I. Introduction
Oh, blades of earth grass,
shall I bury you in yet another mountain of words?
Meaningless, tired, boring words
to add to the mountains you've already received?
How about a thousand words
eliciting false smiles from your blasé moods,
squeezing happy overused utterances
from your dour moss-covered countenances?
Words
that burst like uninvited guests
through the front door of our beings
and sink heavily into the sofa of our existence,
sucking in the room's fresh air,
eating all the chips,
and leaving an exhaled stench behind...
 words, the uninvited guest... |
II. Friendship
Oh blades of softly whispering grasses,
Shall I peer past you into the greater beyonds
in search of a deeper meanings in life?
 peering into the great beyond... |
Should I trample upon you, blades,
as I pursue my ambitions,
grasping for more than what you have to offer?
...knowing you will bounce back uncomplaining,
like a good friend,
understanding, tolerating, admiring me,
while I take you for granted,
resting on knowing that you will be there tomorrow?
 trampling and taking for granted... |
Shall I stay for tea,
and call you ‘thee’,
and place you into a body of pretty poetry?
for all to see with innocent eyes to hear soft whispers born in spring when the earth-bound scents arise to offer health and peace within... blades of grass in pretty poetry rustle in your waving seas reach your fingers to the sky place all your hopes in me... |  |
III. Bonding
Oh, blades of earth grass,
Give me a sign!
Do not let us part
on this unresolved sour note,
for when my search for vain glory is at an end
I will return with wound and ailment
and look to you for healing and solace;
if not from you, then your seedlings
who inherit, possess, and carry on your spirit,
for it is a spirit that I have come to know and love...
| a world of existence in womb of dirt land-dwelling stalked creations of life sprout from mud and clay vertical entities quarrelling with the scenery knowing of the cosmos and heavens beyond my thought… |  |
I miss you already, oh earthly blades,
and I haven’t even left yet.
Shall I take you with me?
Can I make you mine?
| can I replace you with a likeness, an image of this natural world sifted through dirty fingers, dug from a silent, eloquent ecosystem that I endeavor to comprehend and converse with, and only enjoying limited success… |  |
| shall I leave with only the insignificant expressions of a renewed adolescence raw and green, the dry sage of sophistication burning away in cleansing flames that prepare a fertile foundation for the coming into being all that arrives with the heavy rains of life unceasingly beating against the scorched earth of time… |   |
IV. Desires
Oh, blades, did I tell you that you remind me of someone,
someone who enjoyed my company,
someone who received my purest love.
time… distance… uncertainty... fear...
an unreachable star she seems now…
You, blades, should understand 'unreachable'
as you peer across the lawn at the blades of your desires
while you are fated to sway in the wind, immovably rooted where you are,
not able to reach your heart's destiny,
lamenting to us that sad song of sorrow in your softly rustling waves…
| If I had gently plucked her from the earth and placed her in my pocket, She would have died, just like you would have died in time, blades, uprooted. Perhaps if I take soil and replant her, she will survived… |  |
See, around you, blades,
I am imbued with your plant wisdom!
Well, I cannot stay here and steal your wisdom forever, blades.
I must go and interact with the other humans, for I am one,
and that is the world I must survive in.
Off, then, I am, to compete in their world…
Do not look so uneasy, oh blade.
Yes, I am looking at you as we part,
but I am not judging you.
I drink of you in this fleeting moment allotted to us…
| Off on a voyage, an expedition, a journey of exploration, a quest for some semblance of meaning outside the geographies of your herbivorous kingdom. That world is a masquerade, while veiled beneath are the moods and feelings born of hours mingling within the environs of your habitat… |  |
| soon perceptions, buried in small sloping knolls of your scenic countryside, arrive home, cloaked in the terra firma, speaking of the primordial sludge contrasting with the glossy thoughts that roam about your terrestrial surroundings… |  |
V. Revolution
Blades of earth grass! I return… and what is this?
You are three-feet high!
Oh, long-haired blades of hippiedom!
A cultural revolutionary now,
standing tall in the midst of a field of revolutionaries!
wild, long-haired revolutionary blades...
Oh, blades, and thy comrades!
What counter-culture statements do you speak?
Letting your stalks grow free…
Gone, the well-manicured lawns
as you fling them into the abyss of their superficial plastic societies,
gone the human control…
What?
is that you I hear screaming, blades?
What is it, blades?
Weeds?
Weeds!
Weeds! Yes, they are a part of this counter-culture,
you will find many wild varieties here.
