I've been searching for the text of this poem by Peter Meinke for the past few years. I read it in college and have always loved it. So here it is...
SONNET ON THE DEATH OF THE MAN WHO INVENTED PLASTIC ROSES
by: Peter Meinke
The man who invented the plastic rose is dead.
Behold his mark: his undying flawless blossoms never close but guard his grave unbending through the dark.
He understood neither beauty nor flowers, which catch our hearts in nets as soft as sky and bind us with a thread of fragile hours: flowers are beautiful because they die.
Beauty without the perishable pulse is dry and sterile, an abandoned stage with false forests.
But the results support this man's invention; he knew his age:
A vision of our tearless time discloses artificial men sniffing plastic roses.
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2 comments:
it's my favorite as well...thank you for posting it.
I heard another Meinke poem, "Uncle Jim", on The Writer's Almanac this morning and I remembered how much I loved the "Sonnet" when I first read it in college. Thanks for posting it !
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