deepundergroundpoetry.com
Time
The plants need watering.
Prized possessions in succession on the sill,
once specifically selected for offering; loved by me still.
The leaves move south recessed in soundless surrender.
No blossom in bloom; dirt crumbles in vain.
Facing midday September sun
the shrubs fashion a curtain of shame;
shapes of light crawl on my carpet; marionettes
exchange dances, puppeteered by the breeze.
Fine theatre; and the pressure! Room
personifies and begs me to ascend! Advance! Seize!
The plants need watering.
Truth is caught in the brown and wilting;
sadness in ceramics. The leaves are leaving.
Botanical beauties, once centers of conversations
heralding my horticultural brilliance now
mere pillars of rude recollections.
Beneath, the heirloom decanter discarded,
distorted. All else is gone.
My mind is made.
Will wake early, ponder change, and likely
water the plants tomorrow.
Prized possessions in succession on the sill,
once specifically selected for offering; loved by me still.
The leaves move south recessed in soundless surrender.
No blossom in bloom; dirt crumbles in vain.
Facing midday September sun
the shrubs fashion a curtain of shame;
shapes of light crawl on my carpet; marionettes
exchange dances, puppeteered by the breeze.
Fine theatre; and the pressure! Room
personifies and begs me to ascend! Advance! Seize!
The plants need watering.
Truth is caught in the brown and wilting;
sadness in ceramics. The leaves are leaving.
Botanical beauties, once centers of conversations
heralding my horticultural brilliance now
mere pillars of rude recollections.
Beneath, the heirloom decanter discarded,
distorted. All else is gone.
My mind is made.
Will wake early, ponder change, and likely
water the plants tomorrow.
Published 17th Oct 2021
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 8
reading list entries 4
comments 10
reads 715
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
Anonymous
- Edited 29th Jan 2022 7:45am
17th Oct 2021 4:45pm
<< post removed >>
17th Oct 2021 6:34pm
Thank you, kind poet. I enjoyed writing this one, morphed into something completely different than it started as, which always pleases me for some reason. Really allows me to see the life in a poem that I am not always in control of. :)
Happy Sunday, ursa 💜
Happy Sunday, ursa 💜
17th Oct 2021 7:32pm
17th Oct 2021 10:46pm
Thank you so much, O, you are so kind. Sincerely appreciated. Hope that you are having a great day. warmly, ursa 💜 💜
18th Oct 2021 11:45am
I completely concur with you,
regarding the embracing of the internal essence of the poetic movement.
I think that this movement is
more sensually/intellectually expansive/pure when such a thing is heeded.
I like this piece,
I get the impression of beauty that surfaces in all things.
Like seeing even the beauty in decay,
or the creation in destruction.
and being in tune and connected.
Following the poetic movement.
Nicely done.
regarding the embracing of the internal essence of the poetic movement.
I think that this movement is
more sensually/intellectually expansive/pure when such a thing is heeded.
I like this piece,
I get the impression of beauty that surfaces in all things.
Like seeing even the beauty in decay,
or the creation in destruction.
and being in tune and connected.
Following the poetic movement.
Nicely done.
18th Oct 2021 2:07pm
Hello Cipher_O,
Thank you again, for the read, for the comment, for the honour of being an RL pick; sincerely appreciated
I offer a question: if poetic movement happens best when we get out of the way/ reduce our need to control.. can this translate for more flow in life as well? I would have to say yes. :) If we can just control our greatest hang-ups, self-doubting thoughts, our resistances that tend to impede our best efforts, I say let it all flow, and enjoy the ride (not easy to do at times).
Hope you're in the flow today all day, easily and effortlessly!
warmly,
ursa 💜
Thank you again, for the read, for the comment, for the honour of being an RL pick; sincerely appreciated
I offer a question: if poetic movement happens best when we get out of the way/ reduce our need to control.. can this translate for more flow in life as well? I would have to say yes. :) If we can just control our greatest hang-ups, self-doubting thoughts, our resistances that tend to impede our best efforts, I say let it all flow, and enjoy the ride (not easy to do at times).
Hope you're in the flow today all day, easily and effortlessly!
warmly,
ursa 💜
Anonymous
20th Oct 2021 7:15am
Plants, specifically houseplants, are one of my favorite things.
Emily Dickinson was acknowledged during her life as an accomplished botanist.
One of my favorite books of all time is "The Secret Life of Plants"--if you haven't read it, you should.
