03-04-2015, 06:11 AM
(03-01-2015, 08:31 PM)tectak Wrote: This year I'll grow no greenhouse envy; no green at all, I love the hat tip to 'penis envy'Do you really grow your potatoes in a glass house? I really enjoyed your poem - an anthem to approaching death but still it's so full of life. An adventure of sounds and textures of sound (if that makes sense). Thanks for posting this.
no ruby fruits, no piercing darts of piping chillies, no eggplants
pendulate and purple breasted. Not even one great, golden star
will burst, anticipating pollen; no zucchini without my hand. Good use of colours with the list of plants
Winter holds no happy promise, its quaint demise a silent death.
There will be no wake to follow, no joy-filled pots or feast to come.
Instead, the lichened lights are shaded. Unfettered feet Uneasy about tense change here
of creeping things greyed out the glass, still cracked by autumn gales.
Old frost-clear tracks, tell-tales of slugs no longer threatened,
blaze in bands of sun-crisped slime. The summer star will shine benign great sounds here
on bare and barren cedar staging, littered with sharp snail-shell shards; trips my tongue to say this aloud
all victims of the killing days when sulphur fumes combined to acid 'to make acid' or 'form acid' may work better
and black-tar fluid, watered white, obscured the fragrant panes.
If only there was one more season, one more potter, one more yield;
then I would take my chitted set and cut it into sighted slivers,
dip in dust of saffron yellow, dibble but a hand-depth down,
into the mulch of ages. Then gently lower, cover over,
scoop up ramparts all around; each mound a living grave. the best description of planting potatoes I've ever read
Volcanic life lies waiting, waiting...but not for me. I will be gone.
The shoots might stir me in my sleep, they in their bed, me in mine;
but I will plant my Salad Blues...before the winter leaves. I'm reading a double meaning in 'leaves' here
Tectak
2015