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deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Open Grain
We were children walking across her father’s field of grain when an astonishing mystery struck our virgin flesh. One of her hands caressed mine as the other skimmed across the tender tips of life planted by her father.
My chest ached with a longing for my dead mother’s affection as this young friend’s laughter and the summer sun on her breasts asked to be tasted.
Our lightness and aliveness took possession!
What tender grain we shared, unknowing and unafraid. Her kernel opened moist and fertile with the promise of new life.
I fell inside the mystery, and we pressed deep into the warm buttered loaf, chancing this embrace and happily paying whatever costs it might incur.
My chest ached with a longing for my dead mother’s affection as this young friend’s laughter and the summer sun on her breasts asked to be tasted.
Our lightness and aliveness took possession!
What tender grain we shared, unknowing and unafraid. Her kernel opened moist and fertile with the promise of new life.
I fell inside the mystery, and we pressed deep into the warm buttered loaf, chancing this embrace and happily paying whatever costs it might incur.
Published 14th Sep 2021
Author's Note
Years ago, walking a friend across her father’s grain field led to the opening of new mysteries.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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The author encourages honest critique.
15th Sep 2021 00:29am
Poignant read at harvest time. Favourite line:
Her kernel opened moist and fertile with the promise of new life.
This sparked in my mind a possible sequel in short sharp rhyme (might not have happened in your real life but sure did among others'):
From my seed that seeped
a harvest was reaped,
when, nine long months on,
she bore me a son.
Her kernel opened moist and fertile with the promise of new life.
This sparked in my mind a possible sequel in short sharp rhyme (might not have happened in your real life but sure did among others'):
From my seed that seeped
a harvest was reaped,
when, nine long months on,
she bore me a son.
15th Sep 2021 10:56am
Love, is a beautiful thing and you’ve aptly captured that in your write… 🎩
15th Sep 2021 3:15pm
Nice capturing of the moment. Memory is an interesting mechanism. I like what you did here.
Anonymous
15th Sep 2021 6:15pm
What a lovely mystery it was, and lovely ink, Bravo! 💜💜
22nd Dec 2022 7:10pm
Having reread this, a favourite phrase:
the summer sun on her breasts asked to be tasted.
the summer sun on her breasts asked to be tasted.
22nd Dec 2022 9:51pm
23rd Dec 2022 7:46am
