Growing Season

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  • Inspirational

    Growing Season

     Roses have grown from your lips
    but I only see you spitting thorns.
    I must cut away all of these vines.  They creep into my skin.
    Before I can sneak away.  They pull me back again.
    So I must go deep into the fields and cultivate this soil.
    It is there I will plant the seed.
    In time I shall watch it grow strong.
    Hoping for it to rip throught the earth and become something new.
    Destroying all surrounding life.
    An invasive plant freeing me from the hold of each thorn filled limb.

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    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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    RiderPunch’s Poems (18)

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