Harvest of Solitude

Stray seeds skitter under doorframes,

plant themselves between synaptic

 

cracks. Parched gravel bleeds yellow-green

people-sized flowering doubt, balloons of

 

toxic breath. Watering cans spill blue-black

memory, bright oxygen for fire. Red-orange

 

blooms nursed in wasting, ivory arms, weak

from punching thin air. Ripe fruits buried

 

behind a back fence, covered in lilac - spray

glistening warnings in sunlight. Missing pieces:

 

hours, days, people - all filed under

dodged bullets. 

Reviews

[Ethan]

Nice job. Your last line stands out as one of the strongest. I love your choices of alliteration as well. Thanks, nicely done :)

[apennylate]

This was an intense ride... Absolutely riveting... I have found a new person to ste... Borrow points of style from... Brilliant... Seriously... You practically experience this poem with all 5 senses... Masterfully penned... Seriously...

[JT Godin]

Nice use of colour in here.... I also like the inclusion of "plant-like" verbs; flowering -- but it's not the plants that are flowering. Also the skittering of stray seeds in the beginning is a nice touch...

[Creepy Swine Guy]

I note the reference to earth (between the cracks), water (in the can) and fire.

I like that people are filed under "Dodged Bullets"

I'll be mentally parsing this vivid word bouquet all day now. :^)

[Kristina Moulaison]

Yes indeed :) Thank you! "vivid word bouquet" nice.

[Island Hippy]

Aloha Kristina, I enjoyed this very much you have a masterful pen, I love the hook of the title and how the theme spills with poetic ease. Inner peace can keep the bullets at bay. Your pen harvests a great many things. Izzy

[Kristina Moulaison]

Thanks so much, Izzy! I appreciate your kind words.

[Island Hippy]

You're welcome