April 15, 2011

• ElectricPoetry: A Chlorophylled Life

  

  "A Chlorophylled Life"
  Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
  4/15/11 7:00am pdt

  As the springtide arrives, so does the leaf:
  this recent birth of life from an ancient tree

  Small coiled tendil, fragile, translucent green
  At the end of the branch, life where there was none before
  A mottled still brown with a vibrant emerald presence attached.

  Silver veins surge with a symphony of power
  The small tender leaf begins to unfurl
  As if in slow motion, this new life breathes
  Strong winds, sudden rainfall, nothing stops her
  singular path toward fulfillment

  From diaphanous burgeoning beginnings
  edges now serrated in synchronous symbolism
  the tiny branchlike veins reaching out across
  the verdant countryside of her landscape,
  the leaf uncoils to her bounteous exultant beauty

  The spring may soon pass
  but the leaf remains, in place, in command, in
  righteous indignation against all odds
  flapping about wildly in the breeze

  In time she is joined by similar shining new leaves
  sprouting
  from the branches in wave after wave
  of malachite colored ecstasy

  Where a few months before
  only twigs stick out in space
  Now hundreds of brothers and sisters
  abound, rippling with the wind
  surging in the sun

  Throughout the summer
  the leaf grows
  thickening with this chlorophylled life
  gaining sustenance
  from the ancient tree
  whose roots troll the ground
  and whose branches reach to the sky
  providing the leaf with the
  grace of the sunlight

  As summer passes into the fall,
  the once supple leaf begins to show cracks
  in her surface
  She breathes a little less fulsome
  Her edges are a bit more serrated
  her color becomes darker with age

  For the tree, these passing of seasons
  are hardly noticed
  The tree remains in place, spring after spring
  summer after summer
  heralding the beginning of the end when fall arrives

  Slowly, seemingly without warning,
  but in a story which plays out every year,
  the soft green glow of the leaf fades to brown
  Edges which once were sharp now crackle
  inwards
  The rich thick stem becomes a bit unsteady
  and the flow of chlorophyll begins to
  flow less steadily
  from a river
  into a trickle of life
  and such is the trick of this life

  Winter is on the horizon
  Cold winds sear into the now dark brown skin of the leaf
  Her aged veins hardly contain her
  Her withered stem cannot hold her for long
  Rains which two seasons ago were
  life giving showers now mock her
  attempting to sever the bond which holds her
  to mother tree.

  Eventually, weather's erratic behavior
  and time's ever constant stamina
  are no match for the fragile stem which
  attaches the leaf to her food supply

  It takes only a small moment
  A sideways glance into cosmic certainty
  A sliver of the Universal endurance
  The breeze now a twisting zephyr
  The rain now a pounding torrent

  The elements cut the umbilical quickly
  and the leaf begins it's one and only
  flight
  down,
  free from the tree of life which sustained her
  free from the bonds of existence.

  The leaf sails unheeded to the ground
  cracked and brittle
  one of a thousand in a pile
  compost for the heap

  leaving existence in the wind
  

  ---

  BEHIND THE POETRY: The very first poem I ever wrote was in 1967, when I was in junior high. It is called "A Cholorophyll Filled Death" and is a metaphorical view of life from the perspective of a leaf, blowing in the wind. Although the poem itself (linked from the title) isn't very good, it is apt that even at the age of 14, I was more philosophical than most of my peers. I rewrote the poem as a depressive view of suicide in 1971 as "Depresson II". I've always wanted to rewrite it again, which prompts today's poem. It's National Poetry month and this is the only poem I've written so far this month. As the years pass, my muse seems to call less often. But hopefully what I lack in quantity of output, I make up for in quality. I am satisfied to know that I'm still writing poetry (and even writing the same poem, thematically) after all these seasons. (The photo was taken from a websearch and is not one of mine.) MFN/ppf

  • 11:02 am
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