From my writing seat
the window frames the
tableau of yellow leaves
the wisteria
has met with Autumn
too early this year
Did I not water
one crucial day when
wind plucked the water
as surely as sun
drying out the leaves
killing them too soon
Today that same wind
plucks them from the vine
to lie in yellow
drifts upon the ground
the devastation
plucks at my heart too
Do those leaves accuse
me for lack of care
plants grown in a pot
need more vigilance
did I then fail them
like Gaza’s children
Plucked from life too soon
all because Zion
“is mowing the grass”
arms makers making
money from the war
leaders not leading
Have we the people
seeing the tableau
of all the fallen
done enough for those
unlucky to be born
trapped in a pot
They did not choose to
be born in a land
others had decided
they could not share with
had to have it all
to be safe from death
Children of Gaza
lie countless as my
wisteria leaves
accusing me of
not raising my voice
sufficiently yet…
© Andrew Wilson, 2024
Previous poems of protest and images generated in Midjourney…
Over at dVerse Poets Pub, Laura Bloomsbury in Meeting the Bar: Critique and Craft, marks the birthday of American poet Sam Hamill (1943-2018) of whom she says “Hamill’s poetry is absent on rhyme and heavy on unadulterated lyricism. He talks his poetry to the page as here in “After Morning Rain” which switches between his personal loci and wider, world issues […] Hamill was a poet both in the world and of the world, being the leading light for ‘Poets Against the War’ and still his poetry does not stray far from what he sees, feels and knows directly”.
Laura also asks us to write in the poetry form ‘The Tableau’ created by Emily Romano in 2008:
Poetry Style:
- 1 or more verses
- 6 lines per verse
- 5 beats/syllables per line
Poetry Rules:
no rhyme scheme
title should contain the word ‘tableau’
poem should aim to be pictorial
A sad tableau, Andrew, and I love the pathetic fallacy of the main body of the poem, the comparison of the Children of Gaza with the fallen leaves, and the way they link in these lines:
‘Today that same wind
plucks them from the vine
to lie in yellow
drifts upon the ground’.
I also like the idea of the ‘wisteria leaves / accusing me of / not raising my voice / sufficiently yet…’
Thank you, Kim, there was no contrivance here – the two things have been on my mind, one of them constantly, the other, the last few days and they naturally flowed together in this poem – especially with the example of Hamill’s After Morning Rain…
A devastating tableau, a heartfelt write. ‘Have we the people seeing the tableau of all the fallen
done enough for those unlucky to be born trapped in a pot’ … until this ends, no.
Thank you, Helen, I wish it would but the conflict, this time around, has shown how deep the issue goes and how it looks when stripped naked so that there should be no excuse for supporting the oppressor yet I fear that it will continue for a long time – the oppression and the support…
As a plant person, I took note of the care and nurturing in your lines. The early autumn season is upon us, with the falling of some leaves. And I feel for all innocent lives who are killed by terrorist groups. Have a good weekend!
Thanks Grace, it just seemed a bit early and I haven’t seen anybody else’s wisteria yellow yet…
I’m in perfect with both threads of this one! You might have written it on my behalf.
If only it wasn’t necessary to write such things, Rosemary…
this was perfect– you captured a bit of Hamill, a bit of yourself, and a beautiful bit of nature. very well done!
Thanks Ren – I liked his style – identified with it…
You captured Hamill’s style quite well. It’s all about nurturing and caring.
Thank you Sara – I sometimes wonder if these prompts do not turn us into poetic chameleons…
A wonderful sad write. I wish that it didn’t need to be written. Again and again.
Absolutely Shaun, absolutely…
A very evocotive way to connect with the season and the fallen leaves with the event that happens and continue to happen.
“drying out the leaves
killing them too soon”
“the devastation
plucks at my heart too”
“did I then fail them
like Gaza’s children”
“unlucky to be born
trapped in a pot”
These tell a story all their own. I often wonder how raising our voices actually helps anything. Concerning war and its casualties, obviously, not watering plants.
Drops of water make up an ocean, Melissa – one expresses one’s feelings in the hope that it might make a drop of difference…