In the April of Covid 19
Day 22
“Fair seed-time had my soul, and I grew upFoster'd alike by beauty and by fear”
William Wordsworth
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| The Wild Wood Tarot The Sun of Life Image Source with Reading |
Seed
When as a child
I discovered
my little claypot heart
rich with barren soil
I burrowed a finger deep within
and planted a secret seed
left to grow
through the lonely years
and flower unseen
with an ache
beneath my breastbone
a pain to be buried
as compost
to the rootbound
trust I had placed in my life
that one day I would
see the sun.
Skylover Wordlist: Seed
Play It Again Toads: Poets of April (William Wordsworth)
Inspired by The Wild Wood Tarot by Mark Ryan and John Matthews, with art by Will Worthington.
oh, this is duplicitous, this poem - it seems to read easily as something so beautiful and innocent, and yet it speaks with an incredible longing, of the pain of secret darkness - and the idea of a little claypot heart .... oh! these are such rich and intricately woven words in your poem Kerry - it's sustaining, for the images, and somehow, tender too - as if, as an adult, we want to reach out and in and nurture a seed - of Love, to replace the bruise, or heaviness.
ReplyDeleteFascinating poem - I really like it. Repeated readings and I both break my heart for it and yet grow a quiet determination and resilience. Cheers!
Thank you, Pat. I was uncertain how to approach the 'seed' idea without being too obvious. Then the opening line popped into my head, and I elaborated on it in the next couple of lines. I love your reading, as always! It really helps for me to get such positive feedback which reinforces the idea I was trying to convey. Thank you!
DeleteThis is incredibly moving, Kerry!🌳💘 I especially love the image; "I burrowed a finger deep within and planted a secret seed left to grow." The beauty and strength of your poetic soul shines through in this poem.
ReplyDeleteThat is so kind of you to say, Sanaa. Thank you.
DeleteThis opens with one of the most effective metaphors ever for our living souls, and never falters. Sad and infinitely lonely, yet also, full of an unquenchable bravery and the defiance that has run through so many of your recent poems. We all live in the hope that someday our lives will see the sun, that the secret seed will be a part of the larger world and be treasured for the beauty and nourishment it brings. A very effective quote and image to accompany it as well. You have found so much inspiration in your wordlist, beyond what most prompts are ever able to do. April with all its other upheavals and tragedies, has been good to us in this; to bring us these poems.
ReplyDeleteI am so happy to know the opening image works. I was hesitant about the child aspect in those lines but then decided it could work to convey the innocence and perception of how our lives will be when we are young, as opposed to how everything turns out.
DeleteI have been very inspired by Dylan Thomas, and today by William Wordsworth, and in all April has been most forgiving in terms of my poetry.
Thank you, Joy.
That little claypot heart and the buried seed - what a wonderful metaphor for sad children who somehow manage to grow up and bloom. This really speaks to me, Kerry. So courageous a journey.
ReplyDeleteI am so glad it resonates with you, Sherry. Thank you.
DeleteAnd that trust, that sunny believe... is what keeps the soul going (and growing, too).
ReplyDeleteFor sure!
DeleteThis makes me think of my childhood. I had a tiny seed of trust I would survive in sunlight and moon. Your poem brings me to tears.
ReplyDeleteAnd you did survive, Susie. And you shine in golden light.
DeleteA fascinating and evocative poem. I too was a child who kept a tiny seed alive and nurtured it secretly and stubbornly. And how right we were, who did that.
ReplyDeleteYes, I believe so too.
DeleteThis is more Blake than Wordsworth, Kerry! I love the narrative, so personal and yet so universal, the ‘little claypot heart / rich with barren soil’ just waiting for someone to plant a seed in it. A beautiful extended metaphor, with stunning imagery and language.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Kim. I am beholden to all the greatest of poets, without whom my own words would have faltered a long time ago.
DeleteA little claypot seed....and somehow I see a little pudgy child's finger pushing the seed down into the dirt.....
ReplyDeletecould it be love that is achingly inside in lonely years....a child who grows older and does not feel love and then that hope and that yearning are finally buried? There is so much here and each time I read it a new layer appears. Your writing always carries such depth.
Enjoyed the complexity of this ... I could also sense the girl as woman giving birth to new life.
ReplyDelete