As you all may remember from a bit ago, I submitted a narrative poem to be considered for publication in an anthology. I posted my first draft HERE - a poem that didn't meet the requirement that it be a narrative poem. I tried again, and submitted another (also titled Silent Garden), in two versions - one a traditional verse form, and the other a concrete.
I got a very nice rejection from them (with a nice little boost for my writer's ego included - the best kind of rejection), today. Since I don't need to worry about the poem being published elsewhere, I'm sharing it with you now. Enjoy, and tell me what you think in the comments!
By the way, my favorite writer-type friend and awesome author submitted a short story that was ACCEPTED! If you'd like to read some examples of her amazing writing, visit her BLOG.
Silent Garden
My
memories go deep, as deep as my roots
Left
undisturbed since the beginning of time itself
They
reach as far into the past as it is possible to go
Nothing
forgotten, even when everything else is lost
A
blessing and a curse
I
remember
Nurturing
soil, newly created
Cradling
me in warmth and moisture
Until
I could break free from the darkness into the light
So
freshly born, tender and green
Surrounded
by others, identical in form if not function
Time
would reveal our differences and our destinies
But
in those early times we reveled in our unity
Sharp
spears of green grew, spread, changed
I
became straight and tall
Spreading
my branches with my roots
Wide
and welcoming
Fruit,
round and ripe, swelling in anticipation
Basking
in the love and joy carried on the wind
The
spirit, carrying a creator’s power
Whispering
of hope and joy to come
I
remember
The
birth of that hope
Whispers
became shouts
Our
purpose, realized
As
feet trod over uneven ground
Blades
of grass bent under unaccustomed weight
First
one, then two
Wandering
freely over hills and through forests
Designed
with them in mind
Each
day new and wonderful
Fruit,
nourishing and freely given
Plucked
from branches hanging low
With
the weight of their treasure
The
function of each blending with form
Except
mine
Of
all the fruit, mine alone remained untouched
Untasted,
unappreciated
I
remember
The
long wait for my turn to serve
Eagerly
anticipating the joy of completion
The
sudden release of weight
As
the jewel dangling from a branch
Is
plucked away
Aware
of the others around me
Often
visited, enjoyed
Given
the purpose I so crave
I
whisper to the wind
Giving
my desire to the spirit as it streams by
Traveling
to the nightly resolution
Of
each green day
Patience,
I am counseled
And
it is patience I practice
Focusing
my energy on
Size,
color, flavor
Appeal
grown into each perfect globe
And
yet I am not chosen
I
remember
Watching
the others, comparing theirs to mine
Unfamiliar
questions crowd close
Where
is the difference
Between
them and me
What
makes my offering less, unwanted, ignored
Unfamiliar
darkness seeps slowly into my core
I
envy the others
Jealous
of every look
Cast
their way instead of mine
The
desire for the touch of soft fingers
Becomes
a lust that bubbles and boils
At
each imagined caress
I
eagerly gather the sunlight and soil,
Selfishly
hoarding resources so freely given
To
perfect the allure of what I offer
And
when that fails
When
that fails, fury burns
Coloring
my leaves with the flame of passion
Blinding
me to the beauty of the garden around me
Shutting
my eyes
I
do not see the glances, do not hear the whispers
Hints
of a change, a choice to be made
I
remember
Trembling
fingers reaching
Eyes
gazing at the temptation of what was denied
My
success, my pride
Never
seeing the fear
Never
hearing the sudden silence of the garden around us
Never
feeling the coil of unfamiliar scales at my feet
Enraptured,
eagerly awaiting
The
bright point of sweet bliss at the plucking of
What
I have so carefully created
My
purpose complete, fulfilled
Teeth
piercing the dark skin
Juices
bursting forth
Only
then does awareness begin to intrude
Questions
that should have been asked
Rush
to look for answers
Doubt
beats against me
The
wings of a bird trapped in branches
Suddenly
clasping too tightly
A
shared taste
A
shared doom
I
remember
The
warm caress of the spirit
Now
turned cold and jagged
Whistling
through trees and grass
Searching
for those we were created for
Calling
out for the hopelessly hidden
Despair
and disappointment in every breath
My
proud height bent under the shame of complicity.
Slow
footsteps shuffle silently away
Our
purpose cast out
Leaving
behind
A
silent garden
And now, the concrete version. I'm posting it as an image, rather than text, because otherwise your browser may turn it into something that looks like SpongeBob Squarepants. And that would be really confusing. And weird. Again, enjoy!
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