Pulsing cactus patch farmers
hoeing hearts
with thorny tomes.
Eyeing with such
ravenous red tape mania
any sprouting prickly heart
which dares to stab
their anal retentive landscape
in question's
they never want asked.
Unable to see the beauty
of possibilities
in image blurred as numbers
on a statistician's sheet.
Using knife of prejudice
to prune away
what offends
their conformity's eco-system.
Till hands of love
find the oddity as treasure,
putting on display
where it blossoms
instead of dies.
A contest entry
- Theory Of A Thistle - Overnight Contest by CarolDesjarlais.
525 points, ended August 20, 2007, 8 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Love this...nature is the greatest farm and always puts the rest to shame...with the beauty even in her thorns and stings...you are again a pleasure to read...wonderful...Peace, Rhonda
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Thank you for the wonderful comment
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i loved the title... and the content was beautiful... i saw it as someone seeing the good in what might be considered bad by others or society... but i may have a weird twist on why it was written....
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Oh yes, there is a great deal of discussion about farmers these days, as well. There is nothing they will not do to force the land to give more than they need and to line their coffers. Demand exceeds production most times. Their constant saving by coffers of a bigger kind...they do not have to suceed in crops, simply letting it sit still lines their pockets. This came through in this poem and the last stanza truly spoke of a time when it will resume to grow where it will grow, for its purpose is higher than the farmers'. Well done.
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