This Poem was Submitted By: Ellen K Lewis On Date: 2012-03-15 01:29:20 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!
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sprouts a thoughtful moment
a reflection of a face
and a remembered
lost opportunity
to touch.
In the heart of my soul
my garden is tenderly watered
coaxing old roots
and new sprouts
to live and grow
death is like that
laying quietly for so long
earth regurgitates its dust
and another turns it over
what is left behind
has just begun to be
and so we plant seed
we apply sweat and tears
and whisper tiny hopefuls
that we have all the things
we need to make life new again.
When I am in my garden now
I shall practise laughing
if the locusts come to eat it all
then I shall eat the locust.
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Copyright © March 2012 Ellen K Lewis
This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2012-03-30 15:43:23
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Ellen,
What's good about your writing especially for me, is how you share your emotion.
This is the objective of poetry we tend to lose sight of. "Nothing matters except she 's gone [friend, mother] concept." You write to tell of what matters to you.
Good job my dear I love gardens and I'd eat whatever to live.
Dellena
This Poem was Critiqued By: cheyenne smyth On Date: 2012-03-20 15:57:52
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Hi Ellen,
You have penned a poem that is close to my heart because I love to garden. But then I think the garden and planted seeds are a metaphor for life and death. Every day we live puts us just that much closer to our demise. One could be depressed about that aspect instead of focusing on the day we have been given each morn when we awake. Your last verse is a surprise and powerful. Well done.
Best wishes,
cheyenne
This Poem was Critiqued By: James C. Horak On Date: 2012-03-16 17:14:57
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.22222
A delightful sort-of-aboriginal wisdom poem. The last lines in touch with both the comic side and erstwhile pragmatism we associate with native Americans. Indeed were we versatile and not so self-centered in the
rat race of the modern world Nature's abundance is adequate. And it's renewel (and your poetic homage to it) easily observable. JCH
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