Thread: Her

Of inferior dirt
they call her thriving
a green queen among the withered weeds
pursuing apples rotted, sun-dried seeds
gourged with possom teeth
and grinning wide as the Atlantic

Her knuckles are bitten raw
bowing letters and postage stamps
to stocking-footed men

If she’s done it once, she’s done it twice before

Then,
how now my mousy, matted friend
smeared black with pitch and maple leaves

The winter is dead, and so are you.

I really like this. Good use of alliteration, and I love the line "and grinning wide as the Atlantic".

Wow. I was going to click on this, then I thought, "Nah, it's probably just some sentimental poem about a girl someone has a crush on."

Then I clicked it anyway and read it, and I'm in love. I'm having trouble putting the pieces together, but I don't mind. I'll probably have to read it a few more times to make something of it, but that's fine. Currently I'm imagining that it's an ode to an abandoned apple-harvester kind of machine.

The only complaint I have is that, for some reason, I don't like the spacing. It's a very solid feeling poem - I might like it looking more solid too. Honestly, though, that's a pretty minor thing. I had to stretch to find anything negative to say.

Keep it up.

Thank you both. I always have difficulty coming up with a title to suggest the poem's meaning. Perhaps "Scarlet Woman" would be better, but I don't think that's quite as close as I'd like.

The poem is actually about a woman that happens to be, shall we say, the flavor of the week. Her expiration date, however, is near.

this was neat, i envisioned a women
fearful of becoming a widower perhaps?
writing letters to a distant lover?

i enjoyed the agricultural coring to the seasons of fall as well
winter is dead was a confusing jump but not so much as to butcher the peice

i wouldnt have guessed a third persona but now that i re read it can be understood

anyway, i especially had a fine flavor for the gathering of images
through the nit picking of the peice
deffinatley well written