Organic Gardening

My submission to Tony’s prompt for dVerse Poetics. He asks us to address the evolution of our own poetic lives. Think about it, write about it and meet us at the Poetry Pub! And a special THANK YOU to Brian and Claudia for keeping the doors of this wonderful poetry community wide open. The change of schedule is perfect!

Organic Gardening
better known as the circle of life.

Photo: V. Slotto

I watched a rose evolve—
bare root to bush to fullest bloom.
I watched it wilt before surrendering
its petal to the loam.

I watched a tree evolve—
a seed to sapling to full height.
I watched it offer fruit before
surrendering to the wind.

I watched a boy evolve—
a babe to child to full-grown man.
I watched him slowly ebb before
surrendering to the earth.

Photo: Ebon Heath

I’ve tasted much of death,
thus trust in the unknown.
It’s in this mystery
my poetry is born.

Rebirth

Photo: David Slotto

Rebirth

The Scene
Wet grass beneath my body,
piles of leaves gathered nearby,
scents of mold and dried lavender,
apples hanging heavy the tree,
spirits peering through rusty leaves
divining secrets from my past
and present, cradled deep within.

The Character
My stories are mine—
clues hidden beneath the layers
of a serene façade,
exiled from those
who would know my truth.

The Plot
I claw at the bark of the ash tree,
pain racking my used-up body,
then swallow the last three pills.
No rash decision, this.

The End
I chose early autumn last November—
autumn as the season
of dying, of beauty, of letting go,
like seeds entombed in dank soil
waiting to be born again.

This is fictional. I personally do not believe in euthanasia, though I cannot judge other. One point I want to make is that hospice care, focused on symptom management, is an option for pain management. If anyone has questions about hospice, I will be happy to answer them if I can. Just leave them in comments or send me an e-mail.

I wrote this using the words offered by Brenda a The Sunday Whirl and am linking it to dVerse Open Link Night which opens Tuesday, 3:00 PM, EDT. Please join us at either or both of these poetry venues.

By the way, I accidentally posted my draft for this week’s Meeting the Bar. It will be re-posted on Thursday. Sorry about that, but if you received it in e-mail, consider it a heads-up.

Of Dying

Photo Credit: dcpages.com

I AM
the wind you touch that rages through the pass,
molesting water’s edge and raping valleys.

I AM
the minor notes that dance upon the stage.
You see the grief they howl in tones of bitter gray.

I AM
the whisper of a cloud that weaves its song of hope.
She speaks to you of shadows and of light.

I AM
the taste of petals swirling in the morn
that settle in their final rest beneath the cherry tree.

I AM
the scent of endings—sweet fragrance letting go of earth
and all it knows—wafting toward new beginnings.

This is my submission to dVerse Meeting the Bar in response to the prompt I offered: to write a poem using synesthesia–that is, mixing up or mingling sensory experience. I hope you will stop by with a poem of your own. The pub will open for Meeting the Bar Thursday, 3 PM EDT. There you will find a more complete explanation of this poetic technique. It’s fun to play with!

Sis’ Daily Haiku Challenge–Purity

Submitted to SiS’ Daily Haiku Challenge, February 2, 2011–http://pendownmythought.blogspot.com/2011/01/haiku-challenge-28-days-28-haikus-game.html 

Purity

Pristine innocence.

Soul reborn, image of God,

Fear not. Walk in Grace.