poetry critical

online poetry workshop

The Green Fields

Shores of the compliant sea
allow the stubborn ears of corn
to rest upon the shifting sand, and grow
their dying sense of hearing—innocent, they are, to the convulsing
waves that dive upon the golden hair of their scalps; perhaps a colonel
is the kernel, attaching discipline to their stubborn brains;
the growing wall, nevertheless, does not appreciate its cooling
shade, which rains and hides the golden farm of shimmering glints—
which stalk rose and isles and blossoms?
The farmer of Mother Nature, perhaps, if there is such a thing,
but it would have to exist before growth could occur.
Do not lose hope! Such a thing is hard to lose when it
glows, like the moon above the barn with no red paint
to reflect off its clean white surface, the shade that can
darken the light of the filthy day, marred by the particles
pollution emits from its body; not that there is a body, of course,
because that died and became the black ghost that haunts
and lingers above the many buildings of genesis, which
created it, only to be its eventual murderer of no reason,
of blinding insanity that tears off the green leaves
that let the corn hear the approach of the awesome winds,
for that is all that is left—the winds can never be
destroyed by haters of life; they cannot die among
the already burying Earth, in where people dig their lives
to die; and were there one choice, once chance to clean
the fields that suffer from the ugliness of the green
sheen that suffocates the corn, like light that smothers
the fire in which the night burns upon;
if there was a chance—if there was a glorious opening
to close off the pessimistic pesticides, insecticides,
genocides, that murders the abundant resources of nature—
perhaps I could swim in the relaxing
calamity that waters
once streamed
to give.

for inmyblood.

29 Dec 05

Rated 7 (7) by 1 users.
Active (1): 7
Inactive (0):

(define the words in this poem)

Add A Comment:
Enter the following text to post as unknown: captcha


liked it
 — unknown

thanks unknown.
 — listen

Recently Commented (expand)