Rose

After a storm

Round fixed blue eyes black pupils
Swollen, furry face visable from her
Spot crouched in the fallen
Orange leaves, waiting
Clear air outside, wide
Sun dripping heat and life down
Peeling walls. Stuck
Heavy earth sucking
Thick brown boots, unexpected
Worm wriggling home across
Cracked cement.
Grass tickles ankles, wind
Wraps up washing
Old branches lean out between
Blue sky and sparkling green
Ground. Black bird sits
Atop a soft white
Wooden fence, waiting

For me to extract my pale legs
from the sodden dirt, go back inside
Let him swoop and swallow that
Blistering purple ringed
Worm that is desperately heading
For home, scraping it's
Guts out on harsh
Grey concrete, the rain
Long past still seeping into the earth.
(The twitch of a tail
Blink of a beady eye)
It'll drown down there in the wet
Dark,
if it makes it.

Insignificant

Reviews

[SilentVerses]

A beautiful detachment that sings through the imagery of natures depths, there is more and there is less, awe of a numbed self, watching the world, so insignificant how those small piece of prey, shall die no matter whom by. Wonderfully vivid such a juxtaposition is placed forth, through black and white a melancholy flows but poured into the blinding power of your description.

[...]

vivid and haunting
there better be a day
when the rose is cared for,
valued, revered

[L]

For me to extract my pale legs
from the sodden dirt, go back inside
Let him swoop and swallow that
Blistering purple ringed

love these lines, grit, dirt, strong and nasty-nice

[John Stussy]

You're a fine writer yourself, I like the imagery you used. The bleak setting of the post-storm outdoors is tangible, took me right back to the times I've spent in Washington. It's a grand time for some observation and sobering introspection. Great job on this poem, you succeeded in making me remember and think myself.

[kalra]

bleak for the poor worm. very nice poem. I especially enjoy the vivid imagery of the first stanza.