THE MENDING FLOWERS

rough times are very hard to swallow.

The owl howls high above,

swirling sorrows straps the soul:

fly no more like a dove

the blessed beats of heart beat to lull.

fingers fumble through the fog of salvation,

muted mouths learn to mimic

pleading prayers of supplication,

 while the daunting demons allude to dreaded gimmicks.

cry crystal tears

cry cold calls of fears

time teases the restlessness,

steering seconds into sluggish carelessness.

gallop the grinds to gasp the ease

sail your sadness over seas

wallop,wallop the jeering hours

plow the plants of the mending  flowers.

Reviews

[Alfred Kukitz]

Aside from the obvious rhyme scheme the rhymed words seem to have a bite that gave the poem it's energy. Once again Latifa an excellent write.

[Latifa]

thank you for the review

[Alfred Kukitz]

I'm on the east coast of the United States. It's noon. What time is it in Algeria?

[Latifa]

17:21pm it's afternoon