Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Before I forget: my radish poem 

Several weeks ago, sol in her journal asked her readers to write a poem about radishes, with extra points for mention of turnips and field mice. I'm horribly out of practice, not having written any poetry in nearly a year, but I finally came up with something. Here goes:


Too weary
To shake my fist angrily at the sky,
I mutter my protests,
Knowing they change nothing.
My fate is a bitter radish
Which I must choke down with a smile.
How ironic to reside on a barren plantation
And have to compete with aggressive field mice
For a single withered turnip.
But there is no one else to do it.
All the mighty men have been felled.
I must not match
The unspoken fear in the eyes of the weak
Nor succumb to their paralyzing contagion.
For red earth flows through my veins,
And as long as I am upright,
I will find a way to blossom,
No matter how slowed my shuffle.


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