—Originally written March 23, 2015 —

Field of tulips,

Sway in wild gusts,

Like a cobra,

Entranced by those it once trusts.

Girls and boys barefoot in the fields,

Dancing in the red seas,

With all the young birds,

And their wobbling chickadees.

However the bright reds turn into dull greens,

The soft leaves turn into sharp blades,

And the wild birds,

Turn into debris for the maids.

The field of weeds,

Callused the feet of those crying,

And the remains of their former friends,

Shadow the memories of their dancing.

As vultures wash their beaks,

Men and women run to their young,

Comforting the children,

Like a rib cage protects the lungs.

The children leave the field,

Filled with pins of blood,

And dead tulips,

That grew too fast in the cold mud.

-Kevin Joseph Flors

Thanks for reading. To reiterate, I had originally written this poem on March 23, 2015. I love this poem and I am pretty proud of my progression. Before about a year ago, I never really focused on the flow of a poem, but now I keep that in mind and I think it makes my recent works a bit more elevated.

Planning on posting more frequently. Hopefully biweekly. Planning on book review and basketball post in a bit. Song.

Picture from Pexels


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