»
Archives
»
Open Poetry #13
»
Tomatoe's
| Open Poetry #13 |
|
Tomatoe's |
|
|
thecraig Member
since 2001-03-11
Posts 223 |
Thought I had planted spinach tomato plants sprung to, they were first within the compost, that my poor bowels passed through; those pips they rip they tear sugar like, I feel tummy healing, on bed, on bike. Hard finding comfort , sleeping at night; Special juices stay there healing the wounds, keeping the body away from deaths, tombs; Winter comes upon the land, tomatoes may not ripen, discard them, no! lovely, look. replant & watch them heighten; An easy task, safe with soil, Only a wasp hive, the fun, stung , to spoil; Alas! The blood was not to boil, general corpuscles, gathered to toil; Three, four, five, arm stings, moved to a distance with baby seedlings, The muscles moved, the fingers worked, no sudden spasms, uncontrolled jerks only the swelling & sting entries hurt; First night I lay on bed aware, swelling rose on arm with fear, now, worry was, swollen shoulder & heart, may be a path to make life part; Sugar was stopped, raw fruit to, swelling went down, way down with my blues; |
||
| © Copyright 2001 Craig Poole - All Rights Reserved | |||
|
ethome Member Patricius
since 2000-05-14
Posts 11858New Brunswick Canada |
Sounds like a real tough day in the garden! I hope you got the tomatoe plants planted after all that pain.. I had to smile but I enjoyed the read very much! The role of poetry is to utter the un-utterable; to open up |
||
|
helen smith Member
since 2001-03-12
Posts 240 |
I never liked tomatoes craig and they never liked me .....and all the time they were doing that inside me !! how are the wasp stings ?? so that is where you have been the last week or so .I have missed you |
||
|
|
⇧ top of page ⇧ |
|
| All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format. | ||
