deepundergroundpoetry.com
Passion's Fruit
'Tis night. The islands of the ice-gripped South
Lie still alone. Above them moans the wind
Which, borne from distant tropic river-mouth,
Now shivers-south, far from its home, bare-skinned.
Adrift within the shifting cinder sea
A single passionfruit, by gulls espied,
Is dashed upon the islands’ foam-crowned crags –
But hark – the birds dismay – nothing’s inside!
Do not the heav’ns give birth to Earth’s grey tide?
And is it not the Dance that shapes the Dancer?
Then what’s a fruit that does not bear a seed?
The cormorant cries “Why?” from nameless need:
Why does one creature from his Purpose hide?
Does not the very question shape the answer?
Lie still alone. Above them moans the wind
Which, borne from distant tropic river-mouth,
Now shivers-south, far from its home, bare-skinned.
Adrift within the shifting cinder sea
A single passionfruit, by gulls espied,
Is dashed upon the islands’ foam-crowned crags –
But hark – the birds dismay – nothing’s inside!
Do not the heav’ns give birth to Earth’s grey tide?
And is it not the Dance that shapes the Dancer?
Then what’s a fruit that does not bear a seed?
The cormorant cries “Why?” from nameless need:
Why does one creature from his Purpose hide?
Does not the very question shape the answer?
Published 23rd Apr 2010
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Anonymous
24th Apr 2010 2:11pm
Very much in the "Dark Romantic" vein, this poem interprets nature as a beautifully ominous place, and your flowing, rhythmically perfect language juxtaposes perfectly alongside the delicate yet haunted lines.
24th Apr 2010 9:45pm
Anonymous
25th Apr 2010 5:35am
I love how you peel away the obvious and strike at the darkness within, the final lines are very evocative, could relate to that very well.
26th Apr 2010 9:20am
