Having read several of my poems here, everyone probably has their own idea of which one was worse, and each one could probably be argued on its own [lack of] merit. Not too many weeks ago I woke sometime after midnight with the ultimate inspiration. I grabbed the PDA from my nightstand. wrote furiously, and promptly went back to sleep. Here's the result of that inspired 180 seconds.
*** Please do not attempt this poem if you are pregnant, have a heart disease, or are subject to bouts of depression ***
On Opposite Banks
We are olives in the trees
clinging to branches
protected by leaves
as our ancestors were
the presses of our neighbors
would squeeze the oil from us
to fuel their own lamps
the teeth of brethren
would dessicate our meat
for their pleasure and need
The feet of righteous and unholy alike
trample us, grinding our seed
into the nurtureless sand
never pausing
to marvel at the trees themselves
thirsty roots
flowering buds
or the way their branches
reach to the sky.
p.s. I showed this to The Editor, who has been lovingly supportive for over 25 years, and she cried so hard she laughed.....
[This message has been edited by Robert Swagman (edited May 15, 2002).]
|
Threaded Mode
