…and here is the second for Donna’s prompt. I’m sure somebody has written an Eden story from the point of view of the tree before, but I tried to be a bit lush without saying outright the theme of the fable. And my own thoughts are this: the loss of Eden is not necessarily the loss of immortality and bliss, but the loss of knowing the value of the good and the bad. Eden, paradise, whatever you want to call it: there is a constant pull towards the brighter, the better, the juicier, etc., without an appreciation of the things that counterbalance them. (It’s kind of a Taoist approach, I’ll grant you.) Remember the Snapple cap: “If every day was a good day, there’d be no good days.”
(The “creaks” near the end was a typo for “breaks”, but I actually like it much better: the heart strains under a great weight, threatening – but not quite – to break.)
Side note: I’m still taking names for the new prompt series starting this weekend. I think I saw that a couple people have already commented on Sunday’s post with offers to have me pick apart their poems, so at least there will be one customer. Anyone else want to put their work in?
Dilmun
Now only the immortal orioles and painted bramblings
tug loose my tapestry, and the fruit falls to the ground,
naked and quick to rot. Bee-eaters put on their green
cloaks and sing my name. But no one is here to stand
two-handed in the pools and trail the flowering rushes.
And no one will climb me for the sake of garlands,
or to rip loose the canopied sky. Snakes coil humbly
around my roots, gnawing slowly at the earth. They
do not bite. In the summer, kingfishers ride the shamal
bearing rain where no rain will fall, a hundred minnows
the instruments of their symphony. But no one is here
remarking on the sorrow of death for the sake of beauty,
or the sleep of storms, balanced against the desert
with all its blessed agony. What is the greatest sin?
Not a thousand pearls of dawn or a devouring night,
but the infinity between and how it is given gravity
towards one or the other. And it creaks the heart with
its everything-at-once; and slowly my fruit goes to waste.
There is something about this prompt that works, isn’t there? I adored the Carol Berg poem and I love this, too. The tree has a distinct voice that sounds right.
Oh shoot. I hope the other person got a poem to you. I’ll stop the blog, now and find one, although that is not giving you fair time. You may end up doing you as a start :-).
As usual, I enjoy the writing; however, there is something I really like about this one. Several of the beginnings of lines call out in their own voices–”tug loose my tapestry,” “naked and quick to rot,” “around my roots,” “do not bite” for example. Poem within the poem . . . or those are the echoes I heard. I really love the voice, so solemn. Another favorite in my JH collection.
this is wonderful, so many great lines…
I think these were my favorite: “And no one will climb me for the sake of garlands,
or to rip loose the canopied sky.”
i love it.
“Not a thousand pearls of dawn or a devouring night,
but the infinity between and how it is given gravity
towards one or the other.”… wow!
One word: Gorgeous.
beautiful. i like that it has a rhythm and surreal imagery until you think ‘tree’ and then it falls into place.
if you would like to critique any of mine feel free =) http://crankymango.blogspot.tw/
This is gorgeous. I wanted to paste what I liked best, e.g. “no one is here to stand two-handed in the pools and trail the flowering rushes” BUT
I wanted to paste it all!
Charming to present the tree’s perspective. Enjoyed!
RE: your thirteen poets. Would have to agree.
Very good! And I agree that “creaks” is a happy error, adding great texture to that line.
I always consider the perspective of other natural creatures/beings. I talk to the plants and wildlife, and I’m pretty sure they understand. ;-) This piece, therefore, delights me.
Your personification is incredible, especially the creaks.