deepundergroundpoetry.com
Greyscale
The magnolia tree
bloomed early this year.
The drought, the heat
stagnated
the intolerant and withered
the indelible.
The repressive sky
related
to no one
nothing.
The diseased bark
peeled from the limbs
rejecting its own skin
disconnecting
from the source of pain
piece by piece
shedding weight
of ten thousand suns.
Disfigured
dismembered
disarmed
along with carved
names, splinters & weathered wills
falling into
unburdened
blanket of dust.
The propagated branch
laid on the side
in its own obliviousness
rootless from memory
ruthlessly
vainglorified empathy.
I do not question
the glorious blossoms
gasping for last breath
the surreptitiousness
of fear and hope.
Disturbing
history
was not for
the unwitting mankind;
Nor inheritance
The children of pity.
Published 8th Jun 2020
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I read it through once fluidly, then slowly, considering each stanza. It comes to life in a quite vivid dystopian image. I can see the bark sloughing off, the fallen limb, it striking the parched earth, commingling in a cloud of dust. While the literal translation is powerful, I am thinking about what it connotes metaphorically. I could easily connect with a commentary of this year, which has seen such loss, strife and fear. Wearing a mask has become so commonplace. I walked to Walmart this morning and they have a greeter outside, counting the number of people allowed inside at any given time. She said hello. I was all in black. Black hat, black sunglasses, black mask. I said, Hello, Luke. I am your father. Nothing. Guessing she wasn't a Star Wars fan. Anyhow I digress. An unhealthy system of various sorts could be related to a dying tree. Ideas of self, relationships. I think perhaps the use of propagated is a key word here. The branch grows from the tree. The seed grows into a tree. Kind of a reap what we sow metaphor comes to mind. The blossoms wilt. The legacy handed down, children of pity. Seems a lament of what we are handing down to future generations. Probably way off but don't tell anybody I'm supposed to be good at this. Shhh just play along. Jk lol. It's a very well written piece sugah.
8th Jun 2020 1:58am
8th Jun 2020 4:15am
8th Jun 2020 3:27pm
Magic as always...like fine wine Your wait pays off substantial and quality everytime!!!
Dark to be sure, Grayscale is a perfect damn title!!!
Metaphor and gloom ride hand in hand You chipper Penthrift
How I love the dismal in flowing poetry
You are one who knows its art quite well!!!
Glad You are Here!!!
Dark to be sure, Grayscale is a perfect damn title!!!
Metaphor and gloom ride hand in hand You chipper Penthrift
How I love the dismal in flowing poetry
You are one who knows its art quite well!!!
Glad You are Here!!!
8th Jun 2020 9:19pm
Anonymous
- Edited 9th Apr 2022 5:45am
13th Jun 2020 5:00pm
<< post removed >>
14th Jun 2020 10:58pm
Reading this over a third time, I remain awestruck for words. As mentioned above, there's a sense of topicality and yet it's left open enough to defy a single reading, or conclusion. The wisdom found in older spiritual poetry. Which does not shun the world, but confronts the inevitability of it. A sudden twist, still teasing me: "Disturbing / history / was not for / the unwitting mankind; / Nor inheritance / The children of pity." How can I not admire such an exquisite weave, suddenly pulled out from under me, like this?
