The thorns could be seen faintly through the lush of the foliage
Their venomous barbs shone with contempt of human flesh
Into the poison he strode
Seeing only perfection
With shear in hand he gently pruned away
Engrossed with natures beauty as he discarded each toxic spear
The greenery dissipated
While thorns increased in number
So ferverous the mans work that he failed to remove his eyes from the dwindling plant
Until only the faintest trace of what was so inviting remained
He remembered what once was and remains, in hope.
The foliage can be seen faintly through the mass of penetrating thorns
Itís beauty almost hidden and the memory all but faded
It is too late
The barbs close around his throat and escape is but a dream.
Well I will say irstly that I enjoyed this,and I can see the validity in your point.
But there is a small problem for me,I cant fault your excellent imagery,or your un-flinching observations ,indeed I much enjoyed the restraint you used in putting it forward,but I wish you had written this from your own perspective,when you say reffer to yourself in the third person I think it looks like you took the easier option.
I think thats the only thing that stops this being the best poem it could be.
But Im going to fave it because its still excellent.
A very interesting write. Reminiscent of the Black Widow spider, so named because she entices the ever reluctant male to mate, then as he performs his masculine duty, she eats him, -- he no hope of escape. Ted.