A GARDENER CONTEMPLATING DEATH

the older i get....

 

A GARDENER CONTEMPLATING DEATH

 

Under sweltering sun, the persistent planter

toils in meticulous, militant motion

sharply shaping soil.

 

He prunes, pares, plucks and plops.

Shears rip and fashion giddy growth,

produce a single blossom.

 

Cool sweat drips on parched earth

as weeds unfold naturally,

immune to the chemistry of fear.

 

Torn, truncated worms

twist their remnants

in painful protest.

 

He knows that winter

will stitch its frosty frown,

cement its pale pallor.

 

He knows time is short

for a singular bloom

that soon will fade.

 

He knows that he is the flower,

that this is his moment

in the sun.

 

 

           

 

 

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

movement gets so much harder as we age...
we are blooming flowers only for so long, and then...
allegorical in nature, this poem works so well...

and we are the those in painful protest....
our generation who once held a different type of painful protest.
j.

[Mike Keenan]

Thanks J. I appreciate your comments.

[JayG]

• Shears rip and fashion giddy growth,

You're substituting alliteration for rhyme, which is always iffy. But more than that, you've fallen into the trap of bending the lines to meet the needs of the rhyme—or in this case, the alliteration. But that's a gimmick, and the reader, who is reading in hope of being moved, emotionally, will notice, and not smile.

And, you're not being careful with your imagery:

Shears cut, they don't rip. And "giddy" growth? Seriously. But you need an "a" word, so...

• Cool sweat drips on parched earth
as weeds unfold naturally,
immune to the chemistry of fear.

"Cool sweat?" On a day hot enough to bring sweat it's cool? Naaa. And weeds "unfold." Not on parched earth. Nothing grows when the ground is parched. And: What in the pluperfect hells is "the chemistry of fear," when it comes to plants? You have intent, I suppose, but our intent doesn't make it to the page. What does, is only the meaning the reader takes, based on their background, not your intent.

[Mike Keenan]

It's unfortunate that you didn't get it, but you are entitled to your opinion as flawed as it might be.

[JayG]

You miss the point: If the reader doesn't "get it" there's a reason: You didn't express it clearly enough.

It's your JOB to make the point clear. I shouldn't have to tell you that we don't sweat cold drops when we work, or that while flowers unfold, and individual leaves might unfold, but weeds, as a class, grow.

I notice that you thanked those who praised the work, but dismiss, out of hand, and blame the reader for what's not praise. But three things come into play:

First: You didn't put a "praise only," warning, but should have.

Second: You learn nothing from those who agree with you.

And finally, That wasn't my opinion. Aside from my own sales in fiction and poetry, I've taught writing at workshops, and owned a manuscript critiquing service. My focus isn't on poetry, but I do have a bit of experience, and the work I have posted here seems to be well recieved.

But apparently, you're seeking validation, not advice, so I'll bow out. You can push the little X at the bottom of my posts, and my posts will disapear, leaving only the praise.

[Mike Keenan]

You still don’t get it because it’s obvious that you tend to read everything in a literal sense, and miss the deliberate contradictions involved with a gardener trying to plant and nurture inevitable death. While your credentials might seem lofty and wonderful to you, the poem was accepted and printed in an anthology contest with reviewers who were a tad more sophisticated than you.

You of the literal bent, how would you interpret – “so fair and foul a day I have not seen”? My guess is that you would argue that that’s impossible, but Shakespeare would disagree. Of course, you know better. Get off your high horse and smell the wilting roses my friend.

[Cameron@Poet]

Good poem. Love the use of personification and metaphor within your written piece. Keep it up!!

[Mike Keenan]

Thanks. I appreciate your comments.

[JE Falcon]

So sad, however, well written. --- " 'Alas poor Yorick, I knew him Horatio',"

[Mike Keenan]

Thanks. I appreciate your comments.