10-15-2013, 03:27 AM
You know when a poetry prompt is working when you are skiving off work to sneak a few lines off during teabreaks.
Had a go at a couple of the prompts today.
Your prompts: Give the poem a new title and see where it goes…
Exodus from Alma-Ata
In the forests of the Tian Shan mountains
the wild fruit trees grow.
Clustered branches of families.
Intermingling, sowing seeds
that break out
In diverse directions;
fragrant notes of a blue print mother.
They transverse the ridges,
to fill the valleys of the high reaches.
Peaches, pears and plums
exist in tight knitted communities.
Spliced arbours of sweet delight.
The first fruits are highly prized ,
cherry picked and carried off.
De-fleshed on flood plains and river banks,
the core is cast aside. Shooting
seedlings reach out with green leaves.
Others lie where they have fallen,
rejected and forgotten
in worm infested papaya sheets.
Bedded down in a premature
state of declining wealth.
The sound of falling apples
is echoed in the thunder clouds
that gather over the pommice pits.
The last line to become the first line….
From here to eternity. The final event
is set in an eternal loop.
Self seeded along an ancient path
that reaches from north to south
and East to west, the apple tree
is centre stage to every step.
Re-traced through fair trade routes,
Paper chased by three hares
that migrated on a fruit wood timber trail,
and left embossed impressions
of a three eared tale
that lend themselves to a listening ear.
“Here” is Alma-Ata,
With fruitful family branches
that reach up to the rarefied place
where the cloud base lifts
revealing, thin skirts of mist
that shroud the mother tree.
Eternity is firmly planted
in each and every apple seed--
once the flesh has been pierced,
peeled, sliced and cored.
Soon the mountains of Tian-Shan will shake
to the sound of green shoots
bursting though Eden’s gates.
Had a go at a couple of the prompts today.
Your prompts: Give the poem a new title and see where it goes…
Exodus from Alma-Ata
In the forests of the Tian Shan mountains
the wild fruit trees grow.
Clustered branches of families.
Intermingling, sowing seeds
that break out
In diverse directions;
fragrant notes of a blue print mother.
They transverse the ridges,
to fill the valleys of the high reaches.
Peaches, pears and plums
exist in tight knitted communities.
Spliced arbours of sweet delight.
The first fruits are highly prized ,
cherry picked and carried off.
De-fleshed on flood plains and river banks,
the core is cast aside. Shooting
seedlings reach out with green leaves.
Others lie where they have fallen,
rejected and forgotten
in worm infested papaya sheets.
Bedded down in a premature
state of declining wealth.
The sound of falling apples
is echoed in the thunder clouds
that gather over the pommice pits.
The last line to become the first line….
From here to eternity. The final event
is set in an eternal loop.
Self seeded along an ancient path
that reaches from north to south
and East to west, the apple tree
is centre stage to every step.
Re-traced through fair trade routes,
Paper chased by three hares
that migrated on a fruit wood timber trail,
and left embossed impressions
of a three eared tale
that lend themselves to a listening ear.
“Here” is Alma-Ata,
With fruitful family branches
that reach up to the rarefied place
where the cloud base lifts
revealing, thin skirts of mist
that shroud the mother tree.
Eternity is firmly planted
in each and every apple seed--
once the flesh has been pierced,
peeled, sliced and cored.
Soon the mountains of Tian-Shan will shake
to the sound of green shoots
bursting though Eden’s gates.