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Pomegranate: A Poetic Exploration

The poem describes pomegranate trees and their fruit seen in different locations. It focuses on the cracked skin of pomegranates, with the narrator questioning those who would deny or look past the fissure, preferring to see the glittering drops of dawn within the crack. The narrator asserts they prefer their heart to be broken to see the dawn-like beauty inside the rupture.

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190 views2 pages

Pomegranate: A Poetic Exploration

The poem describes pomegranate trees and their fruit seen in different locations. It focuses on the cracked skin of pomegranates, with the narrator questioning those who would deny or look past the fissure, preferring to see the glittering drops of dawn within the crack. The narrator asserts they prefer their heart to be broken to see the dawn-like beauty inside the rupture.

Uploaded by

21rayhanf
Copyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
Available Formats
Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd

Pomegranate

BY D. H. LAWRE NCE

You tell me I am wrong.


Who are you, who is anybody to tell me I am wrong?
I am not wrong.

In Syracuse, rock left bare by the viciousness of Greek women,


No doubt you have forgotten the pomegranate trees in flower,
Oh so red, and such a lot of them.

Whereas at Venice,
Abhorrent, green, slippery city
Whose Doges were old, and had ancient eyes,
In the dense foliage of the inner garden
Pomegranates like bright green stone,
And barbed, barbed with a crown.
Oh, crown of spiked green metal
Actually growing!

Now, in Tuscany,
Pomegranates to warm your hands at;
And crowns, kingly, generous, tilting crowns
Over the left eyebrow.

And, if you dare, the fissure!

Do you mean to tell me you will see no fissure?


Do you prefer to look on the plain side?

For all that, the setting suns are open.


The end cracks open with the beginning:
Rosy, tender, glittering within the fissure.

Do you mean to tell me there should be no fissure?


No glittering, compact drops of dawn?
Do you mean it is wrong, the gold-filmed skin, integument,
shown ruptured?

For my part, I prefer my heart to be broken.


It is so lovely, dawn-kaleidoscopic within the crack.

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