Image-ine: Jewel of Winter

Poem: Jewel of Winter

Not for the last time do we rub
the red seeded apple in season,

breaking our jewel of winter
on our altar. Not for the last time

do we seek from the aril
grown in the gardens of paradise

promises of prosperity, good luck,
abundance in the New Year.

After we drink, not for the last time,
this nectar of the underworld,

let us imagine the many seeds
unspilled, the calyx a crown

we’ll re-raise. Let us speak in the silence
of hunger as it used to be.

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Savor the pomegranate? 

Write a poem of your own, based on Kelly’s images or choose a line from Maureen’s poem as a starting place. Post on your blog and link to us (we love that), or just drop your poems here in the comment box.

Photos by Kelly Sauer. Used with permission. Poem by Maureen E. Doallas, author, Neruda’s Memoirs: Poems.

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Comments

  1. Tanesha says

    Your red nectar sparkles such, as rubies do
    seed drippings from my lips, so beautiful.

    Fill me with a rush of righteous goodness,
    the glorious Punicia Granatum.

    How did you make your way to me?
    Was it from the Caucasus Mountains,
    and through the Black Sea.

    The ancestors gave grandly when granting thee, the glorious Punicia Granatum.

  2. Nadia Alshatti says

    In the silence of hunger
    secretly blushing plum came out of slumber.

    A bleeding bomber.

    In its silky chamber
    a rippling light serpented between the red amber and its armor.

    The crowned plum traped its berries under.

    In a taste of majestic pleasure and splender.

  3. says

    I am so inspired by this I want to write..though I feel you have accomplished so much here I feel weak before I even begin. Maureen this is just perfection..so rich and powerful…layers and layers of richness. Just like the fruit. You inspire an attempt. Bravo!!

    • says

      Elizabeth, the wonderful thing about poetry is the infinite variation it inspires, even on the same subject. Mine is just one possibility.

      Thank you for such generous comments!

  4. says

    The Seeds

    White flesh of fruit
    Holds tight to seeds,
    Each bearing drops of ruby juice stored there
    Blood-like bounty, released when
    Bitten by the hungry.
    Savory explosion erupts from sack of seed
    An embolism
    Rushes from the punctured
    Gem, pierced by men whose teeth
    Seek the crimson liquid
    Held in waiting white flesh, tight
    White flesh of fruit.

  5. says

    I like the richness of colors (ruby, blood-like, crimson) that stand out against “white flesh”; also the use of active verbs and nouns (bitten, explosion, erupts, punctured, rushes, pierced), which keep the poem moving. The likening of seed to embolism produces an image hard to shake.

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