Beware of the flowers Poetry Jam

This week's jam stirrer is the pentagenarian Kat from Kanada and she's set us a delicious confiture to spread on our croissants. "Use your imagination and write about flowers that are used for ill-will, or a funeral, or that conjure up sad memories, or are ragged and dirty and war-torn.
I don’t want anything pretty … or flowery"
Okay, as the legendary John Otway once wrote, beware of the flowers cos I'm sure they're gonna get you, yeah...

Deadly nightshade – plans for the money

Pale deadly nightshade, aroma so sweet –
ironic she said they looked good enough to eat,
but I’ve plans for the money
and spending’s the way I will grieve.

Bland deadly nightshade, ground to a powder,
the mystery’s how it got into her chowder,
but I’ve plans for the money
and spending’s the way I will grieve.

Swift deadly nightshade, atropa belladonna –
several convulsions and she was a goner
but I’ve plans for the money
and spending’s the way I will grieve.

Sad deadly nightshade, unearthed and cremated.
Forensics found nothing to get them fixated
but I’ve plans for the money
and spending’s the way I will grieve.

Bright deadly nightshade, strewn on her coffin,
the cheapest old box I could see my wife off in
but I’ve plans for the money
and spending’s the way I will grieve.

Flat deadly nightshade, pressed into my Bible –
I’ve sued several national papers for libel
and I’ve plans for the money
and spending’s the way I will grieve.

Damned deadly nightshade, the perfume still lingers,
no matter how thoroughly I scrub my fingers
but I’ve plans for the money
and spending’s the way I will grieve.

Cruel deadly nightshade, growing on her grave –
is that any way for a corpse to behave?
But I’ve plans for the money
and spending’s the way I will grieve.