there was once a garden inside me,
it grew from between flesh and bone.
wraping me in green lush leaves, fingers of earth.
tiny locking thorns kept me from moving, too many
flowers blooming.
the sky turned gray and far into the distance.
there was once a garden inside me,
it was beautiful and full of life.
there was madness, sorrow and passion
between my viens. blotting out the light,
changing love to wild aggresion.
there was once life, birth and creation.
times have passed, years gone by, and history filled.
there is only the end left to see,
to witness, to write about.
i adore that concept - of there once being a garden inside... that is a fantastic image. and the concept flows so well within the words. :)
'there was once a garden inside me,
it was beautiful and full of life.
there was madness, sorrow and passion
between my viens. blotting out the light, "
my favorite part.
great job. the ending was a little... abrupt? and it didn't possess the same tone as the rest of the poem. but overall, well done :)
i love the metaphor of the garden as your body, and the things you have done with that metaphor. It can be a cliched metaphor, but you've done original things with it and that shows your talent. I'm saddened by the end result though. You may feel that your garden has gone to seed, but do you not see the fruits you've brought forth. "there is only the end left to see, to witness, to write about. " Nay I say!
Aging, menopause, maturing should not be a sad progression, it should be a phase that comes with its own benefits! Celebrate your life! Write about it, Beatrice, but don't write it off!