INFANT SEED - a 2013 poem

This was an interesting experiment I did, using the analogy of a plant growing from a seed representing a child growing in the womb. There are two versions of the poem, one in which the infant grows up to be a 'man' and one in which it grows up to be a 'woman'. Personally, my favorite is the latter, so I will share the poem as such.

INFANT SEED

I

beyond in the belly sleeping
and it breathes and feels vibration
in its sack of sugars seeping
drinks up its simple elation
for it to grow from infant seed
one day a bud, in this garden
and from a bud one day a weed
but with the sugar sap it drinks
from the caretaker's water can
it will sustain before it sinks
and as it lives will be a woman.

II

from the soil breaks free a bud
to peak its head up for the sun
it crawls forward and slides through mud
waters fall and waters will run
for the bud to breathe and to cry
rains will spread to nourish with drops
but droughts last long, she will get dry
in times when seems her vigor stops
in those times the bud will still grow
nourished by sugar in her tears
she will hurt and will feel sorrow
and she will fight and face her fears.

III

Time will pass, bud blossoms to weed.
lips suckled-mother's milk was sweet
she drank up sugar, pleased to feed
to stay long tugging at the teat
before she blossomed to pull away
from caretaker's water can spout.
replenished from the sun's ray
she stands and grows even without
caretaker's hand and mother's breast
here she sprouts from bud to blossom
she'll break through mud to face life's tests
from that same garden we all come.

* * *
-Bry

Dark Clouds - A 2013 Poem

It's been a long time since I've written a poem and this was the last one that I wrote, back two years ago, after a lot of bad storms. It is an overly dramatic piece and that was the purpose of it. In modern terms it would be called 'emo'. It is emo, indeed.

BLACK CLOUDS

The grass against my back is cold.
The forms in the sky curl and flow.
Just me alone, no hand to hold-
And the vapors turn gray and grow-
To be black mist and cover all.
I feel a pebble hit my cheek.
Not the kiss of raindrops fall-
A landslide come to stone the weak.

Buried alive, buried alone.
I feel the rubble pummel hard.
See firelights, hear wind gusts blown.
I’m laid to sleep in the long yard.
No love will wake me from my bed-
My body now burnt, spirit’s torn.
Tonight the lightning struck me dead...
and no lady dearest will mourn.

* * *

-Bry