The Ghost Fruit Trees, Toward the End

[crow]

The Ghost Fruit

The ghost fruit keeps its secrets. Ebon pits,
big as your fist, litter the ground, picked
clean by starburst wrens, skittering
around. Some seeds three years old. Lit
from behind, their blue germs still shimmer:
lively, tiny, doomed. Soon, none will exist.
one shrinking copse, by a waterfall, persists.
Once, ten-thousand spawning behemoths trenched

the river soil. Black-skinned eggs and black-
shelled pits alike they tucked into the brack,
then broody laid until the glowing sprouts
lead the hatchlings up and out, which browsed
the stems until they glowed, and soldiered off
the waterfall into the sea, camouflaged as stars.

Now, one last sad-eyed giant, trumpeting,
forlorn, finally tired, finally
too old, to keep the mound warm enough . . .

She tries. She tries so hard before she dies.

[bena]

Number one---really like the tone of this, even though it's more story-like. Love the enjambment. Love the descriptive words, although at times it seems there may be a few too many. But that's up to you. I feel like it is really strong the way it stands.

bena

[David Garland]

You opened this poem quite strong, I love the near rhyme.

The ghost fruit keeps its secrets. Ebon pits,
big as your fist,

And the near rhyme near the end of the first stanza, wonderful. Reads so well out loud.

lively, tiny, doomed. Soon, none will exist.
one shrinking copse, by a waterfall, persists.

This poem is alive with imagery, read/flows very well. I believe it is stronger in the front end, but not so lopsided that it tips. I just think the opening stanza is superbly done. I honestly don’t know what I would do to change anything here, I think it is a fine job.

[Thoughtjotter]

As a beginner, I find myself reading a poem several times looking to understand the story and subject involved. With this I have envisioned Groves of giant walnut trees to the last dinosaur trying to hatch the last egg. I don't know if this is a weakness or a blessing of my own.
You have painted a fantastic setting for my imagination, I would love to save this poem for future enjoyment.

As for feedback, I would ask: why is the break in the first stanza in mid sentence?... " Once ten-thousand spawning behemoths trenched the river soil."

[crow]

Well, since you're asking, the break felt like a trench to me. That's the only reason.

Also, thanks for rehearsing the imagery. That was exactly what I was shooting for!

[Truerenigma]

This poem is excellent. The only thing I can find to pick at is "broody laid". It is a fantastic poem, right down to the pathos at the end. Thanks for the chance to read it.

[Leanne]

As you can see, I've got virtually nothing to pick on here. Your enjambment and stanza breaks are perfect, with some wonderful assonance on the i sounds in the first stanza especially. This is a careful, delicate poem that builds layers of imagery to a hard-hitting, emotional final line. I really enjoyed this.

The Ghost Fruit

The ghost fruit keeps its secrets. Ebon pits,
big as your fist, litter the ground, picked
clean by starburst wrens, skittering
around. Some seeds three years old. Lit
from behind, their blue germs still shimmer:
lively, tiny, doomed. Soon, none will exist.
one shrinking copse, by a waterfall, persists. -- capital O for One
Once, ten-thousand spawning behemoths trenched

the river soil. Black-skinned eggs and black-
shelled pits alike they tucked into the brack,
then broody laid until the glowing sprouts
lead the hatchlings up and out, which browsed
the stems until they glowed, and soldiered off
the waterfall into the sea, camouflaged as stars.

Now, one last sad-eyed giant, trumpeting,
forlorn, finally tired, finally -- maybe just "tired", not "finally tired" -- or maybe reverse the order to play up the alliteration: tired, forlorn, finally
too old, to keep the mound warm enough . . .

She tries. She tries so hard before she dies.

[Willahelm]

The Ghost Fruit

The ghost fruit keeps its secrets. Ebon pits,
big as your fist, litter the ground, picked
clean by starburst wrens, skittering
around. Some seeds three years old. Lit
from behind, their blue germs still shimmer:
lively, tiny, doomed. Soon, none will exist.
one shrinking copse, by a waterfall, persists.
Once, ten-thousand spawning behemoths trenched

the river soil. Black-skinned eggs and black-
shelled pits alike they tucked into the brack,
then broody laid until the glowing sprouts
lead the hatchlings up and out, which browsed
the stems until they glowed, and soldiered off
the waterfall into the sea, camouflaged as stars.
(I like the phrasing here. Works nicely with the rhythm and alliteration.)
Now, one last sad-eyed giant, trumpeting,
forlorn, finally tired, finally (I was unaware one could invert the second foot of an iamb, assuming you were going for pentameter. Not that it's the end of the world )
too old, to keep the mound warm enough . . .

She tries. She tries so hard before she dies.

I think the rhythm works nicely with the subject matter. I'm not the biggest fan of putting a full stop in the middle of a line but that may be more a matter of opinion (as you can probably guess, I'm not the biggest fan of enjambment in this sort of poetry.) Nonetheless, the story does progress quite nicely. A pleasurable poem for me.

[poe]

Can I say I'm (slightly, if not more) jealous? (Never that). But seriously, ditto all the shining critiques of above. A good poem has a fresh use of words, like, "skittering...brack...broody" The rhythm and flow are not obvious, or typical but flow, flow beautifully. There's a lot more to comment on , but I'll post this for starters.
Thank you.

[billy]

i'd never heard of a ghost fruit tree so i googled the bugger.
based on what i found out; the poem is a treat to read, and it gets better the more times i read it. while ebon is archaic it really does fit the poem and someone who hadn't come across it could easily know what it means. if i had to mark the thing it would be the 2nd line which holds two cliches, that said the rest of the poem swallows them up and they're hardly noticed enough to worry about. leanne alread mention the great enjambment and i agree with her, the follow ons you have give the perfect pauses. the last two lines of the 1st stanza sets a great picture in the readers mind and from there on it just got better.

thanks for the read.

The Ghost Fruit

The ghost fruit keeps its secrets. Ebon pits,
big as your fist, litter the ground, picked
clean by starburst wrens, skittering
around. Some seeds three years old. Lit
from behind, their blue germs still shimmer:
lively, tiny, doomed. Soon, none will exist.
one shrinking copse, by a waterfall, persists.
Once, ten-thousand spawning behemoths trenched

the river soil. Black-skinned eggs and black-
shelled pits alike they tucked into the brack, does it need a comma after alike?
then broody laid until the glowing sprouts
lead the hatchlings up and out, which browsed
the stems until they glowed, and soldiered off
the waterfall into the sea, camouflaged as stars.

Now, one last sad-eyed giant, trumpeting,
forlorn, finally tired, finally
too old, to keep the mound warm enough . . .

She tries. She tries so hard before she dies.

[crow]

billy--before and after, I think . . .

---

Also, I failed to cap "one"

[Brownlie]

The Ghost Fruit

The ghost fruit keeps its secrets. Ebon pits,
big as your fist, litter the ground, picked
clean by starburst wrens, skittering
around. Some seeds three years old. Lit -- Is there a sentence fragment here?
from behind, their blue germs still shimmer:
lively, tiny, doomed. Soon, none will exist.
one shrinking copse, by a waterfall, persists.
Once, ten-thousand spawning behemoths trenched

the river soil. Black-skinned eggs and black-
shelled pits alike they tucked into the brack,
then broody laid until the glowing sprouts
lead the hatchlings up and out, which browsed
the stems until they glowed, and soldiered off
the waterfall into the sea, camouflaged as stars.

Now, one last sad-eyed giant, trumpeting,
forlorn, finally tired, finally
too old, to keep the mound warm enough . . .

She tries. She tries so hard before she dies.

Some cool stuff here, I just made one possible critique.