Monday, February 26, 2007

Poet Tree

A poet skips the plot.
Not for her the old growth
in a long tale's trunk
where bole thickens month by month
into the novel's knotted gnarl.
She touches tongue
directly to the flesh,
of succulent semantic fruit.
She cracks a shell -
where kernels waft
essential image oil.
Let others scale
the branching storied limbs
to prune their trees
and leaf by leaf make symmetry.

9 comments:

Inconsequential said...

advocating the poets brevity.
'tis good piece.

ish said...
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ish said...

You write some plotted poems inc., but still brief. I think what poets mostly like is 'cut to the chase'. There of course epics, sagas and verse novels.

Inconsequential said...

Hmmm, don't think i've tried a 'saga' yet... heroic travels and travails...

*wanders off pondering...*

Mike Mc said...

I like this a lot, gives me something to ponder in my own efforts.

ish said...

My word, start an saga inc. You can serialize it for us. You seem to do well with continuities.

And thank you Mike.

missmellifluous said...

I know you seem to like a neatly pruned poem, a kind of symmetrical topiary, but do you ever think a wild ambling thicket appealing?

missmellifluous said...

Perhaps it's more like bonsai vs wild old oaks...is there ever a place for a grand old tree, whose branches reach this way and that?

ish said...

...is there ever a place for a grand old tree, whose branches reach this way and that?

Oh yeah. I would take the wild over the manicured any day. But for the sheer scale of it I think a 'grand old tree' is more like a novel than a poem.