Deprived of sun & water--plants can survive on nothing more that LOVE, or what we would call "spiritual energy."
Likewise, negative mental energy can kill otherwise healthy plants.
The French homosexual artist, Jean Cocteau, once remarked that if one wanted to truly "see" oneself, one needed, in his words, to look at the people around him, "like a beautiful woman" would judge her beauty.
I say, "pish posh"--if you want to see yourself, look at your plants. They will absorb and respond to your energy, as well as ALL of the energy--mental and spiritual--that surrounds.
Tremendous beings.
Really enjoyed this, although I'm sorry to hear about your plants.
Nice lines and images, and some very absorbing rhythms, images, and line breaks.
eg
Truth is caught in the brown and wilting;
sadness in ceramics. The leaves are leaving.
Botanical beauties, once centers of conversations
heralding my horticultural brilliance now
mere pillars of rude recollections.
Not a fixed meter, but interesting shifts that come off.
Enjoyed!
Emily Dickinson was acknowledged during her life as an accomplished botanist.
One of my favorite books of all time is "The Secret Life of Plants"--if you haven't read it, you should.
Deprived of sun & water--plants can survive on nothing more that LOVE, or what we would call "spiritual energy."
Likewise, negative mental energy can kill otherwise healthy plants.
The French homosexual artist, Jean Cocteau, once remarked that if one wanted to truly "see" oneself, one needed, in his words, to look at the people around him, "like a beautiful woman" would judge her beauty.
I say, "pish posh"--if you want to see yourself, look at your plants. They will absorb and respond to your energy, as well as ALL of the energy--mental and spiritual--that surrounds.
Tremendous beings.
Really enjoyed this, although I'm sorry to hear about your plants.
Nice lines and images, and some very absorbing rhythms, images, and line breaks.
eg
Truth is caught in the brown and wilting;
sadness in ceramics. The leaves are leaving.
Botanical beauties, once centers of conversations
heralding my horticultural brilliance now
mere pillars of rude recollections.
Not a fixed meter, but interesting shifts that come off.
Enjoyed!
21st Oct 2021 2:04pm
Hello Mark,
Thank you for the comment and suggestion of The Secret Life of Plants. I don't think I want to see myself through my plants. I am the chronic over-waterer, overly loving them, begging them to grow. I have learned to take a step back and learn to love from afar; accept them. :)
I will admit that my plants and my pets have been loving the pandemic; more time, more togetherness..
My plants are okay :), here in this poem used as an illustration for depression and apathy.
Have a great day, hope you're well,
ursa 💜
Thank you for the comment and suggestion of The Secret Life of Plants. I don't think I want to see myself through my plants. I am the chronic over-waterer, overly loving them, begging them to grow. I have learned to take a step back and learn to love from afar; accept them. :)
I will admit that my plants and my pets have been loving the pandemic; more time, more togetherness..
My plants are okay :), here in this poem used as an illustration for depression and apathy.
Have a great day, hope you're well,
ursa 💜
Dear U,
This poem reminds me of all the times I’ll commit to something (like starting a new exercise regime) in hope of changing all the parts of me that need fixing. Fresh renewal. Day 2, new exercise regimen is completely abandoned because I pulled something and can’t move from the pain and now that sets off the woe is to me spiral and I just don’t care. I loved the metaphor of the dying leaves yet just enough staying in the stem to promise hope. Great view, great write. H🌷
This poem reminds me of all the times I’ll commit to something (like starting a new exercise regime) in hope of changing all the parts of me that need fixing. Fresh renewal. Day 2, new exercise regimen is completely abandoned because I pulled something and can’t move from the pain and now that sets off the woe is to me spiral and I just don’t care. I loved the metaphor of the dying leaves yet just enough staying in the stem to promise hope. Great view, great write. H🌷
23rd Oct 2021 2:06pm
Dear H,
Thank you, kind one. Apathy. Sticks like glue to depression like procrastination is attached to anxiety. Far too often, when we want to do something, we talk ourselves out of as fast as we talk ourselves in. easier to roll over and wait for another day, while the world waits for our next arrival.
Thank you for your kind words. I appreciate you.
ursa 💜
Thank you, kind one. Apathy. Sticks like glue to depression like procrastination is attached to anxiety. Far too often, when we want to do something, we talk ourselves out of as fast as we talk ourselves in. easier to roll over and wait for another day, while the world waits for our next arrival.
Thank you for your kind words. I appreciate you.
ursa 💜