How they do tend to take over,
and how they strangle you…
Oh blades, how fragile you are!
| A birth of organic dreams alight on an alien panorama land-dwelling denizens disembark into a realm of visions the spheres of your wild environs are all consumed all are destroyed in the path of their unabated comsumption… |  gone the human control... |
OK, blades. I will call in lawn service.
In the meantime, I will temporarily replant you.
Here. A pot. Some soil.
Is being with me less free, oh blades?
lawn service to the rescue...
VI. Nightmare
| In the night I converse with you, oh blades, and the resulting inarticulate mumblings settle in transient impressions collected from your nocturnal landscape, inhabiting uneasy hallucinations dangling from flora haunted by dispirited fauna… Oh, blades, what are in your nightmares? |  |
VII. Passage
I grow old, oh blades of earth grass.
I see you grow old, too, and brittle, getting a little less green there…
a bit thin, and yellowing, kind of droopy...
OK, OK, I will not rub it in,
for I have many wrinkles that you yourself could dwell on...
Shall we pass this life together then, oh earthly blades,
clinging to one another to the last possible moment together,
sharing comfort and understanding?
| Destinies intertwined Blades of earth Man of universe |  |
Or is it vice-versa? I don’t know.
There is much yet to be known,
much yet to be celebrated beyond our time…
A last drink to thee then, oh blades!
(and thy brethren, too!!!)
Such a life we’ve had…
It is over…
We are gone now,
oh blades…
to make room for others...
others...
VIII. Epitoma:
| this exploration, this voyage, this journey, this expedition a discovery, a realization... grasping for images of a likeness a semblance impressed on thoughts and notions reflecting concepts and perceptions mirrored on a cosmic lake where a single golden blade falling from heaven lands to float and twirl in the radiant sun… below, a world of creation and life strewn in randomness formations and foundations of being an existence above the ground dirt and terrain of a land arguing the close environs of mud and clay against the sweeping vistas of scenic views … |  a close environ arguing with a scenic vista... |
| lost in the terra firma of this terrestrial globe imagination caught for a naïve moment the knowing land-dwelling settlements alight and disembark, arriving home in a kingdom of visions twisted in the realm of tiny quarrelsome abodes swaying upright in the countryside… |  swaying upright in the countryside... |
| disguised within the surroundings situated centrally amid a natural world ecosystem mired in sludge born of the heavy rains of creation seizing insignificant insights and thoughts plowed into meaningless expressions once thought perceptive and eloquent now transformed into an adolescence, raw and green, while sophistication curls and crumbles in flames that burn within the habitat of dream-filled spheres… |  |
| dwelling in a hallucination within your panoramic scenes of alien geography and masquerading while within a veil of hidden moods and feelings remain cloaked in the crude biological birth of your organic speech that I have uttered with you oh blades. |  organic speech... |
IX. Secundum:
| scenes of alien nightmares settled in transient impressions collected from your landscape inhabiting your uneasy hallucinations dangling from flora haunted by dispirited monstrosities dwelling within your fears… |  |
 |   |
| what of thee, blades, as the spheres of your wild environs are ever in a supporting role for our self-centric importance… |  |
| being sniffed in a world of existence in your womb of dirt where your land-dwelling creations of life sprout from mud and clay... |  sniffed... |
| a world of randomness amid formations of beauty and foundations of being, being eaten… |  What? (trying to look innocent...) |
| riding home into a kingdom of visions through the realm of your tiny quarrelsome abodes swaying upright on the Great Plains… |  yippie-ki-aye... |
| worthy causes curl and crumble in flames that burn within the habitat of your dream-filled spheres… |  we wish this were a dream... |
| a sunrise, perceptive, eloquent… |  Oh, to be a Cocoa Puff... |
| to become lost in a sunset over the terra firma on this terrestrial globe… |  swaying in the cool breeze of the night... |
| innate instinct veiled beneath moods and feelings born of generations that have mingled with the eons of your habitat… |  mmm, grub... |
 um, roar... |  I am a fox in the tall grass... I hear... I smell... food... |
X. Sona si Latine loqueris, oh blades!
Adding your comment:
and trim it waaaay down to a more concise read...that first stanza quickly lost my interest, but i stuck with it and plowed through til i got past the weed beds.. 
then i was walking in high cotton 
and all the image inserts were kinda wonderful..like wild flowers growing inbetween the grass blades. i do not really get any metaphor here, am i just dense? i kept thinking i was missing something, but i got to the end and thought, huh, it really is about grass! so then i felt like i better read it again...that is when i wanted to get the weed-eater out and get to trimming this beast. hope you wanted my real opinion...try to be as concise in the first stanza as the others...use the word 'blades' less and i think it might be a better read. but what do i know, i even have weeds in my garden. 
great job here!
4 old applause
