Dead Peppers


Another poem which I’m planning to place in the book Letters from the Garden.  

 

I walked into the garden through rows of tomatoes.

Bees dancing through pollen quarries, the soil alive

with each dying breath of silk-green leaves like

chloro-lungs, playing with the air.

Islands of peppers and cucumbers content

in their soils, hungry for abundant growth

And quenched with the loving waters of a

Python hose or white clouds, which forbade darkness

And only reveal sunlight and better days.

 

But this was yesterday.

 

Today, rows of tomatoes clench onto their cages

As if climbing through the tops to escape starvation.

Roots wither and dry as the soil crackles and leaves

Its children to die.

Islands become planes as desolate wastelands become

All that is left of a lost garden.

I hold onto the weeds that strangle the any life

That had once been left in this place. But the fields of

Dead peppers finally gasp for breath and fade to gray

Like the rifle smoke which stains the empty walls

Leaving us with nothingness.

 

What is Tomorrow?

 

Comments?

Leave them below 

Advertisements

About Damian Rucci

D.F. Rucci is a writer, blogger, and a musician from a small town in New Jersey. View all posts by Damian Rucci

5 responses to “Dead Peppers

Join the Conversation!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: