How my Garden Grows
For the Harvest of Memories Challenge
I surrender
Body interred in a
Dry bed of earth
Layers of fertilizing ash
Splattering black
Tears pour down
Splashing across the
Barren expanse of my flesh
Destructive hydration
Raising hairs and spilling guts
Extended mourning moans
Overwhelming streams
Flooding surface ruts
Fragments swirling
Innumerable moments
Suspended
Slowly sinking in
Grieving a life long lamented
Coated eyes swarm with
Distracting debris
Draining in the light of day
Soggy mud firms to dry land
Deep furrows plowed
Into well-watered flesh
Though long devoid of tending
Each storm of recollections
Fertilizes and renews
Past experience rediscovered
Seeds fall, tightly encased
Waxy hulls, green, and pliant
Flowers and weeds alike
Sprinkle down like spring showers
Inaccessible without coaxing
No differentiating until they’ve bloomed
Nurturing each unseen sprout
Bushels of memories shooting out
Once realized, I pull every gnarly choking weed
Each more intrusive than the last
Thorns and poison poke and curse
Leaving sun-ripened berries
A joyful harvest of juicy morsels
Nostalgic comfort ready to consume
K.B. Silver
About the Creator
K.B. Silver
K.B. Silver has poems published in magazine Wishbone Words, and lit journals: Sheepshead Review, New Note Poetry, Twisted Vine, Avant Appa[achia, Plants and Poetry, recordings in Stanza Cannon, and pieces in Wingless Dreamer anthologies.
Keep reading
More stories from K.B. Silver and writers in Poets and other communities.
CH 11~ Model Citizen
Francine’s fingers lingered on the stiff, ruffled shirt and leather holster, folded neatly and set aside on the top shelf of her wardrobe; she was starting to grow impatient, waiting for Azure’s return and the resumption of her lessons. Instead, she carefully dressed again in the stylized costume Gramma Arsenault had brought so they could finish the advertisement she was sitting for and be free of the task for the week.
By K.B. Silver Exclusive • 2 months ago
Comments (2)
Skillfully written and completely visceral. Not one line is exempt. Great challenge entry, but even better life expression.
"Bushels of memories shooting out" That was my favourite line. Loved your beautiful poem!