Monday, June 27, 2011

Tuesday Poem


It’s not just buttercups with their essential gold
who reach into the soil and won’t let go.
Not the lemon balm and its stubborn root-stump
that requires more than mere trowel;
not only the invader blackberries, nor bindweed that tunnels
fleshy rhizomes in an underground thicket gone mad—
No: it is also this human heart that refuses to ease
its fervor, long past sense, or obligation.

If only the heart were one of these weeds
whose pith I could sever with the tip of a spade—
Not this fusty tuber, this spud-of-an organ that defies all efforts
to be routed-out and heaped into compost, a pile of bracken

I would set a match to, be done with.

© T.Clear 2011


  1. Beautiful work....I love this.

  2. Nice metaphore, a lovely piece of work.

  3. fleshy rhizomes in an underground thicket gone mad—

    ah, what a vision!

    though your human heart can feel great pain, you would not want to cut it out and burn it, dear, I know it. I know that that is your sorrow talking, and that your sorrow is big now. But not forever, no. I know it.

  4. mybabyjohn, thank you for your comment. I appreciate you taking the time!

  5. AJPonder, thanks for stopping by!

  6. Tara, it's's just a poem :)

  7. I love the rhythms and sounds of the weed/flower words and the 'not' repetition, and all the stunning sounds like these 'p' and 'st' sounds... whose pith I could sever with the tip of a spade—/Not this fusty tuber, this spud-of-an organ that defies all efforts/to be routed-out

    - fabulous!!

  8. I enjoyed the garden imagery, T--& quite right, gardens are both more patient and more malleable! :-)

  9. Gardens demand pains and they inflict them too, sometimes. Sigh.

    Life. Sigh. This life.

    Love, C.

  10. This is s lovely poem, with beautiful language and metaphor. It has real strength. Thank you.

  11. If only...the ferocious, elbow-grease images, severing what keeps on so stubbornly...your inspiration from everyday life inspires me to look more deeply. I think this is very well done. xo

  12. I just came upon this, and it so captures the intense struggle we can get sucked into with weeds, when we get to the heart metaphor it is our hearts that won't be torn out and burned as well as yours. Pain and struggle are so hard to endure. It's a beautiful poem, T, fierce and precise. xoxoxo

  13. Eileen, I'm glad you stopped by.

    The garden offers so much -- metaphor being only one thing from which we benefit.

    Thank you, thank you.