Without a Drought

Prevailing the pesky weeds,
this is poetry at arms:
planting symbolic seeds
in metaphorical farms.

Greeting the soil as a grain,
wishful words buried in thought
remain mixed in rushing rain
wondering what is wrought.

Sprouting with flavor: a flower,
and thus begins its descent
of rhythmic glory and power
and alliterative scent.

Note: I love relating nature with a poet’s attempt to give nature (or the poem itself) significance in this way. I believe there are an infinite amount of possibilities to give meaning to both instances.



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