Under daphne’s tutu blooms
moody croci nightly close
leach the bones in decompose.
No need entombed, casement
closed, time less-fragile kisses dust.
Buried then, and kept our loss.
At dVerse poets pub, Pamela Sayers writes about home. Her poem The Lure of Beauty is breath-taking. CLick the link to read.
I live in a city surrounded by and infused with natural beauty. Mountains and ocean, grays, blues, and greens to spill your heart for. Today, I wrote close to home; near the place I rest my head at night. This is a poem about the four-legged loved ones buried in the front yard.
Jane, the poem is beautiful. Then I read the process notes and nearly cried. Without the process notes I may have interpreted this differently. A heartfelt write.
Pamela
thank you, Pamela. It is a pleasure to meet you.
You said so much here in such a few brief words but it spoke volumes to countless people who bury their four-legged loved ones in their yards. “time less fragile kisses dust”…oh, goodness…so bittersweet.
at my parents home there is a graveyard in th back yard…one walled lot holds all the pets of my youth….here we have buried a cat and a fish…my sons says if we ever move we have to dig them up and take them with us…smiles…so i understand…nice verse jane…
This is lovely – it has almost a Victorian sort of feel to it – the rhyme and cadence that works superwell with the subject matter. k.
it won’t surprise you then, our house is a 1908 Victorian Farmhouse (on an small city lot) thank you, karin.
i think it’s wonderful, the tender words you chose for the circle of life.. we’re not allowed to bury pets in our private backyards over here which i think is sad for the kids.. it would be good for them to be able to bury them themselves
A beautiful tale of the circle of life.
So much emotion in so few words– thanks for the share~peace, Jason
Just luminous, Jane. We are in a new house now, but this reminded me of the redbud at a former place where a very beloved JRT is buried with all his toys–brings a sting to the eyes still. Yes, we keep our loss close–the only comfort left.
Yes, this is home.
Can we get this etched on a rock for the front yard? I’m curious how people would have interpreted this poem without knowing it was about pet burial. xoxo You are my treasure true- buried mapless in tangled briar- made of flesh, bone and sinew.
Reminds of John Donne era style.
It cannot be more home than this. I would say rooted. Wonderful poetry.
Spring is in the air…the moody croci…leach the bones of decompose…ah, very good. And the second stanza is an interesting juxtaposition bringing me toward life and death, and loss.
The first line is partic is v beautifully composed. Ornate tercets here
Exquisite, Jane… especially the first stanza.
Jane, this touched me so deeply. Too bad you couldn’t have it etched on a tombstone of sorts. I’m fortunate to live in similar beauty 8 months of the year, desert beauty the other four.
Honestly this is timeless work Jane – a testament to its a quality. Quite inspiring…
A lovely compliment, Scott. Thank you very much.