Poetry

WEP, OCTOBER 2019 CHALLENGE, BARREN! A HORRIBLE HARVEST, A Poem by Pat Garcia

October harvest

 

 

 

 

 



Barren!

Dried, red, sand,

Layered in its elevation as far as her eyes could see.

Thicker than dark, dried, red, blood,

A color that haunted her.

No flowers,

Not even the heads of weeds sprang through from the dark, red, bloodied ground before her.

 

 

Stripped of its fruitfulness.

Beaten down by the hot red sun,

The land was barren.

Its fertility annihilated.

Listless,

Lifeless

But she could relate.

 

 

Night dreams whispered harshly when she slept,

Vile taunts, hideous laughter at her ludicrous situation.

She waited desperately,

Hoping each night, his seed would finally unite with her seed.

So, she could stop dreaming.

 

 

Stop hearing,

The hatred rasp of the man above her.

Stop seeing,

 The hostile stares of the women in the village.

Stop feeling,

The pit of her isolation.

 

Why?

Was something wrong... with her?

Him, it could not be, he’d said.

His ability to impregnate, he’d never questioned.

Had she tricked him into marrying an infertile womb, he’d asked?

 

 

Barren!

Tears moistened her eyes.

She’d hoped her empty womb would bring forth the fetus he demanded.

Had hoped last month's beating would have been the last,

And she could rest in peace,

If only for nine months.

 

 

Barren, she muttered,

Her head hung low.

What a horrible way to try and bring forth a harvest?

Coerced,

Just like the dried, red, sand,

Which yielded no flowers, no weeds,

Intimidated by the sun.

 

 

Her womb produced no embryo.

 

 

Closing her eyes, she dreaded the upcoming night.

His return,

The scathing words,

The first shove,

The backhand hit,

Her stinging face.

Her plea for mercy.

 

If only she could deliver the first egg,

So, he could marvel at the results of his impartation,

Her beatings would stop.

Her womb could rest from his brutal attacks,

And her barrenness would be no more.

 

 

Shalom aleichem,

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Pat Garcia


WEP Submission - AUGUST 2017 CHALLENGE, REUNIONS, A Poem, by Pat Garcia

 

August Badge
Class Reunion aug 15 2017
Reunions,

A manifestation that time doesn’t stand still,

Ever revealing the plots of our lives that connect

And the plot holes that never did.

Exposing dreams that didn’t stand the test of our faith,

Revealing our folly for foolish thinking,

Which led to dumb occurrences we now regret.

Reunions reunite us and keep us moving on.

 

Are you still the dreamer you once were?

How did the world greet you?

What did you do?

Where have you been?

Questions asked by so many soulful hearts that have missed it all.

Years where dreams have lain in slumber,

Like the embers of dead ashes that have lost their flame.

 

Reunions,

The sound of mighty rushing wind,

Ushered in by hope and expectation,

Shaped by years of experience,

Tamed by patience,

Extolled by the bell of victory,

When determination rings out its win.

The same bell tolls as a bell of sorrow,

As it eulogises its tribute to a life expired. 

 

Are you still the dreamer you once were?

How did the world greet you?

What did you do?

Where have you been?

Questions asked by so many soulful hearts that missed it all.

Years where dreams laid in slumber

Like the embers of dead ashes that lost their flame.

 

Reunions,

An old friend, no longer friendly,

An old arch enemy now a comrade,

A teacher who stood the age of time still there,

A building filled with the ghost cries,

Heartaches

Pleasures,

And disappointments.

A pang of sadness for those who have heard the bugle call,

Whose lives are now recorded;

The final judgment made.

 

Are you still a dreamer?

How does the world greet you?

What do you do?

Where have you been?

Questions asked by so many soulful hearts that miss it all.

Their dreams lay in slumber

Like the embers of dead ashes that have lost their flame.

--- 

 

 

Shalom aleichem,

Photo on 01.08.17 at 11.13Pat Garcia