OK

Cherry

By Parson Thru

Fri, 23 Aug 2013
  • 3612 reads
14 comments
 

OK

 

This morning

is not a good time

for it

 

My fucking head

is mashed

The whole thing

is hashed

And I feel like

I’ll never get it right

 

So I stop

and close my eyes

as life crowds in

 

Phone calls

Birthdays

Family

Work

and Life

Life, Life, Life

 

I want to sit

beneath the sky

and just be

 

Just be me

 

Outside

Berries burn

among the rowan

Shell-burst spears of buddleia

are part spent

The sun

is wearying of the year

and gazes

longingly

to the south

 

Inside

I shed a tear

for an empty field

Step into

someone else’s shoes

And walk

to where they're taking me

Certificate PG
Poem
The found summer of a motorcycle hermit
Miscellaneous

Comments

Submitted by Bee on

Sounds like it's not, (or recently hasn't) been a very good day for you, and I'm sorry for that, but then again, it has inspired you to write this lovely poem. I like the way you work from the cramped drudgery of inside to the freedom of the natural world outside. When I was out walking yesterday I noticed all the raspberries and blackberries in the hedgerows and looking at the buddleias in my garden, they are just as you describe, so I guess some of this is true for now. 

Keep meditating on where you'd rather be...

Hope you have a lovely day.

Bee

Submitted by Parson Thru on

Thank you for bringing out the sun, Bee.

Parson Thru

Submitted by scratch on

Love the bit about the spent buddleia.

 

Submitted by Parson Thru on

Hi scratch. I look at them every year and try to sum them up. One day. Thanks.

Parson Thru

Submitted by seashore on

I like!

Submitted by Parson Thru on

Thank you coral.

Parson Thru

Submitted by Parson Thru on

Thank you picker of cherries. They've grubbed-up my blackthorns!

Parson Thru

Submitted by scratch on

The swines!

 

Submitted by Ray Schaufeld on

I love the spent buddleia too. I live near budleigh so there are heaps near me. This year they are attracting a lot of cabbage whites.

Submitted by Parson Thru on

I like cabbage whites, elsie.  Their powder reminds me of mis-spent youth in other people's gardens. Used to get wonderful arrangements of buddleia in the upper brickwork of buildings seen from trains crossing inner London. Probably still do, in fact.  Does the buddleia still exist if I no longer see it?  Of course it does, silly bugger! Same for the universe then, too.  I love your Ginsberg quote. Poor Naomi. Poor Allen. Poor us.

Parson Thru

Submitted by scratch on

Luvin the whole thing mate.

 

Submitted by Parson Thru on

Me too, Pete. Who said virtual life couldn't be fun. ;-)

Parson Thru

Submitted by VeraClark on

You've captured that unspoken about longing and prohibited right in busy lifestyles..being ourselves.The emptying natural images reinforce it all beautifully. The last two lines rammed the nail's head in for me.

 

Submitted by Parson Thru on

Hi Vera. It's an itch that is difficult not to scratch.  Glad it resonated.  Thank you.

Parson Thru