They cut the grove -
My garden of Gethsemane
where I planted my apple trees,
And watched them grow.
I can still see them reaching out
From severed stumps;
They strain then slump.
Like hands - their trunks, fingers – their sprouts.
I watched them die,
Wither like flowers and decay;
Bursting in the heat of the day -
the apples of my eye.
An eye for an eye
Leaves the whole world blind
and so I was told,
To grow oranges next time.
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3 comments:
I think the 2nd verse challanges the overall flow of the poem, but it comes back really well. You've heard what I think about this one already, but I reiterate. I like how it doesn't-but-kinda-does rhyme, most of all.
I'm also loving how you end it. Through all rhyme and reason, I like this one! Good work!
Actually that was intentional. The meter for the first line goes 4-8-8-4, and for the second line it goes 8-4-4-8. If the poem were longer it would alternate between those two patterns for a bit before i eventually petered off into the conclusion, and you'll see in the third stanza it goes 4-8-8 and then 6 for no bloody reason... O_o
OOH, well that makes a lot more sense then. That's why I couldn't figure it out, but liked it anyway. 4-8-8-6. It's a good conclusion bit.
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