Poem of the Day: “plastic roses” and an alternate version…


plastic roses

i am too old
to whisper plastic roses

my throat is full of cicadas
singing songs to the moon
shipwrecked in my heart

Note: and right below it, on the day i wrote it, i re-wrote it like this:

plastic roses

i am too old to whisper
plastic roses in your ear

my throat is full of cicadas
singing songs to the moon
shipwrecked on the shores
of my heart

Note:  This poem in my notebook deepening the map, seemed at the time to be poignant and appropriately brief.

This morning however, months and months later,when writing it out, it seemed to want to be a different poem, and it came out like this.  I like them both

plastic roses

i am too old to kneel
and weed the neglected beds of others,
too experienced and real
to whisper plastic roses

my throat is full of cicadas
singing songs to the moon

shipwrecked in my heart
a castaway, at peace
with the island

please feel free to comment and let me know what you think, for i am curious.

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