Our pear tree

A poem about me and the pear tree.

Our Pear Tree

 

By

 

Steppenwolf

 

 

After having observed this tree

I am sure that it must be

Female. A woman of great age.

She isn’t a lady of graces

She isn’t run over in the races

Of time.

Yes, she is wooed by the coming

Of spring

Cooperates by allowing her leaves

To be green

Just enough to keep us away…

 

From knowing who she really is.

 

Because I’ve studied her for

These 12 years

Because when she decides to

Favor me with tear-shaped fruit

Because this fruit is both hard and soft

Bitter and sweet

My knowledge is complete.

 

She’s the queen of witches

Right out of Macbeth but

Much more than that

She sleeps with the devil

She keeps all his secrets

Her hair is wild with shades of grey

The wind is her lover

But only in her time, only when she’s

Ready..

 

When she allows the wind to caress her

To tangle up her hair and her limbs

She will drop her fruit like rain but

Only for me, the deer won’t eat it…

 

The fruit, I come out to hold in my hand

It’s warm from the sun and the earth

And each one

Is shaped just like a woman’s a*s

With the cleft running up the middle

And I rub the rounded form with my

Thumb

It sends a message to God-knows-where

Because as I rub I feel it there.

The pear tree is female.

 

 

Reviews

[Mary]

So I'm reading this poem, beautifully written, filled with scattered mystical and sensuous metaphors, and then I read the last few lines, and I break out into a wide smile, no, hearty laughter. What a wonderful metaphor! Wonderful write, Steppenwolf. Bravo!

[jacob erin-cilberto]

and the pear tree is you i believe...

terrific metaphor here...love the personification..and how the tree reacts to different situations...

but always female...strong and resistant and persistant.

jacob