Compost of Life

by Lienne

October 4, 2013

Compost of Life

Sun shining, birds chirping, sweat dripping;

Into the soil the little seeds go,

Vegetable seeds, fruit seeds;

All into little holes

Clouds hovering, wind blowing, leaves falling;

In the soil the little seeds grow,

Vegetable seeds, fruit seeds;

All in their little holes

Temperature freezing, trees sleeping, snow swirling;

In the soil the little seeds grow,

Vegetable seeds, fruit seeds;

All in their little holes

Rain pouring, ground soaking, plants sprouting;

Above the soil the little plants grow,

Vegetables, fruits,

All their roots in the ground

Temperature rising, sun coming, day light increasing;

In the sky the plants ripen,

Vegetables, fruits,

All ready to go;

Picking, preparing

Out of the soil the plants go;

Eating, enjoying,

Into the compost the inedible parts of the food go

Compost sitting, worms eating;

Into soil the parts of food turn

Sun shining, birds chirping, sweat dripping;

Into the soil the little seeds go,

Vegetable seeds, fruit seeds;

All into little holes

Something wrong with this poem?

Replies are closed for this poem.

Your Poem's Voice

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (1)

LienneOct 4, 2013

FoundThis was the complete dome of heaven,All there was of it.As I looked about me I felt that the grass was the country,As water is the sea.The red of the grass made all the great prairie the colour of wine-stains,Or of certain scaweeds when they are first washed up.The light air about me told me that the world ended here:Only the ground and the sun and sky were left,And if one went a little farther there would be only sun and sky,And one would float off into them,Like the tawny hawks which sailed over our heads making slow shadows on the grass.And there was so much motion in it;The whole country seemed,Somehow,To be running.For more than anything else I felt motion in the landscape;In the fresh, easy blowing morning wind, and in the earth itself,As if the shaggy grass were a sort of loosed hid,And underneath it herds of wild buffalo were galloping,Galloping. . . .This was the complete dome of heaven,All there was of it.