Seasonal Fruit


                             Green leaves
                        rise through the earth
                    unfurling from embryonic seeds
                   instinctively reaching for the sun
                      while  nature  nourishes
                           each blind need

         cavort in  a garden
          playfully pawing

                                    brighten  the  meadow
                                trusting their delicate wings
                               flitting to land on pink lunches
                                    as  they  battle  each
                                       rushing breeze
            alight on trees
       flying free, soaring high
        ignoring blossoms that
            bloom and die

                                         Tall trees
                                  broaden their branches
                                  preparing to reproduce
                                      before leaves

                      my  gaining  weight
                 across  transmuting  phases
             of embryo, kitten, butterfly, eagle.
             I have played out the part of tree.
              Finally  acknowledging  mortality
               I liken it to a seasonal fruit
                  whose roots must wither
                     to make room for
                       fresh plants
                         to bloom

While this poem has only a tenuous connection to it, it was inspired by something my brother copied down many years ago. I think he heard it on the Sonny and Cher Show. Maybe it was set to music, maybe not. Snatches of it often play in my mind, and yet I can find no record of it anywhere. It speaks of the ego of youth – the feeling that the world is yours, and you can do anything. Here are a couple of stanzas:

Look at you, look at me,
standing ten feet tall are we.
Look at them, look at us
wondering why they make such fuss.

Look at me then look again
and maybe you’ll remember when
you stood this tall and knew it too,
and the whole world turned to look at you.

Does anyone recognise it? It would make my day if I could get a full copy.

Also, I’d really appreciate an honest critique of my poem. I’ve been battling with it for days, and I’m still not sure whether it works. You can pull out all the stops; if it is weak, I’d prefer to know.

©Jane Paterson Basil

22 thoughts on “Seasonal Fruit

  1. This one is very different to your usual. I like the visual effect – like leaves falling…. it paints a picture of spring for me. Each little verse could be the makings of a poem on its own. It’s like watching spring unfold through the writer’s eye as it roams the landscape. So there is a connect yet also a disconnect if that makes sense. Like each stanza stands on its own, coming together in the last, the tree. In a way it feels incomplete to me – is that what you were striving for? A burgeoning into something…

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Each leaf is meant to represent a different stage in life. I’m feeling a bit stuck at the moment, so I kept badgering away at this poem even though it didn’t feel right. I don’t deal well with technical difficulties and the hassle I’ve had with my new mobile and internet supplier has been driving me nuts. My inspiration goes when I’m unable to connect with you guys.

      Liked by 2 people

  2. I love the petal format. The poem seems to be more about spring, however, than the cycle of life — until the last stanza. From spring to the full cycle is a bit — I don’t know what the word I’m looking for is. Not ‘jarring” but something like that. Maybe it could use another petal or two about summer and fall?

    The images are great. And I think the message is a profound one. Even on a biological level, death is “justified” by the need for the old to get out of the way of the new.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. The purpose of this poem got lost along the way. I got blocked, since there was no room in my head for anything except my mobile and broadband frustration, but I stubbornly refused to give up on it. I’ve moved on. I don’t think it’s worth trying to sort it out.


  3. I like the idea that spring and nature continue to do their thing – an ongoing cycle – even though the narrator is fully aware of their place in it all. The eagles may be unaware of anything other than their own soaring but your narrator knows where they will end up – giving way to make space for the next generation. I get what Paul means – perhaps more leaves describing other seasons? Lovely imagery

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you for your useful comments Lynn. I’m pleased that I posted it. It confirms everything I believed about the poem, and tells me I should trust my instincts. Normally I’d have given up on it and maybe returned later, but I was being stubborn although I felt uninspired.

      Liked by 1 person

Thank you for dropping by. If you have any thoughts, questions, treats or cures, you're welcome to drop them in the comment box.

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

You are commenting using your 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.