Array ( [sid] => 181104 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Toil [time] => 2015-05-09 02:04:18 [hometext] => A tribute to Seamus Heaney [bodytext] => Seeking buried secrets, I lie
Prone, becoming one with the ground;
Plough,
Hand over hand, tearing roots and stones
From earthly homes, unbound.

Scoops of sodden earth smack against
My grasping palms,
Sieved between fingers
Into equal parts.

Fragrant growth the goal of labored
Toil: days, months
Hunched in beds and
Aching rows of ancient soil.

Cultivating rain seeps
As it always has
Deeper and deeper,
Creeping to startle
Life into waiting vessels
Of sown potential.

Burst from below,
Drinking the sun as I do,
Sprawled into unconscious bliss,
I lie prone,
Having become one with the ground. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 196 [topic] => 27 [informant] => Wordsmith123 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => NaturePoetry ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Toil


Toil
Date: Saturday, 9th May 2015 @ 02:04:18 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: Wordsmith123
Seeking buried secrets, I lie
Prone, becoming one with the ground;
Plough,
Hand over hand, tearing roots and stones
From earthly homes, unbound.

Scoops of sodden earth smack against
My grasping palms,
Sieved between fingers
Into equal parts.

Fragrant growth the goal of labored
Toil: days, months
Hunched in beds and
Aching rows of ancient soil.

Cultivating rain seeps
As it always has
Deeper and deeper,
Creeping to startle
Life into waiting vessels
Of sown potential.

Burst from below,
Drinking the sun as I do,
Sprawled into unconscious bliss,
I lie prone,
Having become one with the ground.

This poem is Copyright © Wordsmith123


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