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I sauntered into this Hopkins poem and it reminded me of my poem "the Seedling)
So I've added this Hopkins extract and re-incarnated my green friend.


"...What would the world be, once bereft
Of wet and wildness? Let them be left,
O let them be left, wildness and wet;
Long live the weeds and the wilderness yet."

Gerard Manley Hopkins (Inversnaid)
(http://www.theotherpages.org/poems/hopkins1.html)



The Seedling

Sitting; by the western window
feeling for warm Sun
I turn my cheek and net the light
through parted curtains come.
Late noon-beams seek me it seems
through air and window-pane
though on my own I’m not alone!
...a plant joins in the game.
Turning; umbrella leaves
illuminate with glee
unfolding images within,
invert the Eye of me.

“I chase the light like you, friend,
we’re Siblings in the Sun,
come listen to an ol’time-rhyme of
how my kingdom come;
journey back in time with me
till cold and dark are One,
journey beneath the sand and clay with me:
Our Father’s Son!”

Dark; so dark and lonely-cold
I lie the winter through:
“Is this the destiny for me?”
I cry to who knows who?
I, among the sandy clay
so near to all I need
yet dormant in nourishment ‘til
the distant myst’s Bleed!
Lost; in earthy Mother’s womb
I swell in moistened soil
through mud past rocks I strive and
twist and fight and toil
striving ever striving
sensing “All” instinctively
from unseen realms pangs of light
excite and beckon me
sucking ever sucking, sinking
deep in mother’s breast
diving ever rising
never-never stop to rest
warmer, ever warmer
ever lighter-brighter-be
as I conquer fear of darkness
inate power erupts from me!
...Bursting..! through the emerald crust
I’m drenched in Blue and Gold
sprouting 'neath a younger Sun
this freedom-day! .......of old?

Sitting; by the western window
soaking light-warm rays:
is my genetic past
projecting here today?
Are you, you leafy friend,
puting on this show?
or is my DNA record
down-loading all I know?

I’ll chase that Light with you
silent seeker of the Sun;
now or then? yours or mine?
…our Questaeon; … is One...

MatbbgJ

Sublime, beautiful.

Thanks mat.

Peace,

Bernard

Hi Matj.
I think; your poem is full of silliness.
I'm sorry; I don't know if you intended this or not.

blame the plant.

Ohhhhh
I thought it was just an umbrella tree, but it's one of thoooooose plants.

I thought it was just an umbrella tree,

It was
and still is.
But "just" , in this case, demeans my sibling in the sun.

How many umbrella plants have you met and talked/listened to?
Not any I suspect.
Scientific pride
comes before the fall.

"...and wasn't it a long way down"

Mat,
Should this not be on the Crap poems thread?

God bless,
William

mat james wrote:

I thought it was just an umbrella tree,

It was
and still is.
But "just" , in this case, demeans my sibling in the sun.

How many umbrella plants have you met and talked/listened to?
Not any I suspect.
Scientific pride
comes before the fall.

"...and wasn't it a long way down"

Well, for your information, Mr. Poke Poke Poke, my newest bonsai is a schefflera, which in case you don't know is an umbrella tree. My usage of "just" was obviously to amplify the difference between an umbrella tree and, say, a peyote cactus. I've never heard anyone tell interesting stories after ingesting (or smoking, or making a compress with, or making an extract, drying and snorting) an umbrella tree.

Unfortunately, the schefflera I was sent was not the one they pictured on their website (which was nicely trained), so now I am retraining it. I repotted it, defoliated it, and wired one branch because it was cross, and another to simulate weight. It is now covered with buds (too many, in fact, I ought to bud prune some of the lower ones a bit, maybe not until next year; it'll need the extra photosynthesis asap). Next year, I am going to air layer it, maybe with a rock, followed by a trunk chop, after which I'll have two scheffleras. But I'll probably give one to my friend Maki. I talk to it all the time, but I've never heard it talk back. Instead, it mostly tries to stay alive in spite of my abuse. Maybe it would talk to me if get some peyote.

Hi Manna,

I talk to it all the time, but I've never heard it talk back. Instead, it mostly tries to stay alive in spite of my abuse. Maybe it would talk to me if get some peyote.

It's not about talking.
It's about.......... listening....
they whisper at strange times
It's an inside job.

Peyote may hepl... pelh...help.
(more your little bonsai, than you)
Ask Carlos' don juan. But he will say it is all "folly".
Yet, one must always choose their own folly.

Good luck with your torture of my tiny sibling.
(poor little thing)

Matj

I have re-formatted the poem above and changed some lines and the title.
The guts is still the same. (a plant telling me her story)
I added the Hopkins quote as my reading of "Inversnaid" re-invigorated my interest (feelings) in my green mentor, "The Seedling".

MatbbgJ