what we spill //on life’s plowed & jagged surface

dry & grainy in my palm,
i pour seeds//words on the page,
across the soil & in her left breast grow
fields of flowers instead–

we sit head bent
on the kitchen table, praying
night pokes its dark curly head between a street lamp,
curtain, pane–

In the fun park yesterday
i didn’t even realize
my colleague’s back on the bench next to me,

“you’re watching people?” he asks carefully,
“yes– loving it”
and we sit //silent
til others return pink-cheek-laughing
from a roller coaster ride
seeds sun-warm inside
my pockets, hungry for rain’s soft embrace

on the highway, bus ride back,
tires press rubber lips against grey concrete
in a mad kiss
& i think about
sneaking in my husband’s house,
into his bed &—-
–leaving before the girls wake
though there is a time
for sowing// wisely

“Yes” a colleague leans across the seat
“i’ll send the presentations
by tomorrow morning”
“great. thanks”

i let tiny grains
from the depths of what i am
fall on the night-black street

—with tender hands
pull lakes of soil&wind
upon it


Shanyn has us write seeds and sowing in our poetry today… the dVerse pub doors open at 3pm EST..


47 responses to “what we spill //on life’s plowed & jagged surface

  1. with everything else going on, i am sure the shadow of all that is going on with your husband///as well as your own desires are a constant shadow…and its hard too because we want the security that comes with or is promised by making love…that all is ok…i like the lakes of soil, kinda mix…its cool…and you will know when to plant those seeds…smiles.

  2. I enjoyed the reflective mood of your poem, Claudia. The daily snippets and the deeper questions. I hope these tiny grains grow to be beautiful flowers.

  3. I remember feeling that ‘twang’ when I was getting divorced..it’s common, I think, for people who really connected to want to keep the best parts of the relationship, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it would last; on the other hand, it could ..depending…smiles

  4. Ya … sowing seeds of love again and again and then some … still standing tall so far … yes? yes! … smiles

  5. It is not one to take a gamble with seeds. But there is such a thing as green fingers. They are a rare breed! Hoping the seeds will spring out as intended. Great take Claudia!


  6. I’ve missed reading your storytelling and other-worldly poetry, Claudia. So much to read, so little time to enjoy it all. On the outside, this seems to be a glorious celebration of an ordinary day, but I suspect something else mumbling between the lines … 🙂

  7. Wistful and haunting, a snippet of life and a longing for beyong. Especially loved this: ‘seeds sun-warm inside my pockets, hungry for rain’s soft embrace’. Dry and wet both nourish us…

  8. Seeds are what’s left when the bud flowers and seems to die. I love that they are ready in the pocket, love the tenderness with which the narrator seeds herself/them onto earth and covers them with lake soil wind.

  9. Seems like difficult times…I can relate so to this one. Some days are just hard to get through but yeah but those sun warmed seeds can definitely be hungry for the rains soft embrace. A very thoughtful poem. 🙂

  10. Claudia, I think we leave grains of who we are everywhere we travel. We can’t help leaving our mark in the world even though we aren’t thinking about it at the time. You used a very inspired image in this poem. Tires pressing rubber lips against the gray concrete — kisses. Somehow I think there are a lot of kisses like this in the environment, if we only take note of them. (I wanna see a sketch of this one!) I like the idea of seeds as words on a page too. We never really know what they will grow into when we begin, do we? Birth is a creative process indeed.

  11. This is such a heart-wide-open poem, I love the imagery, especially night poking its dark curly head, tires pressing rubber lips, pulling lakes of soil and wind. wow. just an incredible piece, your work is always just so rich.

  12. Such a magical stanza ‘i let tiny grains
    from the depths of what i am
    fall on the night-black street’ ~ and the title ‘what we spill’ walking along the life in all meaning…and wise conclusion that we have do sowing wisely now… ~ very thoughtful poem ~ from other side though – we sometimes hold, withdraw from spilling, what is bad too…made me reflect on my stuff.

  13. What an intimate moment in time you share, allowing us in to your deepest “you.” I do love that line about the tires. Only true poets see life like that. Much to praise in this, Claudia.

  14. None of us ever truly know what someday we will reap, something sown in darkness, glitter, mist, passion, anger, chaos, laughter. We dVerse dogs send you huge love licks from wide poetic tongues–yeah, your lines about /rubber lips/locked in mad kisses/ is a grabber. Terrific response to the seeds & sowing prompt.

  15. I love the things you say and those left unsaid…love this..seeds sun-warm inside
    my pockets, hungry for rain’s soft embrace….night poking its dark curly head…and the opening lines -beautiful.xo

  16. Indeed there is a time for sowing wisely ~ I love the capture of sun kissed day in the park & your thoughts at the end of the day ~ Have a lovely week ~

  17. Ah, yes. I identify with this – everything you do is shaded, dogged, infused with the personal. It’s almost as if you are living half a life in one place, half in another. Not quite here – or there.

  18. Hi Claudia, I thought this was a great poem. I like the way you used distraction to touch on important issues in your life. Beautiful imagery. Well done.

  19. i let tiny grains
    from the depths of what i am
    fall on the night-black street

    —with tender hands
    pull lakes of soil&wind
    upon it
    Loved these lines……beautiful!

  20. Ahh..the break in life of presentations..rather lived alone without them..i suppose..at least i know..

    i never miss them..

    but a seed or two..
    brings me here..

    to hear yOur presentation..

    and all of that2…;)

  21. Hello Claudia — wonderful poetry story and verse, filled with the open heart of love — that embraces the gentle earth and sheer joy of the moment!
    Lovely — joanie

  22. This was my favorite:

    i pour seeds//words on the page,
    across the soil & in her left breast grow
    fields of flowers instead–

  23. Yeah, we need to sow wisely, knowing when and how will be great for the seed. 🙂

    I also like your last line or its message – we leave something of ourselves wherever we go. 🙂

  24. I don’t know the story, but these words are so beautiful and sad. Still I am reminded that some flowers grow beautifully in their ceramic pots and the wildflowers grow where they will.