Seeds of Old

We protrude from the earth like

Pillars of stone, like swaying trees,

Like horizontal burial mounds.

 

Names of the dead on gravestones

No one knows, no one stops to check.

We’re nameless already with tags

Around our neck.

 

Planting flowers in the backyard,

You might come upon something solid,

Something strange a spade hits with a

Thudding sound.

 

Petrified time unearthed sends

A chill down your spine.

You eye it from a distance,

Poke it, then bend down to touch it.

 

Worlds shake hands across time, and

Stare into a mirror: the weapons rusting

In clay are buried in me too.

Treasures hoarded and hidden,

Some bright, some black as night,

I recognize one or two.

 

A different time, a different mask,

We are who we were, no need to ask.

Seeds of old sprout the same old fruit

That Eve in the Garden tasted.

We live the same lives that

The world a thousand times

Wasted.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

and in future will waste because we just don't learn our lessons...
and we will still grab that apple and eat it...time capsules dug up, opened, and the same mistakes found within.
This poem is so full of vivid truth.
j.

[John the Baptist]

The planting of flowers and finding weapons may represent an actual occurrence, but true or not, it is a perceptive metaphor for humanity. "We are who we were," followed by the Garden of Eden reference. Though we have come a long way, we still have those negative seeds within us. Just ask Ukraine.

[Chris Shaw]

This poem directed me to archaeology and finds from digging deep into the past. I find it so fascinating to look at treasures discovered and to ponder on the lives of those that used or wore those items. We all pass through and maybe in hundreds of years, our own stuff will be discovered and earth dwellers of the future will ponder on us. (that’s assuming our species will still inhabit this planet then. Debatable how things are going) I have been fascinated by tv programmes I have watched recently on the city of Pompeii. Incredible how advanced they were before the city was buried under volcanic ash. Enjoyed the read Laz and where I travelled. All the best.

Chris

[Lorry]

I have always wished in my younger me years to have that thrill of unearthing buried treasure, even if it were only what little me would have thought of as treasure, which would be little more than toy cars and football stickers of my youth. But as an adult finding those treasures would mean a whole lot less than younger me would have thought, as well as wishing it was actual treasure, buried by a forgetful pirate or stolen loot from a jewellery heist.
But at least you avoided unearthing younger you'd childhood pet 😊
I have always been drawn to old graveyards and the names and years of their life. I ponder the ones I come across and wonder who they were and hope the birth and death dates had a suitably long pause in between them.
I really like the "Worlds shake hands across time", like speaking to the past and it answering you.
The last verse is fantastic, leaving me wondering about what I would say from the other side of that shovel.