my hand holds a pomegranate

 

I swallow the seeds  

spilling

warm sea in my womb 

bless my body

- a child -

untouched by sorrow

bestowed from darkness to light

through slumbering fog

hear my plea

heal bleeding pain

i'm weary but hopeful

when will our child of love be born?

Created by Microsoft Bing (AI)

Posed for dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille, hosted by Punam. This is a 44 word post with the chosen word, slumber. Thanks for the visits and comments.

seeds

within my gardener's pockets are seeds

i harvested all seasons-

round & small as buttons

flat & pointed as pins

white, brown, speckled, yellow, black 

or shiny and pearly

i have all the colors- 

soon, i will open my shed for more seeds-

mottled, scarred, rusty, half-pitted ones-

it comes

from all over my travels

i have kept them in the darkness for the season

but now it it time

to scatter them in the wide fields

all the seeds are covered with soil & water & compost

i don't know which ones will take root & grow

some will blossom in a few weeks with leaves

some will decay underneath the soil and never

even bloom

but this i know:  all are good 

so are the sky, sun, rain, cloud storms and creatures

pollinating and moving the pollen & grains-

there will be good fruits to harvest

there will also be plants to prune and throw away

one rotten apple does not mean the tree is not good

sometimes we just need to look for other good apples 

& often times finding one good apple is enough

for this gnarled gardener's hands

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub -  A discussion on Good and Evil, hosted by Punam.  Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.