Your warmth whispers to the core nestled here and sometimes I fear will never shine me to the heights. . .
Days I drown in moist and soaking seep, permeating all the dreams asleep,
feeding notions of motion dancing in fleeting caresses warm, cool, cold, wet, frozen, hot, so hot…why do I know these that I do not know?
I do not know dark or light or sight but smell and taste and well, oh well, oh well, oh well…but still…this humming recognition of what I do not know bespeaks so much
straining, straining in my core is the knowing what is not known because somewhere back there on a hill I knew and grew taller for decades, surpassing the oldest man in town and sinking more deeply into all that buries me now, shelters and haunts of nothing else but darkest nourishing all around, fleeting sensations of warm,
warm echoes of radiance bringing me to green…but this, this is now, this burial shroud speaking back the glory clouds and birthing me to the death of this place, of this no face.
And all this, all this soaking speaking permeation is all
your warmth whispers and calls, stirs my need, all that is me and drowns my days
in night I would not know had I not known you once before.
jrk © 2006, 2010
15 thoughts on “Seed”
the voice and style in this is uniquely strong, very engaging, very appropriate! It is deeper than a casual reading would reveal I think. But then, I’d hardly expect less from you.
I must have returned here 6 or 7 times without commenting on this one. We need to root in order to remain but reach out in order to grow. Amazingly, each feeds the other.
Deep calls to deep…maybe? Resonance and rootedness.
Very nice CousinJ,
Makes a nice metaphor for spiritual journey–having known, wanting to know again warmth and light of the sun. Beautifully written. 🙂
Thank you…it spilled out of one of those wintry times of disintegration a few years back. And it’s appropriate year after year. Hugs…
Hey, Red, that is really good stuff–really, but you don’t need an old hack like me telling you what you must already know. Good stuff.
“A poem lovely as a tree?”
I got one that I like but I think Joyce might not care for what I did to it. It begins with,
“I think I shall never see
A Hippie in a SUV.”
Hey Doc…jez what you think you doin here, talkin ’bout hippies in SUVs?!!! The blasphemy! Tsk tsk.
I thought of that poem, a poem as lovely as a tree… there is no lovelier poem, actually.
the rhyme won’t quit…i must get gone before it becomes a ridiciulous song
long done with logic…
I agree and it was the poem that came to mind when I read yours.
Yours is better.
So beautiful Ruth.
jruth – Thank you deeply! …. for the kind and generous comments you posted on my pages. Your gracious remarks warm me and Im grateful for your visit and comments. I will be back here again to read more of your delightful poetry. I look forward to us keeping in touch. Thank you again. 🙂
I love your poems. 🙂 it’s like eating dessert – minus the calories.
Thanks Jessica…wish all desserts were like that!!
Whenever I read another poet’s’ work I look for good narrative and rich word-play, as well as any simple pointer that helps me to understand the poem. Often it’s obvious what a writer intended, if a poem “speaks for itself”. I love your use of words here. Wonderful poem. Well written. You are a talented writer. Thanks for sharing your poetry. 🙂
Thank you John! It’s great to have your input here. I’m glad you like this one and appreciate your vote of confidence in my wordsmithing. Your own poetry’s a powerful brew. I look forward to reading the unique slice of your world.