On Friday night
the doorbell rang.
She opened up
and there he stood,
in his hands
a sunset of roses,
plump petals
fragrant with promises.
By Monday
they had wilted,
petals browning,
stems slimy, pungent,
sick with stagnant
water, in a storm
of greenfly.
Kim M. Russell, 2017
Another poem in response to dVerse Poets Pub Quadrille
De is our host today and she has chosen the word ‘storm’. I’m sorry, I got a little hooked on flowers tonight!
writing in north norfolk 
This is really visceral – amazing amount of emotion summed up by a bunch of fading flowers.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Once the rot sets in …
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh, my. I can only assume the relationship itself has also gone south. What a descriptive way to say so. Wonderful.
LikeLike
Cut flowers don’t last long. I had not thought of aphids being a reason they don’t keep very long.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Aphids are most active in spring and summer and if they are tucked away inside petals or on the back of leaves, apart from the damage they inflict directly by removing plant juices, they carry virus diseases. I prefer to keep roses outside in the garden where they can continue to thrive and bloom.
LikeLiked by 1 person
This reminds me of the sick rose by Blake… and the symbolism it carries.
LikeLiked by 1 person
What a comparison – thank you, Bjorn!
LikeLike
The whole piece is excellent, but this is particularly stunning: “in his hands / a sunset of roses”
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much!
LikeLike
I love the term “sunset of roses”… but it seems he didn’t last any longer than the roses. There’s a story here!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I think it’s the precursor to a poem I’ve written for this Tuesday’s Poetics – definitely a story, Bev!
LikeLike
I love the whirlwind of emotion in this, Kim 🙂 especially love; ‘a sunset of roses,plump petals fragrant with promises.’
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Sanaa!
LikeLike
Aw, the roses were just a blight. That was very reflective. I”m sorry, i hope the ending was more meaningful than the weekend
LikeLiked by 1 person
The roses were a sweetener before the let-down, I think. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh, like sugar free candy, tastes a
LikeLike
Sunset roses do carry the approaching dark. Beautiful.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Sumana!
LikeLike
Ah, men and roses. Some just don’t have much staying power… Love a sunset of roses. Perfect!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Sarah!
LikeLike
Was he Greek? (Is that too obscure?) I love the flow of this poem… and the flow of the events.
LikeLiked by 1 person
😅 I got the Greeks bearing gifts reference, Charley! Thanks!
LikeLiked by 1 person
…oh my…and the relationship? Please tell me it did not become slimy, pungent???
LikeLiked by 1 person
😕😱😊
LikeLike
Flowers are a reminder of loves blush
LikeLiked by 1 person
That’s true!
LikeLiked by 1 person
This read to me as a well thought-out metaphor about the quality of the encounter. Slimy!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh yes!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Really enjoyed this pessimism. Courting can be such a lie, on both sides.
It shows the opportunistic sides of Sapiens: presenting a different self, to obtain entry.
Nicely woven.
I had to look up “greenfly” — apparently a Britishism for Aphid.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks for reading and for your kind comments, Sabio. I call them aphids sometimes but mostly greenfly – my grandfather always called them that! Relationships can be so tricky, even when you think you know someone, and I’m not a great fan of cut flowers. Honesty is always the best policy.
LikeLike