Sunday 23 May 2010

SEASONS

the Daffs time is nearly
OVER
dande
lions
ROAR their presence
sPROUTIN
like many yellow
eyes looking in all directions
their thick fleshy
necks ragged salad
arms that I used to feed to
my hamster
he was a giant
ham
ster
powderpuff, with pink claw
like hands holding the leaf like
a prayer
i him
ROAR

he is dead now
buried in the garden
in a shoe box
just bare dust and
bone
we all end up
yet the wrinkled daffs
still hold to
get
her
in groups like old
men

(32 lines)

Influenced by ee cummings

2 comments:

  1. I love that your "bio" is the first line of Ginsberg's Howl. I'm not even a big fan of The Beats (Sorry!) but that's definitely one of the most powerful social poems of all time.

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  2. The passing of the seasons, of life and death. Summer is a time of death and predation as much as it is a time of birth and renewal. Never far away are the subtle reminders of our own fragile mortality. I had a hamster, a big brute called Chester who would run round his wheel all day. Little did I know then that I would one day be just like him, trapped on my own tread mill. Just as I'll end up in a box in a garden of the dead. I love this poem beatpoet86 - mistress of verse. Superb!

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