Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Weeds

sprout



Weeds


Out 
of its quirky carapace
comes the green shoot
comes its partner root
questing for place.

Out
of the fumbling cotyledon,
with its rudimentary
green spurs the opening fist,
come the true leaves
born for the light.

Down 
through the sharp sand
the hardpan clay
the barrier stone
uncaring which

tendrils dance and turn
with the malleable earth,
in elemental shapeshift
 ever ductile ever smooth
powered by an infinite fuel.

Above 
and below
unity of purpose
one mind of being
all choices made
before the push begins.

Then
in a haphazard ordering,
the casual digits
of the giants
pluck them out
again.


May 2011



will be
Posted for  OneShotWednesday  at the inimitable OneStopPoetry





NOTE: We  had severe storms and two powerful tornadoes come very close to us last night, but we are all okay and no damage done here. We  did have a power outage so my computer was off, causing withdrawal pangs, but otherwise all is well.
~hw 5/25/11



34 comments:

  1. after reading this i will feel sorry for every singel weed i pull out hedge...but honestly - the weeds live a happy life in my garden at the moment...smiles
    another beautiful poem and also a great image

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  2. O the immense rooms inside the weeds we yank like distracted gods! You nailed the green symmetry of "above and below," the dual engines of plant growth, reaching out at the same time roots grip down. A marriage of the parts; a unio of function which we, multitasking nightmares, gallop over with our more purposeful, restless, careless hooves. The magic here is in what Nature simply and only can bequeath, a charm the poet can at best emulate by naming carefully. Which you have. Well done, friend. - Brendan

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  3. you even make weeds look good
    love the biology integrated into the fiber of your work

    Thanks my friend :)

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  4. Love this poem! My definition of a weed is rather fluid; when my lovely poppies threaten to drown my lavender, those poppies are weeds. However, I encourage patches of various things others tell me are weeds that should be pulled out.

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  5. Weeds are always a question? It's just because we say they are "weeds" we don't want them. Have you noticed how they cuddle up to a domestic plants and try to look like them, they are tricky indeed. And like every living thing, they want to survive!

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  6. Hedge...
    That weed looks just like....WEED!!
    Cotyledon indeed!
    I hate looking up words...SCAMP!!!
    Loved your One-Shot....G

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  7. Now even the weeds seem majestic, in their own way. Powerful and enchanting words!

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  8. Lyrical ode. I especially like "with its rudimentary / green spurs the opening fist".

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  9. Well well well.. nicely weeded, Joy.. oops, I mean "nicely worded"! I really liked the metaphorical use of weeds here... I read this as each one with their own virtues and flaws, and how these coexist, until the owner (the individual) chooses between the two.
    There was a lot of depth in this poem, my dear.. really nice! And the single-word stanza openers were like SUPER EFFECTIVE!!

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  10. probably to give to some chick to try and...oh sorry...nicely done...so much of the flower we dont see that is essential yet less appreciated...eloquent hedge...

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  11. Love being called a giant. Watch me trundle along. I wonder what behemoths haphazardly pluck us out. :D

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  12. Excellent poem. The weeds always win....

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  13. They own my yard - I gave up trying to keep them at bay - they're joined by the beautiful but cruel mimosa whose delicate flowers belie their treacherous roots. They are shoving aside hardy crape myrtle while the kudzu crawls across them all. Call it a jungle. They have become the giants and they rule. Gorgeous poem (and yeah, I know it's another one of your fabulous metaphors - oh for that plant insight, dear one). Always jealous of that mastery of language of yours! Gay

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  14. Beautiful. "Born for the light" -- no matter how hard they keep the weeds down, they will rise.

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  15. The above poem is delightful! Written by a true wordsmith, thank you so much for sharing here.

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  16. "...powered by an infinite fuel..." not the weeds alone but us all as you so eloquently unravel in sparse words and controlled lines. I see in the poem unseen survival that goes on in the universe so hidden so smooth that even the 'giant digits' do what they have to, "haphazard ordering" in as casual as the movement hardly or never felt. Again, thank you for taking me deep into roots I wouldn't dig in.

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  17. Dear Hedgewitch
    Beautiful birthing of a seed... learned a new word 'Cotyledon' too. I enjoyed the subtle progress of the verse and the beauty within...
    Thanks for sharing...

    Shashi
    ॐ नमः शिवाय
    Om Namah Shivaya
    http://shadowdancingwithmind.blogspot.com/2011/05/whispers-buddha-and-life.html
    At Twitter @VerseEveryDay

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  18. Powered by an infinite fuel these soldiers soldier on! A great celebration of what is usually a despised life form!

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  19. Beautiful! The weeds always win, don't they? :)

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  20. Oh man. You paint this marvelous portrait of a seed sprouting, making it seem magical and blessed, and then come giants!

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  21. Hope you didn't get any surprises yesterday from the Swirly Weedpickers that waltzed through Oklahoma yesterday. Strange, extreme year. - Brendan

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  22. Thanks all, for reading and commenting. We had a rough night here, but today finds us all still standing and no harm but some frayed nerve endings. Many people however, were not so lucky, and more tornadoes are forecast elsewhere for today as the system moves east. We were very fortunate here to escape with only 13 dead, but the devastation in the rural areas that were hit directly was unbelievable. (For anyone interested in helping, the Red Cross is always our first responder and does tremendous good in these situations.)

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  23. I am glad you survived last night's storms as did we. Midwest U.S. is victim to some kind of "giant" this spring. These storms and tornadoes are best described by the words of your last stanza! I hope the devastation ends soon. many blessings,
    Sheila

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  24. you give the tender weeds a sweet life, lovely write ~ Rose

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  25. Hope you dreamt of Oz and not Ozzy while you hunkered down for the night. - Brendan

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  26. The shape of the poem and its repetitious cadences has the power of growth as it strives up the page. I really enjoyed this piece - so life-affirming.

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  27. Thanks, Kerry.And thanks for all your visits and kind comments.

    @Brendan Of all the horrific and disturbing dreams I've had in my time, it is with great happiness and relief I can say I have never yet dreamed of Ozzie. If it should happen in future, I'm holding you accountable as the Man Behind the Screen.

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  28. Lovely poem about the persistence of growth. In my gardening years, I used to wonder if carrots hurt when I pulled them, so hard did they cling to the earth........glad you were not in the path of the tornadoes. Such devastation. This planet is struggling terribly.

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  29. Very well worded. But I'm still gonna pull 'em!
    ;-)

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  30. You made me harken back to my old field bio classes...personally, beauty in nature is found even in weeds...beauty is certainly found in your poetry ~

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  31. I'll be damned if you didn't just use "cotyledon" in a poem and make it sound GOOD. You amaze me.

    Glad that you and yours are safe. We're fine here, too. We were on the schedule to be flattened, but we got lucky.

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  32. Beautiful as always. A weed in center stage - such sensitive description; complete with a giant that made it down the beanstalk to pick Jack.

    So happy to learn you are safe. I prayed for you this morning --- not knowing you were among those I prayed for of course. Incredible, frightening weather this year, almost as if the weather won't be upstaged by the horrors of our world situation.

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'Poetry is an echo asking a shadow to dance' ~Carl Sandburg