Pedal Mosaic

Personal Rearrangement

Devils take shape of many form,

Born from pedals fallen, counted, mourned,

One pedal to the ground, she loves me not,

As others follow, my count, I forgot,

Criss-cross on pedal carpet,

In hand, the stems,

A Basket,

Innocent cradle of colors,

To most; to me,

A Casket,

Drastic attempts for frantic flower reconstruction,

Its possible, lest I fall for Devil seductions.

Author's Note

Any feedback is greatly appreciated :)

Reviews

[Ana B.]

aren't we all falling for Devil's seduction.... a remarkable poem dear EO. In our drastic atempts we do sometimes create beauty....hence the devil's breath upon our neck :D

[~EO]

thank you Ana B.; again your lovely words compliment every reason why i love to write.

[Ana B.]

:) well, i do hope writing brings happines in your days EO.

[~EO]

If not happiness, stability :)
And i wish the same for you!

[WordShaker33]

A very beautiful poem. I feel as though this poem was somewhat about unwanted love, because it makes you feel trapped or locked in a cage. I may be wrong, but regardless I love the beauty of this poem. Great work :)

[~EO]

The beauty of writing, especially poetry; is that it is left up to interpretation, in which leaves the reader to decide for themselves. But thank you.