All the apples Eve didn’t eat fell and rotted on the ground, leaving brown seeds, lifted by birds, floated on wind or on God's watery wrath downstream and into the dirt until it sprouted everywhere— this thick green sorrow with which we stuff our mouths.
Oooh, I love this poem -- it is whimsical and haunting at the same time. That might be my favorite poetic combo! Here is mine. I couldn't decide whether to break it up into stanzas or not. I went with not for now, but I'm open to feedback!
This is so rich and robust, Rebekah! The title made me smile, having had that carpenter’s song inundate our high school years. Unlike that nice pop song, your poem has a depth that demands several readings. And like Lisa noted, each reading brings something new. The last lines are wonderful: “ We throw open the doors, clear/ all lurkers for takeoff as the circle m/runs home.” I love ❤️ your poetry!
Ditto to what Rebekah said! As a cheese lover, I initially had that hell yeah response, too, but then the twist was such a lovely, complicating surprise.
Oooh, I love this, A. At first, as a cheese lover, I was like "Hell yeah, the meaning of life is cheese!" But I appreciated the unexpected twist -- that life is about opening up for the unsavory, too. "And there is no need to swallow it politely" -- brilliant!
I love ❤️ this A! the last stanza turns the poem in a wonderful way. “Which is to say/life is meant to be devoured/even when we longer have a taste for it/even when we feel fed up with it/and there is no need to swallow it politely”. This is creative genius! Thank you A! 😀
Lisa, this is wonderful! I had never thought about all of those other apples, much less why God would create a tree 🌳 of beautiful fruit and then not allow people to eat from it. Eve has been much maligned by the church all these many years and I like seeing the world through her perspective. Though the apples may be rotting, your poem is quite sweet!
Thank you for that Lisa. Just a note; birds don't eat apple seeds but they do eat the pulp and then poop out the seeds later. There's some chemical in there connected to cyanide. I know it's just a stupid detail but I hope you would do the same for me. That's one of the reasons I publish on substack before putting something in a book, for the criticisms. Wes
I love how your poem holds the question of why we suffer . . . but then turns and holds the suffering (all us suffering humans) instead. How we respond to suffering does seem quite a bit more important to me than the theological explanations we might arrive at for its existence. Thank you for making me think and feel, Larry!
I found the beginning and ending line so intriguing - "I am the dynamics." I really like the contrast of that definitive, declarative line with the weaving, almost floating story and introspection woven between. This is beautiful, Jim!
“On waves of light and water” - lovely, and I love the image of a dance. Life really does feel like a dance in so many ways - a stepping in and then back out, moving forward and away, finding yourself compelled to respond to a rhythm you may not have chosen.
This is very profound and rich, Billy. I love these lines: "Let us recognize that we are in a dance, moving away and then back again/A constant ebb and flow." Beautifully done!
Oooh, I love this poem -- it is whimsical and haunting at the same time. That might be my favorite poetic combo! Here is mine. I couldn't decide whether to break it up into stanzas or not. I went with not for now, but I'm open to feedback!
.
Why Do Birds Suddenly Appear?
.
They are born in the hidden copses
of my home and yours – under dressers,
between cushions – seeding as summer
splits its seams and we lose our pep.
The dog days plump up pillows
of dust and fur for their wee heads
until the first gasp of fall, when we
become suddenly too busy to clean
a thing. They hold their breaths
all winter but are quite safe by then,
couch and mug having
claimed us, snow slowing
every pulse. It is not until March,
when the ancestors begin flashing
their little flags from the treetops,
that our eyes clear and the broom
comes out. By then they are
winged and itchy.
We throw open the doors, clear
all lurkers for takeoff as the circle
runs home.
The imagery in this is so rich! I read it twice and feel like I could keep rereading and find something new every time.
I love the sound of this and the imagery of seeding and splitting seams and plumping pillows and the first gasp of fall, and...well, all of it.
This is so rich and robust, Rebekah! The title made me smile, having had that carpenter’s song inundate our high school years. Unlike that nice pop song, your poem has a depth that demands several readings. And like Lisa noted, each reading brings something new. The last lines are wonderful: “ We throw open the doors, clear/ all lurkers for takeoff as the circle m/runs home.” I love ❤️ your poetry!
I'm not actually sure how much sense this makes, but you said "wrong answers" so, here it is 😅
.
The meaning of life is cheese
.
the melt-in-your-mouth kind
that you want to spread on everything;
the kind that oozes
from every nook and cranny;
the kind you want to savour,
even when it's a little sharp -
or, perhaps, because it is;
.
which is to say:
life is meant to be devoured,
even when we no longer have a taste for it,
even when we feel fed up with it;
and there is no need to swallow it politely.
Ditto to what Rebekah said! As a cheese lover, I initially had that hell yeah response, too, but then the twist was such a lovely, complicating surprise.
