Food

Written for The Mag

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It came from his grandmother,
a love of the earth
and growing things,

a connection to the dirt.

HIs wife always said he
was going to become
a fruit or vegetable,
more a part of his
garden than her
home.

Now, she laughed
at the irony
when she stood
by his stone — a last
wish she was happy
to accomodate —
back where the corn
used to grow.

Now he fed the earth
and fulfilled her
prophecies.

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15 Comments

Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

15 responses to “Food

  1. Great! Something about the wording and placement of this line:
    “a connection to the dirt.”
    just makes this. Excellent.

  2. back to where the corn made me think of cornucopia…mmmm… interesting

    fruit essence facial mask

  3. Tess Kincaid

    Oh yes I like this a lot…the circle of life…

  4. at some time we all will get there…feeding the earth….and you know, i bet he dont mind at all to give back once more…

  5. I like the cycle of life (feeding) and death (dirt) ~ Lovely words ~

    http://everydayamazin.blogspot.ca/2012/06/abundance.html

  6. katheworsley

    that would be nice to be planted in my veggie bed!

  7. The dirt really anchored the ideas here Mark. You’ve included a corny ending for sure. I love the weave of generational connections you’ve crafted too. Thank you for sharing this Field of Dreams.

  8. “His wife said” – was this a relation? I like the way you have told this, as though from a distance.

  9. Helen

    Loved this, made me think of the rural cemeteries where my grandparents and great-grandparents lie ~ among fruit trees and wild flowers.

  10. Wow! This is amazing. I am blown away by where you went with this and the surprise ending.

  11. Such a beautiful thing your grandmother passed to you, Mark! Great poem!

  12. rosemary mint

    “more a part of his
    garden than her
    home”

    “Now he fed the earth
    and fulfilled her
    prophecies.”

    You are on a roll here, Mark! Excellent. 🙂

  13. Mark, a fun read. You always manage to work a relationship into it which brightens the story. Love the way this one ends.

    Richard

Some of what I write is true, some is fiction; most is merely possibility.

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