In a Handful of Poetry

 


 

In a handful of poetry
A word opens, rising, ripening
A bright pear stitched into a tree,
Stitched into a garden waiting

For its awakening, the hand of the child,
Its yearning arching, its reaching
Past and through the mother, look now wild;
She, the child within her branching,

Looks without their hunger facing:
Listen to the syntax of their racing
Teeth now practice skilled carpentry
On a handful of poetry.

 

© PilgermannBM 2021
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critique and comments welcome.
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Stormwolf

Beautiful. Transcending everything through the beauty of creation, the Great Mystery that surrounds us all but many do not see.

Poetry speaks when words fail.
Alison x

Dodgem

My Goodness – this is good!! And not your usual style. And is it me, or are there so many excellent submissions coming in now?

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