Irony Of Potted Wildflowers Poem by Miss Print

Irony Of Potted Wildflowers



The youth is a liquefied mass, mottle
The most moldable phase of existence
We are poured into a cork less bottle
An exposed soul with its glass residence

Sky is visible, from an absent lid
And the blinding sunlight is frightening
Ourselves, lost, unknowing our journeys mid
Or the day, salvation enlightening

One day we will be molded completely.
Solid forming, a lifetime of influence,
That shaped our being to grow so neatly.
But into what? We sit in ignorance

Grown in captivity, persona “ours”
Irony of potted wildflowers

Friday, October 2, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: captivity,youth
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Hans Vr 03 October 2015

Love it, Let us all jump out of the pot.

1 0 Reply
Kelly Kurt 03 October 2015

Wonderfully metaphorical. Thanks, Ms. P

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