*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1563173-Trash1-after-the-melt
Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Community · #1563173
24 items collected May 13th and mused about. Written in a hour. Edited over days.
Note: This work has been made into a chapbook which is available by sending an email to me with an address (don't put personal info in a comment). There are 100 signed copies. When I run out, I may or may not run a second edition with revisions.

Any comments as to which are favorites and which need major work (I know a couple myself *Rolleyes*) are appreciated.

1 after the melt

Brown leaf leather,
worn and crinkled,
torn tips,
five points equaling a maple
that survived the winter,
would not have survived the mold of Spring.
It sits in my palm.
It does not quiver.

2 a heart too small for the Tin Man

A shepherd's purse
blooms in a crack,
sets seed in heart shaped capsules
too small for the Tin Man.

3 empty lungs

Parliament Lights
with recessed filters,
a blue-on-white crushed box.
Foil glints silver,
an empty lining,
no cloud of smoke.

4 cotton-not-candy

Lint blown from the laundry:
felted blue magma, white sun, brown thread
hides a swirl of red,
a dry soft clump,
no blood.

5 blossoms

Apple
greets the bicycles:
white petals and yellow stamens,
fragrant spokes
that survived yestermorn's cold
will set fruit
in the warmth of tomorrow's sun.

6 after the pollination

A tulip petal clings to its stem,
tattered red,
black at its base
its usefulness spent.
I gently remove its bruised silk finger.
I do not snap its head.

7 does it know yet?

Cedar
pruned and tossed,
fragrant reminder of what remains evergreen,
even past its passing.

8 death of innocence

I pluck a newborn mapleleaf,
soft and silky to the touch,
so thin, translucent.

Yet, once severed from the branch
no more alive
than last Fall's golden carpet.

9 used symbols

2 red, 1 blue, 1 grey

A series of numbers, colors
meaning something to someone.

0491 297

On a torn piece of paper,
enigma to me.

10 there are thousands of others

Dandelion seed and maple blossoms
rest on the back of an ivy leaf
the fertile, the infertile and the evergreen
meet the same fate.

11 too big... as usual

Black belt,
inscribed metal buckle:
Georgia.
Say it!
Like any old belt...
it can't sing.

12 can you light the way to San José?

Freedom lights the way,
"strike gently" say
these matches manufactured
in New Hampshire.

"Thank-you"
"come back again"
to Jaffrey (west of Nashua?).
"close cover"
to not torch this empty parking lot?

13 not so popular

Young
Ivy:
poplar poser,
smooth, green,
waxy.

Ah...

Those of us who know you
know your stealth and smother.

14 lobed brown leaf

It could be oak;
it could be...
Away from its mother,
does it matter?
It had its day...
then flew away.

15 balm of lonely times

Blintex lip ointment...
whose lips it touched did not touch mine.

16 pencil it in

"Write solutions"
it proclaims on a bright yellow stick;
broken now,
even the eraser crumbles.

17 pick it up or leave it

A shiny Lincoln,
a 1995 D cent,
is it worth the risk
of straining my back
or wrenching my neck?

18 lid without eye

This worn plastic...
if swept away to the river,
how far would it travel?
if put in the trash,
how long to its death?

19 Caplug

Black plastic
born in Buffalo
...just like me...
now both of us broken,
transported,
abandoned in Montana,
of little use, you see.

20 Johnny, jump me

Indigo silk,
a purple streak
guiding wings to the bright yellow center:
hidden stamens,
green pistil,
waiting
womb.

21 like me

Brown scunci,
dirty but still flexible,
usable,
beneath being missed...

22 ...or like this bobby pin

pinched, poked and prodded,
a relic of lifetime's neglect.

23 to be singular

Brass nozzle
gleaming like gold,
yet unattached...
of what worth are you?

24 or co-dependent

A smoked cigarette.
Parliament.
Like someone we all know...
burnt,
not quite to the end.

Cento for Trash

after the melt:
I gently remove its bruised silk finger
felted blue magma, white sun, brown thread,
dirty but still flexible
like any old belt
away from its mother
poplar poser
a series of numbers, colors,
the fertile, infertile and the evergreen,
burnt,
no cloud of smoke.

Trash.1 after the melt:

a series of short quips
recorded by staring at trash
picked up in Missoula on the
13th of May, in the block of
Higgins, Spruce, Pattee and Pine.

