I’ve been sitting on this poem for a while, not entirely sure what to do with it. I loved how it came out, but I kept feeling like there was something wrong. I think I finally got it to where I want it, so I’ll let you all be the judge.
In the light, washed white,
all useless details fade, forgotten
in the evening sun, dancing
along the horizon.
I pulled from the ground,
feeling the dirt and rocks between
my fingers, cut and cold
from the morning air seeping down
and down —
Old words, like sticks and leaves
in the bag of mulch, are picked
out and placed on the side,
no longer in the way.
The new words I plan to grow
at home for my own pleasure
already exist, already born,
will make you stop and stare.
All the words can do is lay
and wait for the warm weather,
the next Spring, the next
cycle of life, everything new again.
If you’re interested in submitting your own work, please see my submission guidelines on my blog. I’ve been receiving amazing work from a bunch of you guys so far and I want to keep the streak going.
Books of the Month
Yesterday, I announced a brand new page on my blog called Books of the Month, where I post the books I’m currently reading and five books that are either waiting to be read on my bookshelf or I keep hearing about in the literature world. Go check it out if you haven’t already!