This Poem was Submitted By: lonnie hicks On Date: 2002-08-03 15:12:33 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Culture Flowers

Lashed I to Cultural Helms besodden ingrained eyes narrowed to squinty plane seeing not seeing only mine and not mine blind. Culture is the Gardener's Death kind to only one flower; other's bloom in his dark by blindness over-powered. Strained I  against the mast my own garden to cultivate but time and my own past cause all my flowers to bloom and wither smelling all the same. Tempted I  by soul's desire to look beyond these walls: But I cannot, but lift my spade and plow these same furrows which etch my brow contain my life until my death having known only a single flower: grown beautifully in these straight and narrow furrows. in my life grown in these straight and narrow, narrow furrows.   

Copyright © August 2002 lonnie hicks


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