I found a large glass container in an antique store.
My panoptic vision for it became so much more...
A bottle garden that would bring me such pleasure,
so, it grew into a tiny jungle of plants to treasure.
I nurtured it quite tenderly for almost two years
but one morning, what I found left me in tears.
Tiny mites and aphids stripped all the foliage clean.
I'll burn my bottle garden and pests with kerosene.
Dejected in love
I act in defiance of,
yet face the music
Why not look into my face,
Embrace panoptic passion !
One tanka - 5/7/5/7/7
Written on 19/4/14
Sponsor- Amy green
Now for contest ' Just one Tanka- old and new' by Alfred Vassallo
Entered on August 28th, 2014
There is no pain
that is unaccompanied
by light blinding
or translucent like seeing
the sun through a flame or another's petite morte
as you climax,
and heap in rubbled bodies,
others cast in panoptic stone
by the suffocating beauty of the soldiered
rose-blossoms.
They cry, cry out in ineffable joy at the sky
or lips fall heavy to the dust
as they climax,
and entwined in fervent bodies
we all come to know what makes us bare another
sadness swaddled in marble arms.
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