Garden Of Woe – A Poem By Carol J Forrester

Writing and Works

So many orphaned sorrows,
I gather the castoffs,
pluck stories by root,
dirt clotted,
waterlogged.
Old tears still bloom
with dark, thickened flowers.
In the potting shed I ease them
one by one
into terracotta bassinets.
Pack soil round tight,
to keep them from weeding out
into the garden proper,
before their time.
From the window, half-light,
slips between the shelving slats
trips over spiderwebs and drip trays.
Safety among the looming gloom,
safe from the unearthing grief.

Tonight’s poetics challenge was to take a line from Paul Dunbar’s The Paradox, and to build a poem around it. My choice was “I am the mother of sorrows; I am the ender of grief;” which has led to this rather odd piece.

View original post

we would love to hear from you!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.