April—
long fingers of grass
stretch through cold earth.
I think of your emergence.
Sixteen months ago
you returned to dust,
and I wonder:
could ashes have a butterfly effect—
could those verdant fingers
be yours?
Author notes
I might replace this with something else later. This feels kind of shitty to me. I'm kind of drunk though so that's expected.
My dead dude = a good friend who died last January. I fucking miss him.
A contest entry
- celebrate dead dude day! by amaranthine lover.
700 points, ended May 13, 6 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
rip it
Comments
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very well done!
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In Hamlet there is a long
dissertation by the Prince concerning a subject such as this but his was negatively or positively unhealthy. This poem is purposeful, your thoughts being inspired by vernal rebirth. The physics and metaphysics here of the "butterfly effect" could be lost on some but I think that your wit is effective and I mean wit in the classic sense.
Thank you for your poem. Ron.
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oh wow, i dont think you should change this, this is truely beautiful! sorry on your lose though. i love this poem, very well written. good luck in the contest x
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I like drunk Elizabeth!
I went through this phase where I always wanted to write when I was drunk. I tried. Half the time I couldn't decipher what was there in the morning. I was battling myself at the time, though. I don't get that drunk anymore.
I like it all except, maybe, the last two lines. They feel a little too obvious to me... if that makes sense... ? It's a beautiful idea with strong imagery, otherwise.
I'm sorry to hear about your friend. Losing amazing people is tough, but the idea of "rebirth" makes it a wee bit more peaceful.
Take care,
K-J
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