Plant Pot Poems #10 - The wet glass of my window
A poet writes without aim about sadness, finds meaning in a plant.
So this poem is one that I remember writing very clearly. I had the idea of a one-sided dialogue between the lamenting poet and the plant sitting on a window sill. The poem begins somewhat aimlessly and unfocused, but ends with the plant as a grounding and inspiring symbol. The small amount of soil (earth) in the pot is a kind of reminder that we are at our best when both feet are firmly on the ground.
There is a pointless and sad feeling in the poem, and I almost don’t like reading it again! But for me it’s a good reminder that looking at the little things can lead to big realisations. It’s no surprise that I often have to be reminded to “smell the roses”. I also shouldn’t forget to look at the plants, by the window, when it’s raining, and feel all those mystical feelings. Understanding something without even knowing what it is. Starting a sentence and never finishing, expressing myself, is not so one-sided, after all.
A one sided conversation,
can be the worst.
I said everything,
I wanted to say.
But what I got back,
was the empty hand,
the hollow bottle,
the empty glass box,
the cast iron pot
in the rubbish heap,
will someone save it?
put in the work?
remove the rust?
Or is it all over.
Only I seem to care.
Did you hear what I said?
Even on paper,
what we write:
very one sided.
I hope your conversations this week are less one-sided! Here is my poem:
difficult days and nights brought to mind powerfully but strangely soothing too this one