A Poem About Soil

I can't believe it, but I wrote a poem tonight. It has been forever since I've done this. And about soil, no less! Well, I'm not planning on making this blog into an exclusive poetry session, that's just how it's been lately, and I promise it is only a phase. But check it out, I wrote a dirty poem!!

Into the Soil

I sink my fingers into the garden floor –
Fleshy human roots reaching
into the world below.
An organic aroma emerges
from the soil explored by my hands.
Decaying violets, gladiolas, maple leaves
offer their souls up
as their bodies melt into black humus.
This is how, one day, the last of my body shall exhale away.
But for now I turn up the remains of ancestors
And sink embryos of new plants just under the surface
So new life will send up periscopes out of the darkness –
A stem, some leaves –
Yet spend much of their energy seeking
Essentials from the underworld.

Other secret things may happen there:
Flowers may shake hands underground
And entwine each other’s roots in darkness
To support or strangle one another.
And some roots may rot away in sickness,
and slugs may usurp sugary blood --
a plant may struggle against an unseen enemy
until its leaves pale
and it drops them one by one as tacit tears.
There are victories in this world, too –
They manifest above, as tiny swollen seeds,
With little fanfare.

Then there are the others that live below
Those that gnaw on nature’s bloated remains
And unmake dead things to be made again.
They are the undertakers and embalmers,
And accountants, storing up riches.
But these workings, too, go on unseen
As I scar their world with my tools
And the mounds of earth I mould up,
become new mountains for ants and spiders.

I pretend for a minute
that this garden is mine to govern,
These plants my loyal subjects,
And this patch of earth –
I imagine it is also my earth.
But I know better.
After all, it is I on my knees in this garden,
bowing my head in obeisance,
hands petitioning the soil.

Another "Love" Poem

Dedicated to My Heart

I’d like to dedicate this poem …
Lonely or aching, brave or bleeding,
Valiant, stolen, sick,
Sometimes worn on a sleeve
(Which the author of this poem does not recommend)
Often in the wrong place,
Or,
Sometimes in the right place
Just at the wrong time.
I dedicate this poem to you --
You.
Who have failed me time and again.

And, if I wasn’t relying on you
To beat once a second
To supply blood to my lungs,
I’d tell you off once and for all,
“It’s over,” I’d say,
“We’re not right for each other,”
and, “We should be friends.”
Then maybe I could place the ad:
SWF seeks sturdy heart
For long walks alone
Through difficult terrain,
Prefers: non-smoking,
courageous,
non-breakable.

This poem I wrote a few years ago after reading one too many sappy love poems, and not being in love myself at the time. I think this one would be super fun to read at some open mic night, hopefully in between two especially sappy love poems :)