Blade of Grass
Razor’s edge grown from rich soil.
Raindrops turn to glistening foil.
Green with life-filled chlorophyll.
Sun kissed, thirsty, yards to fill.
Reaching upward, hope unbound.
Disappointed, fixed to ground.
Field of sport for youth to trot
Canine outdoor resting spot
Cut to fit a standard size.
Groomed to please shrewd human eyes.
Parasitic weeds outgrow.
Insects nesting, friends and foes.
Browning under scorching sun.
Soon its short lifecycle’s run.
Threat of death persists, alas.
For each cursed blade of grass.
But its legacy lives on.
A better world it leaves when gone.
Though we may not understand.
If we look, we’ll see God‘s hand.
the backyard of its Architect.
This poem was written as a sort of "still life" in response to the writing prompt: "Write a poem that describes an object. Be as literal as possible." You know you're a poet when you can't just write about a blade of grass, but it becomes a metaphor for our spiritual journey and mortality. To me, why write unless I get dive into deep waters and explore the mystical world under the surface?
What about you? What is a simple object that evokes a deeper meaning to you?
Want more? Listen to me reading my poetry on Instagram at Instagram.com/sonyakayblake
Comments
Post a Comment