Compose.Compose bedsof much-scribbled,eraser-rubbedlined notebook papermixed with soilin your spring garden,food for bulbs.Compostyour failed compositionsrather than rippingballingpitching themin the recycling bin.Let your discarded words,disheveledlike soiled linens,mulch your bedsand witness their blooming.Compose.
The first two lines of this poem are the first line of "Sacred Emily" by Getrude Stein. This is poem eight of 30 for National Poetry Month!
Yes! Love it, need it too. This is a great poem!
ReplyDeleteOh, I love this :) What a wonderful idea. I have enough discarded words to flower this whole city.
ReplyDeleteSuch a clever unravelling of the idea of composing, to composting, it is all good for the soil, good for the soul.
ReplyDeleteThis should be the next stop for those poems that turn out to be real garbage.
ReplyDeleteOh, this is droll. And I love Timo's comment!
ReplyDeleteWe used to liken it to words falling off the cliff to be reorganized later.
ReplyDeleteBut mulching into compost will do too. Maybe the letters to be later reconstructed.
I like it . . .
beautifully expressed... may we all continue to cultivate the poetic gardens of our souls!
ReplyDeleteGirl, this is gorgeous!
ReplyDeleteI shall. I SHALL. Because you know I have a compost bin and lots of off compositions to add to it. ;-)
ReplyDeletewow,thats a first of its kind..sure sounds well.
ReplyDeleteAre you sure about this?
ReplyDeleteWhat colour will the flowers be when fed on our words?
Nie thought.
Right up my green alley, marian. You can't compose without you decompose a little first, I say.
ReplyDeleteReally enjoyed this, Marian... great metaphor!
ReplyDeleteI love this, Marian. Composting the soil with our compositions to find our words spreading like wildflowers.
ReplyDeleteK
The compose/compost/compose is played with skill and wit--but the cleverness is not cloying or overwhelming. The observations are clean and keen; this is good stuff.
ReplyDeletespring spring spring spring!
ReplyDelete