Where Grass Doesn’t Grow dVerse Open Link #105

Dust your hands
while the sun melts in the grass;
the conclusion’s a dark robe
covering a promise broken
in love’s fog
or a fire in the wind,
a deep stream of
verbs and words.

There are doors bending wood,
warping smiles, sighs and sorrow
drawn with crooked lines.

There’s a realm dividing meadows,
the fauna of urbanization,
where grass doesn’t grow and lack
of oxygen suffocates its people.

There’s an arena whose ambiance
releases women’s wishes that colors
lightning in their eyes with praise.

Somewhere fish and turtles
travel miles along beaches —
like veins exploding in your hands,
like an exposed breast,
like fear or safety.

I hear a cat screech in the night,
when the birds fluttering flight
goes higher than the serious light.


28 responses to “Where Grass Doesn’t Grow dVerse Open Link #105

  1. the fauna of urbanization–I am so not a city-girl. This is a bit disconcerting. We have such a need for nature to keep us sane.

  2. Some really strong lines…the conclusion’s a dark robe…beautiful.

  3. Sounds like a desolate plate.. some great imagery and I particularly like the concluding stanza..

  4. goodness pamela…love those last two stanzas….the fish & turtles…like veins…that whole progression there…through the cat screech & birds…just kinda exploded on the page for me…kinda surreal throughout, but def followed you down the rabbit hole…smiles.

  5. i like the little touches here – the cat screeching in the night – the turtles traveling miles – the veins exploding – it creates a cool feel

  6. Some excellent imagery in this. Great write.

  7. So many vivid details here, Pamela. Urbanization definitely comes at a price…. I like ‘the fauna of urbanization’ — so expressive; and ‘doors bending wood’ (I see as a kind of decay), and the cat screeching in the night (to me symbolizes pain).

  8. Mind bending! (And I thought my mind couldn’t be bent any further!)

  9. This has an exotic feel – disconcerting for this country girl, but exciting as well.
    I’m way behind on visiting, due to the chaos surrounding the house move. I can’t wait for it all to be over so that I can get back to writing and reading every day.

  10. A very surreal caution to this poem that I like very much.>KB

  11. That opening line with the sun melting into grass really drew me in and took me on quite a journey.

  12. the mood created with your words is almost palpable, and this:
    There are doors bending wood,
    warping smiles, sighs and sorrow
    drawn with crooked lines.

    just sublime poetry to these ears, ty.

  13. This is very well written, and makes me so very thankful for my non-urban abode!

  14. That last tercet is piercing, pamela–and the first stanza may be one of the best I’ve read. In fact all of it reminds me of the intricate lines and flows of antique jewelry, finely crafted, not meaninglessly ornate, but every line and image a symbol. Just lovely.

  15. Yes, you wrapped it all up so nicely at the end… I need to be outside, to breathe, to live, to laugh. I absolutely love that last stanza, what a beautiful image.

  16. with one end there is a beginning. dust our hands… open our eyes… thank you

  17. Amazing imagery. Great word choices aswell.

  18. This is lovely, Pamela. I had to read it aloud, too. I especially like the last 2 stanzas.

  19. fauna of urbanisation is a strong line… where grass doesn’t grow. It’s so desolate, and it’s happening everywhere this sprawling urbanisation. It’s sad. Such powerful imagery used. Wonderful poem Pamela! 🙂

  20. This has an almost visionary quality about it..where the grass doesn’t grow..I hope the future does hold more concrete and asphalt. I rather like nature and the green grass.

  21. That last stanza is a beaut…Great work!

  22. One of your best writing ~ That 4th and 5th stanza just blows me away ~


  23. I hope and pray that there will always be places where the grass grows – but at the rate that our towns and cities are sprawling, it’s not guaranteed.

  24. I think I held my breath reading this. The imagery is so strong, sad to me. I love the flow of this, the ending. You did a superb job here. I really enjoyed it.

  25. This is excellent. I choose to live in more rural places, tend to my garden and make sure the birds have full bellies. I pull trash from the river and let the black-eyed susans tell me good morning. I don’t think I could ever live surrounded by asphalt with any sense of comfort or peace.

  26. love the similes in that penultimate verse… powerful.

  27. loved how you took us on an intellectual journey and we ended up in nature

  28. loved the second to last stanza – wow. gives off an eerie, yet so powerful vibe… very well crafted. excellent imagery

I appreciate all comments.

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