Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Guest Poet: Stephen Torelli

The Ironic Garden

Born in a garden the plans begin;
the courageous commander submits to sin.
He plans his carnage and promotions too
within the garden’s quilted hue.
Fountains, flora, and fauna galore,
warring warriors at destiny’s door.
Death and horror are his show…
it ain’t TV or radio.

Peaceful gardens it may seem
are the center of mankind’s dream.
And though the General drafts his plan
without the help from any man,
what are the garden’s astounding sights
that assist this soldier with his plight?
Is it the roses, and violets too,
or the spangled sunlight’s hue?

Popping poppies in this patch,
posing posies here to match.
Tangled tulips for your eye,
budding blossoms make you sigh.
Willowy willows on that site,
brilliant buttercups shine at night.
Pungent peppers for your taste;
Poisoned pears…don’t make haste.

Hatched in a garden, the plans are complete,
twisted tombstones at your feet.

© Stephen Torelli 2011

Stephen Torelli teaches Citizenship in a New York City High School and frequently contributes to The 6S Social Network.

1 comment:

  1. I liked the question posed at the end of the first stanza. And the second stanza is filled with lots of dancing on the tongue. Enjoyed it.


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