© Kåre Enga 2009

Kåre Enga, Box 9036, Missoula, MT 59807; enga@ymail.com

Printed in Montana

Notes:
1-3 [166.53.a,b,c]
4-6 [166.54.a,b,c]
7-9 [166.55.a,b,c]
10-12 [166.56.a,b,c]
13-17 [166.57.a,b,c,d,e]
18-24 [166.58.a,b,c,d,e,f,g]

Before the edit:

1 after the melt

Brown leaf leather,
worn and crinkled,
torn tips,
five points equaling a maple
that survived the winter,
would not have survived the mold of Spring.
It sits in my palm.
It does not quiver.

2 a heart too small for the Tin Man

A shepherd's purse
blooms in a crack,
sets seed in heart shaped capsules
too small for the Tin Man.

3 empty lungs

Parliament Lights
with recessed filters,
a blue-on-white crushed box.
Foil glints silver,
an empty lining,
no cloud of smoke.
4 cotton-not-candy

Lint blown from the laundry:
felted blue magma, white sun, brown thread
hides a swirl of red,
a dry soft clump,
no blood.

5 blossoms

Apple
greets the bicycles:
white petals and yellow stamens,
fragrant spokes
that survived yestermorn's cold
will set fruit
in the warmth of tomorrow's sun.

6 after the pollination

A tulip petal clings to its stem,
tattered red,
black at its base
its usefulness spent.
I gently remove its bruised silk finger.
I do not snap its head.


7 does it know yet?

Cedar
pruned and tossed,
fragrant reminder of what remains evergreen,
even past its passing.

8 death of innocence

I pluck a newborn mapleleaf,
soft and silky to the touch,
so thin, translucent.

Yet, once severed from the branch
no more alive
than last Fall's golden carpet.

9 used symbols

2 red, 1 blue, 1 grey

A series of numbers and colors
meaning something to someone.

0491 297

On a torn piece of paper,
enigma to me.

10 there are thousands of others

Dandelion seed and maple blossoms
rest on the back of an ivy leaf
the fertile, the infertile and the evergreen
meet the same fate.

11 too big... as usual

Black belt,
inscribed metal buckle:
Georgia.
Say it!
Like any old belt...
can it sing?

12 can you light the way to San José?

Freedom lights the way,
"strike gently" say
these matches manufactured
in New Hampshire.

"Thank-you"
"come back again"
to Jaffrey (west of Nashua?).
"close cover"
to not torch this empty parking lot?

13 not so popular

Young
Ivy:
poplar poser,
smooth, green,
waxy.

Ah...

Those of us who know you
know your stealth and smother.

14 lobed brown leaf

It could be oak;
it could be...
Away from its mother,
does it matter?
It had its day...
then flew away.

15 balm of lonely times

Blintex lip ointment...
whose lips it touched did not touch mine.

16 pencil it in

"Write solutions"
it proclaims on a bright yellow stick;
broken now,
even the eraser crumbles.

17 pick it up or leave it

A shiny Lincoln,
a 1995 D cent,
is it worth the risk
of straining my back
or wrenching my neck?

18 lid without eye

This worn plastic...
if swept away to the river,
how far would it travel?
if put in the trash,
how long would it live?

19 Caplug

Black plastic
born in Buffalo
...just like me...
now both of us broken,
transported,
abandoned in Montana,
of little use, you see.

20 Johnny, jump me

Indigo silk,
a purple streak
guiding wings to the bright yellow center:
hidden stamens,
green pistil,
waiting
womb.

21 like me

Brown scunci,
dirty but still flexible,
usable,
beneath being missed...

22 ...or like this bobby pin

pinched, poked and prodded,
a relic of some woman's neglect.

23 to be singular

Brass nozzle
gleaming like gold,
yet unattached...
of what worth are you?

24 or co-dependent

A smoked cigarette.
Parliament.
Like someone we all know...
burnt,
not quite to the end.

Cento for Trash

after the melt:
I gently remove its bruised silk finger
felted blue magma, white sun, brown thread,
dirty but still flexible
like any old belt
poplar poser
away from its mother
a series of numbers and colors,
the fertile, infertile and the evergreen,
burnt,
no cloud of smoke.
© Copyright 2009 Kåre Enga, P.O. 22, Blogville (enga at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1563173-Trash1-after-the-melt