Sad Birds and Gypsy Flowers

On playing around with wording and prose: This poem is nothing serious, I created a little story about a nightingale and a flower. I used inspirations like Anne Rice, and Oscar Wilde to create this. The ending seems abrupt, but otherwise, if it wasn’t it would be too long.

The Philomel to the Iris

Heartfelt and disdainful, the
Philomel wept to the Iris.
Such an Iris, that like a Gypsy
spoke:
“Fortnight and your affable nature
has been the cause of your distress.
No reason cept’ paramour as a treason,
speak to me young Mistress.”
Without doting the infinity
between its wings,
the tiny creature
palpably proclaimed:
“festooned like a butterfly, I
cannot part,
yet to succumb to Death, I
cannot cease.”
The philomel, greatly perturbing the Iris,
continued:
“Melancholy Madness bewitches me.
Hard and fragile, I,
the tint of crystal rain,
wanting to shatter.
I pray you! Appease me!”
Musing at her ethereal beauty,
the Iris succinctly
said:
“‘Quid pro quo'” my dear.
Live lavishly with your perpetual ostentation,
while I shall be wilted.”
Stopping, as the iris had slumped,
and the philomel, enraged,
spoke:
“How dare She!
Oh, the malevolent mockery!
How I wish to have done something!”

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