08-23-2024, 11:14 PM
OK Steve- I'll give it a shot
This summer due to my lack comma after summer
of growing tomatoes, or beans,
or even the ever abundant
zucchini, I tend my garden
of two, 4x8’ raised beds, towards
wild flowers. A sprinkling, I feel, The whole first, intro stanza does not feel like a poem to me. I'd expand on wild flowers
of a mixture sown with such anticipation
of sprouting might lend itself
to an easier harvest. Each morning I look Unfortunately forgettable
for tender shoots trying to distinguish tender shoots could be expanded on
the young dicotyledons of the wanted
from the others--
but these feral grounds, they confuse. You could work this in, too
How to cull
when each bright sprout might be nothing This, as well
but promise?
When they grow comingled; anonymous
interlopers free to fester Why not just say weeds?
among the greater good;
free to steal
sunlight, nutrient soil,
a watering rain? With a keen eye,
each developing pattern of leaf,
stalk and form is analyzed to determine
a future worth, but each grows
green as the next, tall as the next Rework these last two stanzas, and build into it without six stanzas
all budding tight little fists
of defiance. I find myself lost
in the anticipation, in the exploration,
in the ongoing blooming
kaleidoscope of simple truths. This is an interesting phrase
Sorry I can't offer more, Steve, but I need more imagery and less 'method', if that makes sense. The poem is worth the effort, but needs a lot of pruning.
Mark
This summer due to my lack comma after summer
of growing tomatoes, or beans,
or even the ever abundant
zucchini, I tend my garden
of two, 4x8’ raised beds, towards
wild flowers. A sprinkling, I feel, The whole first, intro stanza does not feel like a poem to me. I'd expand on wild flowers
of a mixture sown with such anticipation
of sprouting might lend itself
to an easier harvest. Each morning I look Unfortunately forgettable
for tender shoots trying to distinguish tender shoots could be expanded on
the young dicotyledons of the wanted
from the others--
but these feral grounds, they confuse. You could work this in, too
How to cull
when each bright sprout might be nothing This, as well
but promise?
When they grow comingled; anonymous
interlopers free to fester Why not just say weeds?
among the greater good;
free to steal
sunlight, nutrient soil,
a watering rain? With a keen eye,
each developing pattern of leaf,
stalk and form is analyzed to determine
a future worth, but each grows
green as the next, tall as the next Rework these last two stanzas, and build into it without six stanzas
all budding tight little fists
of defiance. I find myself lost
in the anticipation, in the exploration,
in the ongoing blooming
kaleidoscope of simple truths. This is an interesting phrase
Sorry I can't offer more, Steve, but I need more imagery and less 'method', if that makes sense. The poem is worth the effort, but needs a lot of pruning.
Mark