top of page

Betrayal of the Grim Reaper

By Reba Kalita


Flower terminology-

In the Victorian era, White hemlocks were a symbolism of death and misfortune.Although it is a very pretty plant, it’s deathly poisonous. Similarly, yellow roses symbolize jealousy.

Marigolds symbolise the ending of a life cycle and morning glories symbolise one-sided love.

Spider lilies symbolize death.

The wild parsnips are a kind of invasive plant that cause severe skin burns.

Red poppies and belladonnas  are flowers usually used as hallucinogens and drugs.

The “inflorescence of  Danbune’s” here is a reference taken from the story of the forget-me-not flowers.


Betrayal of the Grim Reaper


Bony white phalanges

holding a cracked snath,

His frame white and old,

His eyes, devoid and cold,

His presence’s omnipresent.

For, even in an abundance of daffodils,

he mimics the Danbune’s  inflorescence.


A trail of spider lilies,

always stalking my back–

The delicate yet comforting odour,

making me feel special,

as the sole bestowed-

of  his magnificent sight.

My hands reach out inadvertently,

The minute skeleton fissures;

questioning my own morality-

making death seem more comforting,more moral.

And as if it knew, it disappeared,

abandoning me in my own misery.



The figure,once again, 

leans on my bedroom wall,

His prideful scythe laced with vermillions-

burying me in a grave of yellow roses.

The depraved hollow sockets gawk me,

as if reading my thoughts-

The sinful thoughts I so try to abandon in the mist

of my scalding showers.



Once again, 

I watch him waltz,

The melodious marigolds surrounding the main characters-

The reaper and the beautiful soul,

as I weep in my own field of hemlocks and parsnips.

Is my soul not appealing?

Is it that defective?


Oh, how infuriating it is!Why gift me your presence,

if the scythe’s never laced with my vermillion?

Why tread after me,

If nothing follows but morning glories?

Why trap me in your sickening belladonnas-

if you won't dance with me?


By Reba Kalita


Recent Posts

See All
The Anomalous Figure

By Sia Mishra Nobody knew what it was not a human, but of course. It never blinked, it never moved, just stood in the corner where it stood. It arrived when everyone was deep asleep, except me the nig

 
 
 
Moonlight

By Sia Mishra The windows were open, cool winds blowin; the curtains moved aside, a light peeked in. Sitting in my bed, I was  lost in my dream; the light then called me and  teleported me to another

 
 
 
Country Churchyard

By Prosari Chanda Made of huddling trees that moaned the birds her chuckled to the graves, mocking both silence and prayer. Cracked stones,  a two-year old Ophelia here  a time-worn Sidney there they

 
 
 

Comments

Rated 0 out of 5 stars.
No ratings yet

Add a rating
bottom of page