Just Tell Me

by BOB GALLO   Mar 22, 2022


Tell me why flowers
do not last.
Tell me why butterflies carve
the farewells of their splendours
on the tombstones of empyrean wings.

why
they draw their colours
from the floriferous crayon boxes
of childhoods,
and why hummingbirds
dip their beaks
in the aqueous watercolours
of the tunes
my mother whispered.

Tell me why the peduncles of sentiments
shoot out and bloom
only on our sorrows' sediments.

Tell me why the world is more riveting
in our pasts.

Tell me
if there is a place
that all the butterflies migrate.
Tell me that the world
is not bleeding out beauty.

Tell me
there is another world
made from the pixels' flocks
of all those migrant splendours;
tell me I am, my heart, is
made from the pixels' flocks
of all those
migrant splendours.

Tell me why everything fetching and fair,
is fleeting

Tell me why the remains,
the residues,
are only
the cold unbeating rocks.

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Latest Comments

  • 2 years ago

    by BOB GALLO

    I really appreciate your time.
    I apologies I left a wrong comment here before by mistake.

    Thanks to you both lovely people.

  • 2 years ago

    by prasanna

    Now this is real poetry. Glad to see this nominated!

  • 2 years ago

    by Meena Krish

    This is a tender write with life's simple questions been asked and it leaves me as a reader silenced and deep in thoughts..

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