Lilies of the Field

by IRENE FOWLER, Contributor

“Solomon in all his glory was not dressed as beautifully as they are.”
– Matthew 6:29

“The fountain of love is the rose, and the lily the sun and the dove.”
– Heinrich Heine

“And the stately lilies stand fair in the silvery light,
like saintly vestals pale in prayer. Their pure breath
sanctifies the air, as its fragrance fills the night.”
–  Julia C.R Dorr

To read Irene’s new poem “Lilies of the Field” click:

Lilies of the Field

by Irene Fowler

Mankind is seeded, manured, wetted, pruned; ripe and ready for amoral, criminal pickings
Snared in knifelike thorns and poison ivy; rabidly biting and viciously kicking
As the acrid bitterness and unsightly bile, rise to the top
Absent any security net and with the safety plugs undone, yea; unlocked
Humanity has lost the rational, positive, life-affirming plot
Still the ho-hum, frenetic, wheelin’ and dealin’ carry on, despite the festering rot.

Tsunamis of insane sociopathy, swell deep, wide, rivers of human blood and misery
Ego, greed and violence, win the day, day-by-day
Goodly, calmer, convivial heads; seem not to prevail
As haters, kleptos, fabulists and warmongers, stand watch over countless funeral briars
Their handiwork an offering, homage and altar; to Hades, Thanatos, Whiro, Lilith and Loviatar.

The lamenting lilies of the field; wither, wilt and weep
Fretful young children, counting too many sheep, so as to fall asleep
Whilst the world lies in the cruel jaws and iron claws, of nature’s soulless, human freaks
The nightingale, thrush, cardinal, canary, blackbird and wren chirp their sweet, pretty dawn songs
As though willing to right the awful and dreadful mounting wrongs.

Earth, air, water and fire; in an elemental uproar, angrily recoil and boil
Creation revolting against the rapacious planetary turmoil
Fervid bettors macabrely wager the survival odds of a troubled world, in chaos and freefall
Albeit Sirius, Vega and Achernar; bright stars in the night sky spare not their sparkle, shimmer, and shine
Abiding, dutiful, doleful witnesses, of mankind’s dark-dangerous-depraved-demented


© 2022 by Irene Fowler

About wordcloud9

Nona Blyth Cloud has lived and worked in the Los Angeles area for over 50 years, spending much of that time commuting on the 405 Freeway. After Hollywood failed to appreciate her genius for acting and directing, she began a second career managing non-profits, from which she has retired. Nona has now resumed writing whatever comes into her head, instead of reports and pleas for funding. She lives in a small house overrun by books with her wonderful husband.
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