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Of Seeds and Leaves
by Amie GoldaThe printed page
Taunts me, haunts me
With its smell so vibrant--
Fresh as the trees they were cut from,
Which incidentally lived a long life
And paid their due respects by
immortalizing he who planted them;
But now they shall immortalize
the planter of words, whoever he may be,
on this printed page and give life,
as life was once giv'n them---
to the reader, the seduced.
And that soul shall ever bear the mark of
man and trees and someday forge his own story
before laying on the ground
to give what trees and man once gave him--
a story, some magic, some life--
all through the power the printed page and the seeds they began from. 02/12/2010 Author's Note: Someone give me a book--quick!
Before I go mad...and I'm starting to already as you can probably tell from this crappy poem.
Posted on 02/12/2010
Copyright © 2024 Amie Golda
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Olivia Martin on 02/12/10 at 03:14 PM Well, I must say, madness treats you well, Amie. I adore this poem. Words make certain things (and perhaps people) immortal in a way that aged trees often do -- for a few hundred years at least. Great job!
However, if you're still stir crazy, I've recently become obsessed with Jodi Picoult's work. ;) |
| Posted by Therese Elaine on 02/12/10 at 04:46 PM Amie, I've never read a single poem of yours that could even remotely be called 'crappy' -but in the interests of helping a fellow bibliophile out, you may have access to one of the many selections in the 40 boxes of books scattered throughout my apartment...not counting the "strategically and hopefully artistically placed stacks" that you can find on nearly every available surface! |
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