Saturday, May 27, 2006

I am a founding member of a small group of writers called The Clay Pot Society. The group is so small it consists only of myself and a friend at present. Our second meeting was last night and we met at a small restaurant in Westdale did some writing exercises and later shared some of our new material. This is the poem I wrote for the occasion.

We Know, And Yet...

So we know how it should work
The branch drawing nourishment from the vine
Sucking sustenance (need I be scientific?)
Water and nutrients capillarizing
The branch staying fresh and green
Budding with promise
And then bearing fruit
Fruit that ripens on the vine
Turning from small sour green to large luscious purple
We know all this, and what’s more we
know about complete joy, kept commands,
chosen friends, and sacrificial love
Yes we know about pruned branches and lasting fruit,
answered requests and proven discipleship
So why do I feel more like
the dry withered branch
tossed aside
and destined for the bonfire?



I suspect capillarizing is really not a word, and I admit my knowledge of viticulture is deficient, whatever else I may know, but we in The Clay Poet Society are not harsh critics and are accepting of all literary efforts.

3 comments:

Rachel said...

this poem is not crummy. wait, was that even the adjective you used?
well, it's good.
I like this line: Turning from small sour green to large luscious purple

ps. dictionary.com says: ca·pil·la·ri·o·ses /-'O-"sEz/
: infestation with or disease caused by nematode worms of the genus Capillaria

that's the closest word to capillarizing, sorry.

Karen said...

Yeah, the poem is pretty good. Plus it is good that you are exercising your writing muscles - keeps you fresh.

Suzanne said...

Thanks Rachel and Karen and/or Clint.
I think capillarizing should be a word. I mean your blood flows through your body by capillaries like water and nutrients flow through a plant, and then there is the end of the word--"rizing" which makes me think of "rising" which is the idea I was trying to get at. Well, I guess I can't be inventing new words in my poetry. Sometimes I think Shakespeare did it, but I am not at his level.