Poetry by Cynthia Pitman
Dip your tongue slowly
into the morning dew
that puddles on the crimson bloom
of the poison oleander.
Taste its purity.
Savor the sense of rapture
captured in this tiny pearl-drop
of joy. This elixir holds no harm.
But the bloom waits deadly.
It bids you taste it, beckoning you
with its blood-red allure.
The dew drop will intoxicate
your soul with delight.
But taste the bitter oleander bloom
and you will taste the mortal world,
devoid of joy,
devoid of rapture,
devoid of delight.
About the Poet
Cynthia Pitman is a retired high school English teacher. She has had poetry published in Vita Brevis, Leaves of Ink, Amethyst Review, Postcard Poems and Prose, Right Hand Pointing, Ekphrastic Review, Literary Yard, Adelaide Literary Magazine, Three Line Poetry, Third Wednesday, and Mused. Her first poetry book, The White Room, is forthcoming.