Five Explorations of Earth
I.
Close your eyes.
Can you feel it? Can you feel
the curve
of ground beneath
your feet, the forward arch
of this globe,
rolling
through space,
a ball strung up
by gravity, pivoting
on an eliptical course
around sun?
II.
loam,
I love with the word — exuding
warmth, mineral rich and dark,
a summer soil ready for planting, for ripe new growth,
black with possibility, its soil heavy scent
of expectation — it sounds like home, somewhere
to take root, somewhere to roam
III.
I am a murderer
of plant life, greenery
should flee from me. Trust no ficus
to my care. No violets, no ferns, no gardenias
can hope to survive. I accept
only vegetation that makes few demands, only
the most rugged of survivors. Best leave to me
the sharp and spiked cactus. We
will not be on friendly terms;
there will be no singing, no embraces;
but we may just shape a semi-
hostile coexistence.
IV.
Why are birth and death
so interconnected? The richest of soils
are full of rot, the ruins of old life
fed upon and recycled
by miniscule and wriggling creatures, devourers
of the dead — only in the presence of such
dark gestation can seeds germinate and unfurl,
only in the remnants of the death
can green shoots reach up for the light.
V.
This small pinpoint, this little planet,
this earth, tethered to a central bright star
— not even the central of central stars —
just another star in a multitude of stars,
a multitude of stars swirling into a galaxy,
a spiral galaxy in a multitude of galaxies,
so small, barely a blip in all of creation
(and myself barely a stirring on its surface),
this world, this home is so large and so beautiful.
______________________
Note: This poem was inspired by a prompt offered by newpoet: "earth poetry"
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The Poetry Project
PoetryThe Poetry Project was ongoing from early 2013 through April 30, 2014. It invited readers to submit prompts, which I turned into poems. The prompts were quite varied and let me stretch my skills, like doing calisthenics. The project is over, but th...