Today I picked an acorn from the ground;
lost it laid, a cast-away,
a sentence halfway crushed;
it’s shedded early, shunned by mother oak,
a nut and nothing but still pretending
smooth and brown.
It’s midriff almost open,
a broken shell with bitter flesh exposed,
yet carries in itself
a warmth from summer when still
it was a mother’s … hope.
Sarah hosts poetics at dVerse tonight and she asks us to write a poem in two stages.
1. Take an object in your hand and feel it with all your senses for a couple of minutes.
2. Freewrite about the object for a couple of minutes.
From that you form your poem.
I will also link up to Tuesday Platform at toads
September 25, 2018
Björn Rudbergs writings 
Nice sound in these lines: “a broken shell with bitter flesh exposed,
yet carries in itself” especially between “shell” and “self”.
Well, I don’t think I’ve ever been quite so moved by an acorn.Trees are so profligate with their seeding. I particularly like the phrase “a nut and nothing” – such a powerful pairing.
I think you’ve got to the kernel of the acorn, Bjorn, especially in the lines:
‘It’s midriff almost open,
a broken shell with bitter flesh exposed,
yet carries in itself
a warmth from summer when still
it was a mother’s … hope’.
I enjoyed your write. Thank you for your comment on my post.
The oak trees are casting their babies adrift by bucket-loads. I like your wanderings.
“a broken shell with bitter flesh exposed,
yet carries in itself a warmth from summer when still it was a mother’s hope”… this is so poignant! ❤️
“It’s midriff almost open” – what a beautiful line!
I {heart} this SO much!!!
Our minds plowed similar terrain today; cool. Your ode to an acorn seems a perfect start to my trail journey. You snagged me at /a sentence halfway crushed/. You robbed some squirrel of his sustenance it seems.
Those last two lines are precious.
Interesting prompt. I like your take, Ken – how you familiarize yourself with the acorn.
“yet carries in itself…when still it was a mother’s … hope.” I love the thought of that little shunned acorn still breathing hope. Beautiful Bjorn.
love this, this line especially echoes in my mind: “a sentence halfway crushed;”
Wow, Bjorn. This is such a tightly structured verse — the conciseness makes the image and its metaphor stand out. I loved, “a sentence halfway crushed”. It makes me feel the strength and the warmth that stays even after the fall(both ways).
Interesting! It turned out lovely.
Lovely … with all sorts of meanings and reflections opening out from the original image (the original seed). Great photo, too.
I guess it was a preemie, so sorry it’s little life fell too close to the tree.
Such an interesting point of view…
You really got this one done very well. I like the story of the lost acorn! Mother’s promise of life!
i enjoyed this for the added information on an acorn, don’t have them here. shunned but was a mother’s hope once – an acorn waiting to be useful in some way
I feel the sadness of many children who have fled or fallen due to feeling unwanted. That little nut holds the weight of the world in your poem. It’s no wonder he fell.
This is a thing of beauty.
Wow, now I shall never kick another acorn, but gently move it to the side as to not crush it further.
This is a beautifully melancholy piece that speaks to me about stillborn hopes.
Hope is beautiful that way. Love this Bjorn!
You made me feel very maternal about that small nut. Very cool.
First, beautiful photograph. Second, I love the way you concluded yet left it open ended – as if the potential for life inside (although damaged) has yet to fade away.
Love the last stanza, so personalized. Nice work.
Reblogged this on Go Dog Go Café.
Beautiful and sad – the loss portrayed strongly in the lines ‘a sentence halfway crushed’ and ‘it was a mother’s … hope.’
The Mother Tree of Life. What a wonderful image. Her children do give us hope. (K)