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    Parker Owens
  • Parker Owens
  • Author
  • 01/13/2020
  • 306 Words
  • 1,458 Views
  • 12 Comments
Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Disasters, Delights and Other Detours - 62. Three January Reflections

All the errors and eccentricities herein are mine.

Not the Apple

 

It's not the apple's fault,

nor an error of the branch

that made the garden wither

and the frail flowers fall and fade;

no design flaw in skin or seed

caused their leaves to yellow and curl,

admitting in their dried up drifts

to a newly discovered mortality,

and neither were tart sweet flesh within

nor shining black indwelling seeds to blame.

Blighted boxwood, bean and begonia

shrivel under the shining sun,

and half-furred creatures circle

blindly, blindly,

limping after their lost names

from what I did,

and for what I failed to do;

but not

because of the apple.

 
 

Overwintering

 

Turn your face from the cold west wind,

biting and scouring ears and nose;

walk with your back to the roar and whistle

sounding in the concrete canyons of commerce,

past glittering soulless palaces

with thousands of eyes

yet without sight.

Into a cinched-tight hood retreat;

from gold-lit windows

luminous with hilarity withdraw,

shut off warmth and laughter

and steer a safe course down the river of faces,

all doubting your humanity,

distrust written on each brow.

Near the interchange,

curl up safe in an eddy,

where sere shoals of shriveled leaves wash up,

rattled and tattered by the blast;

a place for them and us

to turn to soil.


 

The Last of Them

 

One last gift remains

in the bottom of the box,

tied up in rainbowed ribbons and glittered paper,

it lay beneath layers of gratification and indulgence,

awaiting its time

while they burst forth,

to boil and embitter,

leaving riotous wrappings and stuffings strewn about like wreckage.

Open the package carefully,

cradle its contents,

hold it up to the eye,

marvel at each flawless facet

and let the sun reflected from its crystal surface

melt your heart

and warm the world.

Any comments or thoughts you may have are welcome. Leave one if you like.
Copyright © 2017 Parker Owens; All Rights Reserved.
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Valkyrie
  • Site Administrator

These all spoke to me, in different ways.  Thank you for sharing.  :hug:  

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Headstall

Overwintering felt like an ode to homelessness. People shut off from the world... forgotten. I found it stark and moving. 

Not the Apple... Ah, the travails of gardening. 

 

"marvel at each flawless facet

and let the sun reflected from its crystal surface

melt your heart

and warm the world."

Beautiful... enough said. Evocative, all three, Parker. :hug: 

 

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northie

Not the Apple - yes, there's gardening in there, but I also read it as don't shelter behind Original Sin - take responsibility yourself. Overwintering - many living beings struggle to survive in the winter. Us included when there's no home to be had. The Last of Them was the best to my mind. As ever, dear friend, you direct us away from pursuing material things  Give and receive love instead. Yes, indeed.

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Parker Owens
4 hours ago, Valkyrie said:

These all spoke to me, in different ways.  Thank you for sharing.  :hug:  

Thanks for reading these. Each one has a different feel, so I’m glad they spoke to you. 

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Parker Owens
2 hours ago, Headstall said:

Overwintering felt like an ode to homelessness. People shut off from the world... forgotten. I found it stark and moving. 

Not the Apple... Ah, the travails of gardening. 

 

"marvel at each flawless facet

and let the sun reflected from its crystal surface

melt your heart

and warm the world."

Beautiful... enough said. Evocative, all three, Parker. :hug: 

 

Overwintering came to mind as a poem to remind us of the need to help those with no roof and no warmth. Not the Apple was written following the advice to write what I felt. The Last has several sources. I’m very glad these connected with you. 

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Parker Owens
44 minutes ago, northie said:

Not the Apple - yes, there's gardening in there, but I also read it as don't shelter behind Original Sin - take responsibility yourself. Overwintering - many living beings struggle to survive in the winter. Us included when there's no home to be had. The Last of Them was the best to my mind. As ever, dear friend, you direct us away from pursuing material things  Give and receive love instead. Yes, indeed.

Thank you for picking up on the notion of original sin woven into the fabric of Not the Apple. You also heard me well in Overwintering, The Last of Them has several sources, and it makes me glad that its reflection has shone on you too. 

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Aditus

Not the Apple

Is it a personal flaw of mine that I never connect the nice, sweet, tart apple with sin? In fact your poem made me realize that I reject the whole original sin concept. I won't bore you with a philosophical or  even religious discourse, but I want to thank you for showing me that part of me.

Overwintering

Powerful imagery. 

The Last of Them

Lets me look at the collection of crystal stars decorating my  windows. It's a way to  color life, especially in winter with its low sun

 

Thank you for these.  

 

 

 

 

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Parker Owens
6 hours ago, aditus said:

Not the Apple

Is it a personal flaw of mine that I never connect the nice, sweet, tart apple with sin? In fact your poem made me realize that I reject the whole original sin concept. I won't bore you with a philosophical or  even religious discourse, but I want to thank you for showing me that part of me.

Overwintering

Powerful imagery. 

The Last of Them

Lets me look at the collection of crystal stars decorating my  windows. It's a way to  color life, especially in winter with its low sun

 

Thank you for these.  

 

 

 

 

I’m glad you join me in choosing to ignore that ancient doctrine and just enjoy our apples. It makes me smile that The Last if Them helps you color life. I shall think of your stars. I’m very grateful you read these and responded to them. 

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Parker Owens
On 1/17/2020 at 8:04 PM, AC Benus said:

I'll just offer you some hugs, my friend. The poems are brilliant, needless to say :hug:

You are enormously kind. Your hugs are warmth itself. Thank you for reading these. 

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dughlas

In Not the Apple I first felt winter's approach but then something deeper struck me. It spoke not of winter's blight but a fall from grace ...

from what I did,

and what I failed to do ...

The blame is mine, no other's.

 

I was in Philadelphia the beginning of this past week. As I walked those streets I saw them there ... Overwintering.

 

Are the words of The Last of Them the sun's reflection that comes to melt and warm your heart after the bitter chill melancholy of the words that came before. The assuredly did for me.

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Parker Owens
5 hours ago, dughlas said:

In Not the Apple I first felt winter's approach but then something deeper struck me. It spoke not of winter's blight but a fall from grace ...

from what I did,

and what I failed to do ...

The blame is mine, no other's.

 

I was in Philadelphia the beginning of this past week. As I walked those streets I saw them there ... Overwintering.

 

Are the words of The Last of Them the sun's reflection that comes to melt and warm your heart after the bitter chill melancholy of the words that came before. The assuredly did for me.

Thank you, my dear brother. You were kind to read and respond to these. Not the Apple talks about that fall, which only I may own. The Last of Them speaks of hope indeed, the last bright gift after someone pried open Pandora’s UPS package. 

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