at the moment of their growing, at the moment of their giving shade, at the moment of their falling

Once upon a lively hour

  there grew a sprightly flower

But before I can rightly say sprightly

  the flower struggled daily and nightly.

Trapped under the ground in a seed

  it wanted only to be freed.

So it pushed and sought for the top

  to live with the other crop.

But to no avail the flower did remain

 to struggle until the next rain.


Alone in a field today

  a flower peaked above in dismay.

But why should it be sad?

  Its hardships had made it mad.

When the sun shone bright

  the flower grew in spite

    and became a plant of bad.


Harlequin said...

a not so subtle commentary on false meritocracy... nasty wherever/whenever it happens, and especially so when its perpetrators
( seem ) oblivious to its reality and their roles within it... sigh

still... most of what I value most about my own character are those features forged in the crucible of bullshit and injustice... sailing through the storm is at worst a story needing a voice and a bard
and at its best a story needing a voice and a bard...
thanks for this story of this flower's storm

Jon said...

fun poem...

love it!

and even more so the title and the movement of time there... timeless more like... or the time in between?

thanks for this

Derliwall said...

I'm not sure where that poem even came from...

I really like the title really captures the flow of time like you say Jon...the time in between having and losing your authenticity...

thanks Harlequin for your're right...storms are character building

but....sigh...sometimes the storms seem so unecessary (the flowers get overwatered and the wind nearly rips them from the soil...)