His Flowers

His flowers perch along
a blackened windowsill,
each one trimmed to perfection,
blooming at his commands
for a chance of survival.

He dreads the day
when one begins to wilt,
three more usually follow;
he can't bear to train
another bouquet to
thrive within his darkness.

I Really like this poem, Its different for dark. The flowers you would see in a happy poem usually but its always nice to spread your dark poems with pretty little lies.

Anyways this is a great poem!,
Im getting the vibe that the flowers represent something (i like the hope idea) and that when one falls others soon follow. How interesting!
Whats more is that he has gone through many flowers before, many many flowers... So you know that he has lost his hope so many times.

With this i still pick up that there is hope, if he has lost previous flowers and has gained more then you know that for this person hope will always exist. Its a sweet beautiful thing!

Ill have to check the book out

Oh this is such a chilling piece Hannah. At first, I thought flowers on windowsill just feels odd in the Darkness category!! Then I read on and felt the metaphor being born, like the flowers represent something. After the first read, I thought the flowers represented souvenirs, perhaps from murdered victims, and he collected them. Then after reading a few more times, I came up with the idea that these flowers are actually his victims? Perhaps women, or young children which he has kidnapped and trained up to obey him. This is such a chilling idea, and the idea of training another bouquet, gives the impression that he has now become an expert at this, and has done it many times in the past.

This is an amazing poem, and I enjoyed seeing something dark from you!

I really like the imagery you have painted in this poem! The blackened windowsill really stands out to me. You have truly enriched this poem with such insightful meaning and depth it makes me want to read the novel that inspired you!

His flowers perch along
a blackened windowsill,
each one trimmed to perfection,
blooming at his commands
for a chance of survival.
^^
I can see this so clearly - I love the nature in which you write, it flows so well, allowing the reader to enter a realm of this picture standing at this windowsill watching these perfect blooming flowers. To me I take it as nurture and care - gardening is a hard task and it takes a lot of duty and care to ensure that the plants and flowers bloom and grow so healthy. I can see an old man looking after these flowers like it is his own child so cautious and fatherly, hoping so desperately inside that they continue to survive

He dreads the day
when one begins to wilt,
three more usually follow;
he can't bear to train
another bouquet to
thrive within his darkness.
^^
Wow Hannah- this stanza truly digs deeper into your characterisation as well as the relationship between who he is as a person and how it connects to his love of flowers. A darkness grows inside him and the flowers are the dying hope that inspires him to continue and if they dont survive it not only destroys the life of the flowers but also the life of its creator.

Such a lovely write Hannah

5/5 from me