- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Paradise Changed
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Click hereMother my footprint
next to yours in the garden
is peas and carrots,
Jersey tomatos, green beans
from the seed sale are spindly,
but climb well enough
to warrant my muddy knees
and fingers digging down
checking carrots still
too short. I baby them back
to their own warm mama loam.
At six years all seriousness
is aside. Minutes race,
called by the Sun to tumble
through a flap of sheets
and fall to onion weeds,
or nets of Queen Anne's Lace,
then blur, drying dusky
in and out the lilac brush
dripping along the fence.
Families.
Genus and Species. Growth
in numbers and clumps.
Footsteps danced.
Changing.
Seasons of fruit dropped
from the cherry tree.
Some were forgotten,
some blossoms crushed,
and everywhere leaves blown,
pods burst in another yard,
landing apart and together
in an evolution of roots,
necessary and joyous
and terrifying.
- COMMENTS
Maria2394over 19 years agoAngeline, this is so peaceful and hopeful and sweet. I love that you share your memories, this one especially
Tathagataover 19 years ago4 times over the course of a few days.
it's tenderness manifest in this line:
~I baby them back
to their own warm mama loam.~
that line hits me every time
and I see the muddy kneed girl checking..and then covering them back up.
instinctively.
it makes my heart smile
You somehow capture the child and the grown woman and the freedom of youth and sadness of age.
It is an amazing piece.
Please submit it somewhere.
Thank you Ange
Anonymousover 19 years agoWow, Ange, you can take an over-used metaphor and make it fresh. I especially enjoyed the first few stanzas of this piece. The imagery is a Rockwell painting. Beautiful.
I was going to make a couple line break suggestions, but just realized why you made them where you did ;)
Anonymousover 19 years ago...and erotic. Filled with lush images and lovely glimpses into Ange's amazing mind. I particularly like the lines....
"...........Minutes race,
called by the Sun to tumble
through a flap of sheets
and fall to onion weeds,
or nets of Queen Anne's Lace,
then blur, drying dusky
in and out the lilac brush
dripping along the fence."
PatCarringtonover 19 years agoange, this is so tender without one drop of cheap and easy sentiment / it is so well-phrased, and so poignant / you probably think this is not fully baked yet / it looks done to me / if it isn't, it's close enough to put on an incredible diguise of completeness /
