Monday, July 21, 2008

POMEGRANATE STAIN

The pomegranate incense is gone yet the smell of the smoke lingers
Filling my nose with its scent
I used the last stick yesterday
And am sick with desire to smell that pungent fruit
Sinking into my veins
Like a good fix on life
The deep red burgundy of the berries merges with my blood

The pomegranate incense of my life remains
Like seeds once picked over by crows
Dry and humble they lie
Renewed by life’s rain
Each seed leaves behind a bright red stain

There’s no shortage of pomegranate seeds
When pomegranate season comes
I’ll devour them greedily
The taste of the red berry remains sweet &sticky on my tongue

I long for my pomegranate incense
The last stick burned yesterday
I’m sick with desire to smell that pungent fruit again
Its ephemeral scent lost in my garden of yesteryears
I search for yesterdays scent lost in today’s patchouli mist

3 comments:

  1. I'm digging this a lot
    Well done! Love the pom and the poem....

    ReplyDelete
  2. CYE L7:09 PM

    your imagery and use of metaphor is quite strong here - well actually it's always strong - I just happen to like this poem a lot and wanted to tell you

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  3. Lanie4:01 AM

    I love this poem so much, Joy! I could almost smell the incense. I always love your poetry.

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