Ragwort (22nd September, 2008, 10.30am)
Rip heart from roots
like Ragwort picking,
gloves slipping;
green juice staining;
grip becoming painful;
weed sliding through;
strength draining;
back aching.
Poisonous
and classified,
holds its yellow heads,
ugly in its pride;
twisted bellies;
damaged livers;
in horses’ guts
it, painful, slithers.
Rip heart from ground
with every sinew;
straining lungs;
I’m fit to burst;
blood and tears
and sweat are staining
all my clothes;
the progress seems
so slow and painful.
Yet I digress,
in some distress;
the tears are pouring;
the process boring;
watch my grip slide;
loosened hold on pride;
I, defeated, cede it.
Comments
_jacobea_ | September 22, 2008 - 12:30
Interesting description of weed pulling and ragworts. The wording of the second stanza, particularly lines four-seven, made me mental compare it to a medieval battle. Good imagery.
jennifer | September 22, 2008 - 14:14
Thank you.
(It's not really a description of weed-pulling and Ragwort. It's a metaphor).
Silver Spun Sand | September 22, 2008 - 16:37
An interesting poem, jennifer and the ragwort imagery works very well.
The ending, particularly strong:-
"Yet I digress,
in some distress;
the tears are pouring;
the process boring;
watch my grip slide;
loosened hold on pride;
I, defeated, cede it."
Ah me, I know the feeling well ... unfortunately.
Tina