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R A Beeman

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Steel On Earth
by R A Beeman

Tuesday, June 08, 2010
Not rated by the Author.
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Recent poems by R A Beeman
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           >> View all 152

There is a certain triumph to cutting a new swath in the garden or tilling up a new area to plant.
However, I never thought of the ramifications of the steel on earth.

There is an eerie moan as the steel tines touch the virgin soil for the first time.

Foreign to the earth and disrespectful to it’s being, I forge ahead pushing the throbbing tiller through earth and stone. 

Thinking of nothing but fresh veggies and a chance to grow more for less I missed the chance to feel or to learn.

With each pass of the plowing, the earth sends up stones and roots to snarl the tines.

The whine of the machine wails as if in victory over these obstacles that the earth brings forth.

With every pass, the stones become less, the roots are broken and the smell of fresh dirt fills the air.

With sweat beading on my brow, I try to feel the oneness that is oft shared with earth, yet blood is on my hands.

I have stained my ground for the sake of sustaining my own existence. 

Stooped low over the area, I pluck the stones from the loose dirt and marvel at how continue to show up.

Often when our lives are being torn by steel, tumbled and refined, we miss the chance to see beyond the pain that was inflicted by past plows.  

The gardener only wishes to plant to bring forth beautiful items for all to share.

So too does the woman or the man wish to bring forth a beauty that is free from stone or root.

Somehow, the earth always teaches those who tread on her the most the marvel of patience.

For within each relationship we share, stones will become walls and roots will grow to smother out all life if we fail to always work the ground.

Am I just a prick on flesh trying to snatch the virginity of your very soul?

I dare say that I share in your flesh and marvel at your virginity.  For all ground can be fertile if one only knows how to plow.

When the very soil that you so held back from my hands yields a bounty for us to share, then shall an evening of orgasmic bliss shall fill palates and our lust.

For candles, wine and the smell of grilled produce will seduce even the hardest of soils.

Smile on me earth mother for your ground brought forth more than I could have ever asked for.

And the virgin cries anew while steel touches soil and love touches my soul.

rb. 6-07-10

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Reviewed by Lew Duffey 6/9/2010
This was well thought out.
Great write.
God bless,
Reviewed by Staci Gansky-Wagner 6/9/2010
Reviewed by Karen Vanderlaan 6/9/2010
i love the depth of this write-well done!
Reviewed by Victoria's Poetry & Voices of Muse 6/9/2010
this is a beautiful reading Randy, and in every metaphor I also
enjoyed while too as you knowing our harvests are in cultivating
the soils to grow & yes...the souls of others.
Love is our bounty and our harvest...
I place nutrient rich compost tea into your earth gardens
made with mother's leaves & decomposing elements
(old leaves, twigs, straw ect...)
Tilling With Growth never destruction
Reviewed by Dawn Anderson 6/8/2010
Randy, this is so beautiful and I love how you liken the earth to a relationship. It's so good to read your work again!
Reviewed by Tammy Wright (Reader) 6/8/2010
Absolutely beautiful writing. ...and love touches my soul.

Reviewed by Carin Spirit 6/8/2010
Beautiful and Serene. Be Well, Carin'
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