious Senescence :D
Look forward to your gothic horror sequence :D
Brilliant, Laura, love it!
great stuff. the word crisp is fantastic isnt it. senescence is a new one on me and thus i am thankful. i'm halfway through a gothic horror haiku sequence. i shall post later as it seems haiku are en vogue.
Thank you very much Rob :) Yeh, that's another one of those pesky rules innit, if you're writing a series of them, they have to be able to stand alone, and my Arrested one didn't (although I had a lot of fun writing it ha).
Laura - This is beautiful. Each stanza stands on its own merits as a complete haiku itself. Wonderful stuff.
Rob
One of the first haiku I ever tried my hand at. It was sparked by entering a new friend's house and seeing her vase of dead red roses. I had the exact same thing at home, and never thought anyone else would want to keep dead flowers :D It told me an awful lot about her. I preferred them dead, tbh. Something special about them.
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Martin Elder
Sat 23rd Apr 2016 18:25
Beautiful Laura