"crysanthemums" poems - Hello Poetry

Shot a rabbit two days ago, it was a good shot taken at distance from height. The rabbit died instantly, it had been digging holes in my lawns, it had to go. I watched it die and I had cause to ponder the death from a religious angle, where believers say we go to another place when we die? I know where this rabbit went, he went into my vegetable garden, buried deep with all the other varmints and critters that have crossed my path. Over the years we, (my wife and I), have turned that patch of barren volcanic ash into a wondrous source of lettuce, potatoes, onions, rhubarb, tomatoes and leek..by adding the carbonaceous remnants of not only these creatures but of composted vegetation, seaweed and selected fertilizers. We also grow the most beautiful roses and deliahs and crysanthemums you will ever come across. And do you know...in the dark of night other little rabbits and bugs and things come out and nibble those very creations...unaware that they are completing the circle of being. This is the true spirit of creation, as I see it, where deep in the garden, the motes of nutrition transmogrify beneficially from one entity to another, eventually, for the common good of all. This is the basis of my belief. Feet on the ground... What is....most definately is! M. Taranaki NZ

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Oct 29, 2018

Oct 29, 2018 at 3:32 PM UTC

marshal-gebbie

Round and round it goes.....

Shot a rabbit two days ago, it was a good shot taken at distance from height. The rabbit died instantly, it had been digging holes in my lawns, it had to go. I watched it die and I had cause to ponder the death from a religious angle, where believers say we go to another place when we die? I know where this rabbit went, he went into my vegetable garden, buried deep with all the other varmints and critters that have crossed my path. Over the years we, (my wife and I), have turned that patch of barren volcanic ash into a wondrous source of lettuce, potatoes, onions, rhubarb, tomatoes and leek..by adding the carbonaceous remnants of not only these creatures but of composted vegetation, seaweed and selected fertilizers. We also grow the most beautiful roses and deliahs and crysanthemums you will ever come across. And do you know...in the dark of night other little rabbits and bugs and things come out and nibble those very creations...unaware that they are completing the circle of being. This is the true spirit of creation, as I see it, where deep in the garden, the motes of nutrition transmogrify beneficially from one entity to another, eventually, for the common good of all. This is the basis of my belief. Feet on the ground... What is....most definately is! M. Taranaki NZ

10

Shall i fight this or throw in the towel? The weight of this feeling, So unwieldy and amorphous Grappling with connection Derangement of all senses Swathed in a veil of disguises Oh what have i done to deserve you The weight of this feeling, So naked and overpowering Crysanthemums and shrooms Rimbaud quatrain in technicolor You are the roadmap to my life The weight of this feeling, So unfeigned and unquestionable Treading frigid and lovelorn terrain With sieve-minded memory of Futile spoutings of hegel in counseling The weight of this feeling, So tangible and concrete Warts all over your face, Worms crawling through my spine, Loveless lives in terminal decline The weight of this feeling, So deep-seated and unrelenting Shall i fight this or throw in the towel? The weight of this feeling, So heavy and sad

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Jun 15, 2016

Jun 15, 2016 at 8:03 PM UTC

charan-babu

Roadmap

Shall i fight this or throw in the towel? The weight of this feeling, So unwieldy and amorphous Grappling with connection Derangement of all senses Swathed in a veil of disguises Oh what have i done to deserve you The weight of this feeling, So naked and overpowering Crysanthemums and shrooms Rimbaud quatrain in technicolor You are the roadmap to my life The weight of this feeling, So unfeigned and unquestionable Treading frigid and lovelorn terrain With sieve-minded memory of Futile spoutings of hegel in counseling The weight of this feeling, So tangible and concrete Warts all over your face, Worms crawling through my spine, Loveless lives in terminal decline The weight of this feeling, So deep-seated and unrelenting Shall i fight this or throw in the towel? The weight of this feeling, So heavy and sad

27

They may have grown in a wood or a garden, wholly in bloom. They now rise from the vase in a sovereign floating of joy : crysanthemums in bud, narcissus, full-blown peonies and tulips, fulfilling themselves, they ripple and throb with passion. They speak to each other. One bloom has fallen, an arabesque of salmon pink. The empty shells and one small insect add a spiritual dimension, mortality’s immediency, a yearning for the unattainble. Those delicate blossoms hang against the blue sky, nostalgic for eternity.

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Oct 20, 2020

Oct 20, 2020 at 5:03 AM UTC

lutindog

STILL LIFE WITH FLOWER VASE

They may have grown in a wood or a garden, wholly in bloom. They now rise from the vase in a sovereign floating of joy : crysanthemums in bud, narcissus, full-blown peonies and tulips, fulfilling themselves, they ripple and throb with passion. They speak to each other. One bloom has fallen, an arabesque of salmon pink. The empty shells and one small insect add a spiritual dimension, mortality’s immediency, a yearning for the unattainble. Those delicate blossoms hang against the blue sky, nostalgic for eternity.

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