Pretense of acorn

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

31 responses to “Pretense of acorn

  1. 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.

  2. 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’.

  3. “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! ❤️

  4. 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.

  5. “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.

  6. 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).

  7. 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

  8. 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.

  9. 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.

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