Flower Voyeur

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
the beauty of flowers is reflected upon

Submitted: May 19, 2013

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Submitted: May 19, 2013

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Brilliantly red stamen 
wave towards me,
arranged spectacularly.

Subtle variations,
of colour and shape, 
assault the senses.

Beckoning,
seducing,
enticing

the observer 
to touch or s m e l l
this wondrous thing.

Eyes rove 
around, across, back, into,
every aspect.

Beauty beholden to
every sense.

As if created 
for this purpose,
for my
sensual pleasure.

for my 
acute eyes,
subtley  sublime
variations 
in colour.


for my
sharp mind,
elusively elegant
interplays 
of structure.

for my
inquisitive nose,
delicately deliberate
zephyrs
of perfurme.


appreciated through
my
senses and 
my intellect,
a wondrous 
incredulous, beauty.

Darwinian thoughts intrude,
flowers appeared,
before (anything)
like me,
well actually,
one hundred and forty
million
years 
a
g
o.

Before anything
remotely
like
me.

Not for me,
then.
Not remotely 
even possibly
for me 
or my senses
or my intellect. 
Or for
me.

This display
is not for me. 
This wonder
is for
something someone
else.

Another
beholder is to
be seduced
enticed swooned
by colour
and structure.

No. Not for me.

I am just
a voyeur,
observing another's
seduction,
from 
e
o
n

a g o.

 

 

 

 


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