By each God-sired newly born thing
Through Love, spirit-active
A blank face, for acknowledgement.
Heart, as unreactive.
Of that o'er grass, of a skied will
Warm blows, invisibly
Do these same now, sensing as much
Bow as bend: " corm ; burst free!"
corm worm
norm form
beneath
in earth
Now I
want to be a banana
plant, swinging in the wind,
free from the knots of debt.
The shards of dreams won’t wound
me again. Ever. I’ll never be hunted
by the loan sharks with serrated teeth. The
weevil thought cannot perforate the corm of my peace.
Away from the waves of suicide, I’ll live–listening to the
Asian koel. I can decipher that song. Someone may drop
nutritious love into my heart; my roots will be wet
with kindness. My cigar leaf can grow straight
into the light. The blossoming of
altruism will come out, opening my
skull– budding. My end is made
serene- calm, by the cogitation
of my fruitful
e
x
i
s
t
e
n
c
e.
*First published in Native Skin.
*Reprinted in The Literary Hatchet.
*Poetry Nook Weekly Contest Winner.
A gnarled lone oak tree
grew in the middle of voluminous nowhere,
amidst vast stretches of citron corm fields,
a by-product of an old man’s weird whim.
It proved quite a memorable playground,
For when I was small it was pure delight.
Oh how I loved to climb up
towards an azure sky
feeling for sturdy branches,
imbibing the smell of fresh-grown leaves.
At times I would listen to the wayward wind,
as it moaned in isolation
amidst lush green branches.
Yet when storms struck
I shied away as the winds howled
and thunder rumbled around the top twigs
of my old oak tree.
The last time I was there
I was not alone.
Handsome was tagging along.
He was not interested in the old oak tree
That's when I began to hate him.
And just to prove my point
a sudden change of weather
and heavy rain fell hard.
We ran to the car but the doors stuck.
To shelter under the tree was dangerous.
Lightening zigzagged above.
The place became cursed.
Finally Handsome opened the car
and we sped away.
I never met Handsome nor visited the oak again.
Why write a sonnet for a sonnet's sake?
The mist has lifted and the sun is warm
Within the earth and deep inside the corm
Life waits. See how the ripples on the lake
Reflect the light, and how the grasses shake
Why stay indoors and write so in a form
That long ago did take the world by storm
But now would barely make a baby wake?
Why not? The world's excitements pass me by
Its many problems, purposes, and pains
Can stay outside. The movements of the sky
Are moments, but the sonnet still remains
And anyway, that Shakespeare, what a guy!
Yeah, this one's a Petrarchan, she explains
© Gail Foster 15th February 2023
truth in true form
withstand storm
minds transform
has their corm
beauty-norm
less deform
look lukewarm
duties perform
stands every great celebrity
spell-bound in their beauty
their smell is like fruity
aren't they so cutie?
having them is booty
midst environs sooty
though they look bit snooty
my pen bleeds as though her duty
04 September 2022
Charlie New-Ku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Charles Messina
RAINS
Crowd of dense dark cloud in sky.
A bird does not dare to fly.
Wrath of cloud on hit of storm
. burst in tears as rains to cry.
Summer had left soil dry.
Showers refreshing hard corm.
Forgotten love to feel shy.
Torn amour again to tie.
Rainy season in full form.
05/17/22
A Brian Strand Premier Choice
Contest by Brian Strand
twitching noses
in tussocks
of awakened primroses
rummaging on hazel boles
hibernating mammals
poke from the holes
leafless hedgerows
where buds now form
a carpet of white corm
Badgers forage
for food near their sett
renewing
their bracken scented couchette
Sparrow and robin
pair off in twos
as lengthening days
come into view.
aconite open in rays of sun
below yellow catkins
with tails fine spun.
Osier shoots
in green corn camomile
as Spring mornings
begin to smile.
W I N T E R
B R E A K S
N A T U R E
A W A K E S
G A R D E N
A S L E E P
&
an oldie reposted
Fields flooded into skating rinks
into which each footstep sinks,
cracking under body weight so
not the best place to skate.
Thawing February of twitching noses
in tussocks of woken primroses.
Rummaging on hazel boles,hibernating mammals
poke from the holes.
Leafless hedgerows , buds now form
a carpet of white corm,
Badgers forage food near their sett
renewing the bracken scented couchette.
Nature pair off in twos
lengthening days come into view.
aconite open in rays of sun
below, yellow catkins tails fine spun.
Osier shoots in green corn camomile
early Spring mornings begin to smile.
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2007
Green shoots start emerging from a tiny corm
vibrant flowers bloom when sun is warm
I drink in their sweet perfume
in my living room.
I adore
bright blooms
I want more
in purple and red
growing in my flower bed
freesia flowers give such delight
their jeweled colors are a glorious sight
Writing Challenge 2, June 2019- A Summer Flower- Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Dear Heart
Checked with how many syllables
6/25/19
Planted in the golden phase
A solitary corm in cooling ground
Dormant during barren times
When wintry depths are transient
New light awakes the sleeping soil
The fresh green blade greets warmer climes
While earth arises yet again
To conspire with sun and rain
Pierced fragile breeze by turgid spear
As nearer to a celestial glory
Its beauty begins to unfold
Faint yellow begs for sweet release
With final burst of bloom and flourish
This golden trumpet exudes a fanfare
And heralds a stately entrance
That makes old Helios proud
Marked yellow dots sheaths of green
relief for new beginnings
With sad winter fading fast
The humble corm transformed
Penning wrangled mime
and wared out of my skits,
I’m poked in serspiration,
My mind’s in fisted twits.
It’s not the way I spike to leak;
I’ve turned to try it down.
Still I'm rilled with florious grime,
so nothing dings me brown.
We poets are a lazy crot,
voiling with turds and worse.
Roping with the fools of corm,
dinditions so reverse.
A hong lot toke in the sub
might dude me a girl of wood.
Or how about a bun at the reach?
Well, I can’t wet a gay, but I should.
this meal is a deal
its a taste
its so cool so food
don't go to waste
it in the back
no a rack
in my head
COLLAR GREENS
AND CORM BREAD
am from the south
soulfood my rout
love collara green
green bean
but my theme
turning inmy head is
CORM BREAD
Snowfall so heavy in 'eighty-two
reproduced a Christmas card view.
A biting wind swirled in one foot drifts
over hanging in bridges..makeshift.
The fields flooded into skating rinks
into which each footstep sinks,
cracking under body weight so
not the best place to skate.
Thawing February brings twitching noses
in tussocks of awakened primroses.
Rummaging on hazel boles,hibernating mammals
poke from the holes.
Leafless hedgerows where buds now form
a carpet of white corm,
Badgers forage for food near their sett
renewing their bracken scented couchette.
Sparrow and robin pair off in twos
as lengthening days come into view.
aconite open in rays of sun
below yellow catkins with tails fine spun.
Osier shoots in green corn camomile
as early Spring mornings begin to smile.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.