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Poetry

New Cut Grass Affirms Your Thoughts Left Behind

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photo by omid armin on unsplash.jpg

Scent Among The Grass

It’s strange to smell this freshly cut lawn,
Triggering memories of when I was young.

A 7-year-old baller running through vegetation,
On a soggy and ash-looking Autumn afternoon.

Now crowned gray and sitting by the window,
My head tilts past the Monstera deliciosa.

A voluntary recurrent thought is assumed,
I rabidly sniff up the volatile compounds.

Nature’s death emits vaporous tears, scented,
Defense chemicals, a cacophony of screams.

In this cruel world, the barbaric mower’s dream,
Of toast and oats; rice, roast, and alcohol.

Grazing cows told me grass is like water,
The latter a little shy prodding warm flashbacks.

If no one else in the world agrees nature is key,
I exist as I am, sniffing grass, content.

poem: thinking is an important thing

Skendong

Author Skendong

Metamorphosing Clunky Narratives

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