First, here’s a version (not the same one I posted on the challenge, and nowhere near the final version) of the “real” plant poem (real as opposed to silliness)
The ginkgo effaces itself
on a suburban lawn
dropping golden fans in the autumn
and stinking seeds in the spring.
It stretches across the paradox and
Lives without change
Just as it did
in hidden forests
at the birth of Christ
and moments in which the Buddha passed from
nirvana. Moses split the Red Seas.
The ginkgo lived sliding through
The slipstreams of time and
never got wet.
It comes to its life again
from a blackened tree-stump
on the steps of blasted
temples in reborn Hiroshima
as if the bomb were nothing more than
the lightning that frightened
Day 8 just didn’t do a thing for me – the prompt was the title “Should [insert something here]” but unfortunately he mentioned the Clash and every time I try to think about the prompt, I start hearing those 9 quick cords from “should i stay or should i go?” which block out all rational thought. Or any thought at all, really. So still working on that.
Today’s (Day 9) was to write about something slippery. I came up with this cute little thang:
She catches his voice
and slippery as an eel,
her heart slides throat-ward.