Words, words, words
I'm always in search of
Sentences, fragments
On lower branches,
Looking for blurbs
That dangle as fruit,
But all the low-hanging
Fruit's been taken
from the orchards,
Eaten by the Beatniks ~
Damn you, Ginsberg! ~
Poems which've been
picked seasons ago,
There are no more apples or
oranges to show for;
They're in storage
On the books
In their library nooks;
Only high are the words
Left to get, with no ladder
To climb, no energy to spend,
This tree of knowledge
Feels as forbidden to me
As Adam and Eve's
I must shake her down ~
It's criminal, I know ~
Just to get the fix I need,
But she drops only when ripe.
She won't rush a bad poem,
Or else it begins to look
like a sinful deed
Or absolutely tripe!
Or it harvests tasteless fruit,
at the very least.
everything has its day and no theme is unique, what is unique is what we say. and how we say.
truth be told I thought poetry was dead until i happened to accidentally fall into it a few years ago.
and now I see a lot of really young people writing and its great. i think like anything it evolves. maybe those old poets were great but i tried reading some and could not relate. love is timeless of course but the rest of it, i could not relate to. just my thoughts :)
Brilliant & imaginative comparison between trees & the search for words. Your extended metaphor is full of ideas that pop. I can imagine how this looks & feels, as if really climbing for those higher branches. Since I'm a critic of cliché, it's a necessary scramble to find some new leaves that nobody has yet turned. You've made this into a playful romp with a serious point that should be taken by those who have only so far tasted the low-hanging fruit! *smile* Fondly, Margie
everything has its day and no theme is unique, what is unique is what we say. and how we say.
truth be told I thought poetry was dead until i happened to accidentally fall into it a few years ago.
and now I see a lot of really young people writing and its great. i think like anything it evolves. maybe those old poets were great but i tried reading some and could not relate. love is timeless of course but the rest of it, i could not relate to. just my thoughts :)
Yes, I think you say it well, and it needs saying. Those Beatniks did think they had found Utopia, and a lot of good literature was 'gobbled up' and, as you say, 'they are in storage, On the books, In their library nooks.' But, hopefully that good old apple tree will produce another lot of fruit on the low-hanging branches. You know I also blame the next lot of Hippies, and I think the 'Love' year (1967?) completely finished off creativity (literature and art). But hope springs eternal. Thank you for writing this poem.
Posted 6 Years Ago
6 Years Ago
Thank you for feeling me, Astri. Yes, it’s harder to find the goods, but it can be done. The ink i.. read moreThank you for feeling me, Astri. Yes, it’s harder to find the goods, but it can be done. The ink in the well hasn’t run dry of hackneyed ideas (fantasy or lies).
Well, I think we are all doing pretty well, here on WC, feeding ideas for future writers to take up... read moreWell, I think we are all doing pretty well, here on WC, feeding ideas for future writers to take up. There are some wonderful caring and concerned writers here.Who knows what that might lead to? . A new paradigm?
this piece sort of had me feeling perplexed because it was incredibly well written, yet i had a difficult time genuinely understanding what it was about. regardless, nicely done.
Posted 6 Years Ago
1 of 1 people found this review constructive.
6 Years Ago
I’m kind of blaming the Beatniks for taking all the good poems. Good stuff takes time to achieve a.. read moreI’m kind of blaming the Beatniks for taking all the good poems. Good stuff takes time to achieve and you have to climb higher. All the low hanging fruit’s mostly gone.
I guess that was where I wanted to go. I had to re-read. Lol. I forget my stuff sometimes.
I appreciate your comments. Let me read a fellow bard.