And then there's Poem-a-Day, just to keep one in mind of all the possible poems there are out there.
Ordinary Grass Grows Where It Must
We all own mowers.
The grass is lowly, struggling always up but
not far, blades bent down by feet and paws
and wheels but standing high enough to cast
a sunrise shadow on its downslope self.
not far, blades bent down by feet and paws
and wheels but standing high enough to cast
a sunrise shadow on its downslope self.
It always comes back,
surges up through sidewalk or churns of mud,
tenacity outsizing its minute green tips.
It feeds a passing cat needing a tonic, or a kid
needing a slice of whistle or chlorophyll juice,
or in some places actual sheep who crop it as
soon as it can stand on its own one foot.
tenacity outsizing its minute green tips.
It feeds a passing cat needing a tonic, or a kid
needing a slice of whistle or chlorophyll juice,
or in some places actual sheep who crop it as
soon as it can stand on its own one foot.
Not to notice is normal,
but grass takes that personally, threatens to
strike, stop growing, but doesn't really mean it.
Do grass a favor and lie down, accept its edge
of itch and its inhabitant insects, the histamine tickle
that has cushioned centuries of outdoor couplings.
strike, stop growing, but doesn't really mean it.
Do grass a favor and lie down, accept its edge
of itch and its inhabitant insects, the histamine tickle
that has cushioned centuries of outdoor couplings.
Submit to the sky,
which is all grass can see save the forest of siblings
surrounding it. The damp skin of the earth is a
platform for viewing the wind at work, and if
it's dry instead, let green go and lie down golden-
grained, brown meeting the granulated ground,
surrounding it. The damp skin of the earth is a
platform for viewing the wind at work, and if
it's dry instead, let green go and lie down golden-
grained, brown meeting the granulated ground,
and grass will weave
a dying nest for you to leave in, but only until
the next rain, the next worming invigoration
that commences its endless sunlit revival.
the next rain, the next worming invigoration
that commences its endless sunlit revival.
instadraft ©HM 2023
**********************************And here's my Poetry Project for National Poetry Month...I'll finally be getting WHISPERshout Magazine up and running. Check it out here! And if you have class or kid or grandkid poems to submit, send them to WHISPERshoutMagazine@gmail.com!
Thanks to Rose at Imagine the Possibilities for hosting us today. Go see everybody else exercising their identities!
There are so many juicy phrases in this poem, Heidi. The slice of whistle (YES), submitting to the sky, and worming invigoration. What a gem (emerald green?) of a poem.
ReplyDeleteSo many ways to love this poem, to love grass. It is relentless in summer. We (meaning my husband) mows nearly every week. I love the invitation to lie in it despite the itch. Such creativity! I look forward to hearing about your trip.
ReplyDeleteThis is wonderful. The bit from "Submit to the sky" through "for you to leave in" totally wows me. Also, I looked at WHISPERshout last week but didn't see a way to leave feedback. I should've emailed. But this looks like a magnificent and big undertaking. It looks fabulous--congratulations!
ReplyDeleteSuch a creative way to think of grass, Heidi. And congratulations and good luck with WHISPERshout Magazine.
ReplyDeleteGrass will never be the same. Love your musings. And, south coast of England!!?? I'm so jealous!!
ReplyDeleteThis is wonderful! It puts me in mind of Joyce Sidman's grass poem in her book Ubiquitous. Thank you for sharing!
ReplyDeleteWow, you do still have it. A poet's identity and more! These words surprised and delighted me:
ReplyDelete"let green go and lie down golden-
grained, brown meeting the granulated ground,"
I rather love that you wrote from England, showing the broad field of grass (and sheep). I hope you did a lie-down yourself, Heidi! There's much to love, and re-read, in your poem, but I lean to my own personal dry, "and if
ReplyDeleteit's dry instead, let green go and lie down golden-
grained, brown meeting the granulated ground,
and grass will weave. . ." We may have rain tonight but it's only a small chance, and it's cold! I choose to celebrate your early green: feeds a passing cat needing a tonic, or a kid
needing a slice of whistle or chlorophyll juice. . ." It's lovely. Happy travels!
The grass POV stanza is my favorite! Thank you for this homage to grass, which has me humming Malvina Reynolds' "God Bless the Grass."
ReplyDeleteWow- you should take a break more often (lol)...I love how you captured grass's POV in "submit to the sky...all that grass can see" -- Safe travels!
ReplyDeleteSo many great lines...slice of whistle, that histamine tickle...such truth in this poem. And, it's just fun to consider the grass and how we should enjoy it despite how common it is.
ReplyDelete"Not to notice is normal" — oh, has a truer line ever been spoken? But you compel us to notice.
ReplyDeleteThere is nothing ordinary about this grass poem with brilliant poetically insightful lines throughout, Heidi. It proves that you really are a mow-it-all. Grass-ias. :)
ReplyDelete