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For My Grandmother
This lovely flower fell to seed;
Work gently, sun and rain;
She held it as her dying creed
That she would grow again.
Poemas sobre el tema: rebirth
Poemas sobre el tema «rebirth» en Poets.by.
Caveman
You see the ice overgrown.
Shivering from being near.
Cracks run through the ice.
Fearfully you reach out for it.
Only to see it melt at your touch.
Underneath a life preserved for millennia is uncovered.
Just as the new life is reborn you run away as soon as it looked into your eyes.
Scared the new life hides once more within the ice.
In Hardwood Groves
The same leaves over and over again!
They fall from giving shade above
To make one texture of faded brown
And fit the earth like a leather glove.
Before the leaves can mount again
To fill the trees with another shade,
They must go down past things coming up,
They must go down into the dark decayed.
They must be pierced by flowers and put
Beneath the feet of dancing flowers.
However it is in some other world
I know that this is the way in ours.
Letter from Prison
My dear friend!
This letter for you
I’ve written down
here in this green jail
Where my word smells like grass.
And my dreams are getting wet in the rain.
Here, where the life and death
have no demarcation line.
Here, where the grass, the rain and flowers
die in front of your eyes
and are born again into a day
as if by magic.
Snow Geese
When geese venture forth
they have an innate sense of direction.
Soft wings straddle stars
stroking snow flaked skies with certainty.
There is a heartbeat
coursing the air with life, a determination
to survive, to reach
the sun, to shrug off winter's baleful eye.
That is why they scythe
moon slivered nights with screams, leaving
black northern skies,
and crystal lakes, for rum soaked seas.
In spring, a beckoning
beneath the skin, to answer the call
of the great white north
the instinct to return, to be reborn.
E.S.
You inevitable,
Unwieldy with enormous births,
Lying on your back, eyes open, sucking down stars,
Or you kissing and picking over fresh deaths...
Filth... worms... flowers...
Green and succulent pods...
Tremulous gestation
Of dark water germinal with lilies...
All in you from the beginning...
Nothing buried or thrown away...
Only the moon like a white sheet
Spread over the dead you carry.
Birth Night
This fireglow is a red womb
In the night, where you're folded up
On your doom.
And the ugly, brutal years
Are dissolving out of you,
And the stagnant tears.
I the great vein that leads
From the night to the source of you,
Which the sweet blood feeds.
New phase in the germ of you;
New sunny streams of blood
Washing you through.
You are born again of me.
I, Adam, from the veins of me
The Eve that is to be.
What has been long ago
Loam
In the loam we sleep,
In the cool moist loam,
To the lull of years that pass
And the break of stars.
From the loam, then.
The soft warm loam.
We rise:
To shape of rose leaf,
Of face and shoulder.
We stand, then.
To a whiff of life.
Lifted to the silver of the sun
Over and out of the loam
A day.