Very Bad Poetry

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Poem 249

Very Bad Archive

Tiny Time

Robert Hawkins

I stare, the small cluster of flowers.
Torn from the vine,
Growing up the trestle,
Just out my front door.

My head propped by my arm,
Flowers on my desk.
Four white petals form each bloom.
Eight or more white whiskered filaments,
Protrude from its apex.
Its center a tiny cushion of yellow down.
Several other buds would be blooms,
Had I not torn its stem away.

My head propped I stare at the flowers.
I begin to see them as miniature stars.
I wish I had gone to the flowers,
Instead of bringing the flowers to me.
I am going to keep this tiny time.
A moment with small flowers,
When I saw their stars.
rlh

note:
Honey De, I put a bull eye on me with that one huh.

Robert Hawkins has published 2 more terrible poems since joining on 30/11/99. Read more of Robert's terrible poetry at the anthology. Here are three of Robert's latest works:

Ask Yourself

Submitted Jun 21st 2011, 18:21

Liken Mind

Submitted Jun 21st 2011, 16:29

Then What About You

Submitted Jun 13th 2011, 20:51