Oooh, I love this, A. At first, as a cheese lover, I was like "Hell yeah, the meaning of life is cheese!" But I appreciated the unexpected twist -- that life is about opening up for the unsavory, too. "And there is no need to swallow it politely" -- brilliant!
I love ❤️ this A! the last stanza turns the poem in a wonderful way. “Which is to say/life is meant to be devoured/even when we longer have a taste for it/even when we feel fed up with it/and there is no need to swallow it politely”. This is creative genius! Thank you A! 😀
All the apples Eve didn’t eat - what a fabulous thought!
Thank you, Thomas!
My pleasure - “a thing of beauty is a joy forever!”
Lisa, this is wonderful! I had never thought about all of those other apples, much less why God would create a tree 🌳 of beautiful fruit and then not allow people to eat from it. Eve has been much maligned by the church all these many years and I like seeing the world through her perspective. Though the apples may be rotting, your poem is quite sweet!
Thank you so much, friend!
My pleasure Lisa!
Thank you for that Lisa. Just a note; birds don't eat apple seeds but they do eat the pulp and then poop out the seeds later. There's some chemical in there connected to cyanide. I know it's just a stupid detail but I hope you would do the same for me. That's one of the reasons I publish on substack before putting something in a book, for the criticisms. Wes
I love knowing details like that and really appreciate it - thank you, Wes!
It is only because I admire your poetry that I said what I said. I hope you can do me the same honor.
I absolutely will if I ever spot anything like that!
Since this question haunts me and is often asked of me, it seemed like a good starting point.
Why Do We Suffer…
^
Suffering is an elusive phenomenon.
It’s causes, the reasons, the why, the hows?
Some blame God;
Other say it is God’s punishment,
Or God’s will.
Or the results of unjust and inequitable systems;
Or power, greed, oppression, domination,
Or collateral damage
of the wars we rage on each other
and the earth.
Some just say we are inherently evil,
powerless to change unless
we follow this or that playbook.
It has even been spoken
“we have brought it on ourselves.”
^
Hmmm.
^
Perhaps suffering just is.
In the midst of it we are called
To cast aside dogma and doctrine,
myth and harmful legend,
societal constructs and
destructive practices that
bring us to the edge.
To move beyond barriers
and simply love,
out of that love
to witness to peace,
stand for justice,
call for equity
and hold our open hands
to receive one more broken heart
Into ours.
I love how your poem holds the question of why we suffer . . . but then turns and holds the suffering (all us suffering humans) instead. How we respond to suffering does seem quite a bit more important to me than the theological explanations we might arrive at for its existence. Thank you for making me think and feel, Larry!
Thank you for such a kind note, Lisa. Your capacity for bringing affirmation and light to every space is remarkable!
Thank you Lisa for sharing. May not be an answer, but let me share this post I recently wrote on these very human questions.
https://open.substack.com/pub/cieloceano/p/embracing-mystery?r=4oulbo&utm_medium=ios
Why we suffer?
I am the Dynamics
Looking back at my thirties
When love and lust
Were very transient
The dreams of the sixties
Had effervesced away
Shown to be only fragile icons
Of ideals and hopes not to be.
We gypsied from one relationship to another
Thirsting for moments of relief
Wrapping In each other’s arms
Palliatives for our failed marriages and dreams
From the destruction of how
We thought our lives would be.
We created chaotic moments of searing emotions
That ran all directions into time
Woven into tapestries of ersatz
Expectations and beliefs, moments
To be forgotten and then remembered again
How sublime.
From those moments we will
Always have each other
Engrams that slowly changed
Some sweet moving to sweeter
Others sad evolving to bittersweet
A few that still pierce and bleed
Only pinpoints on our minds.
There was a time we
Meaning You and me when
Sometimes we walked hand in hand
Walking down continuous streets
As if dazed by escapist poppies
Not often fearing
We did not know to fear
Not often thinking
We did not know to think
We buffered each other
From some exterior pains and fears
Or so we thought.
The eight corners of our existence
Squeezed and undulated
Encroaching on our souls
We fought, we hurt each other, we parted
What we thought was love
Took a heavy toll.
The blessing is comparing to now
Realizing while walking the labyrinth
The landscape is mostly static
It is my walking the path
Where I see, I am the dynamics.
I found the beginning and ending line so intriguing - "I am the dynamics." I really like the contrast of that definitive, declarative line with the weaving, almost floating story and introspection woven between. This is beautiful, Jim!
“On waves of light and water” - lovely, and I love the image of a dance. Life really does feel like a dance in so many ways - a stepping in and then back out, moving forward and away, finding yourself compelled to respond to a rhythm you may not have chosen.
Only Paradoxes if one believes in a “good” god or a god at all.
This is very profound and rich, Billy. I love these lines: "Let us recognize that we are in a dance, moving away and then back again/A constant ebb and flow." Beautifully done!
My pleasure Billy
who knows
I think god let us steer a little bit
Gives me a great image of a little human sitting on big God’s lap, holding the wheel.