The Pear Tree, the Poet, and The Pundit
The pear tree petals drift like confetti
They melt into the broken sidewalk.
(It cracked in the last quake.)
A worker slings a chainsaw with the ease of routine.
Branches fall, loose and unhinged, scattered on the cold cement.
A shower of white to be trampled, unnoticed.
The children head home from school, backpacks unzipped,
Papers, books, cola cans, bounce in running rhythm
A human world at odds with a Spring day.
Her words hit the paper with tenderness
The whiteness dimples with ciphers and script.
She changes a word or a phrase. It pleases her.
The critic’s hatchet pen matches his rum-ruddy, scarred face.
“Give up,” he pontificates. “This is hopeless.”
“You have no talent,” he writes, as if he alone does.
“People want action, violence and sex.”
He believes he knows all, can ignore love and beauty,
All goodness latent within humanity.
He ignores the greed that buries his intuition
Of what matters and of what will last.
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Undone by the power in these lines - the inspiration to continue, despite the debris left behind by the so called "experts." Poets can weather any storm - they have to! So take that chainsaw that is the pen and write, write, write! Well done, my new favorite of yours.
((((HUGS)))) and love, Karla.
Cheers,
Dan
Be always safe,
Karen
Jasmin Horst
A unique ponderation... "The Pear Trees, the Poet, and the Pundit" poemizes the nature of human feelings, and delivers a wise message. This composition is a satire showing the weakness of egotism poetized with a lexis dictated by a heart that pumps wisdom.
I have enjoyed the reading of "The Pear Trees, the Poet, and the Pundit".
I salute You, Poet.
Andre Emmanuel Bendavi ben-YEHU