Maybe it Will Grow

Sadness is a thing you carry,
So you can pluck it from your breast,
And plant it in the earth.
Shed a single tear more,
To feed the seed,
And maybe, maybe,
It will grow,
Into something of worth,
Or at least worth loving.

Prompt: from the kind writers over at the pub, dVerse, “Seed” as part of their Quadrille Series (#127)

Advertisement

46 thoughts on “Maybe it Will Grow

    1. Why thank you. To be fair to the poem, the first line I wrote here was, “Shed a single tear more to feed the seed” and it transformed from there. But I agree – “Sadness is a thing you carry” sounds awfully clever, doesn’t it? So heavy, but it always feels like our burden to hear.

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Kind of you to say so! I never know what the results will be, but I’m content with what I produced within the framework I was given. Good fun.

      Like

  1. “Sadness is a thing you carry” made me think of Tim O’Brien’s “The Things They Carried.” I suppose everyone carries such things, but I love the idea of plucking it from your breast to plant it and have something better grow from it. Lovely poem. Thank you for joining us!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I am unfamiliar! I looked it up and it seems interesting, I’ll have to purchase it for my perusal. I have a tendency to think of emotional connections as being physical things – to be cherished, to be discarded, to be forgotten, etc. – so I think that’s where the prompt brought me. Besides, wouldn’t it be nice to have a little garden of our emotions, to grow something worth loving from even our saddest memories?

      Like

    1. Absolutely! It’s a kind idea. Maybe it’s not realistic, and maybe it’s a fool’s thought, a child’s thought, but it’s a nice one all the same.

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you for the kindness and the bright-red heart. I’m not sure I qualify for beautiful, but there’s a charm to this, no? There’s a naivety to this that I can’t quite put my finger on, but I think that’s part of the allure here.

      Like

    1. That’s a kinder thought, isn’t it? That your terrible sadness, the misery that dogs your heels, can be planted gently in the earth, given a last few tears, and maybe provide shade to someone who walks behind you long after you’ve gone.

      Thank you for your absolutely lovely thoughts!

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Ha! I’ll leave that to you, then! Like sadness, I have planted this poem into the cool earth with a sigh and will let it grow – I do not intend to be around to see what sprouts.

        Liked by 1 person

  2. You are very welcome. I always use the bright red heart when reading pieces that truly touch me. I find it the full expression to be beautiful. The imagery it created in my mind as I read it was quite unique and beautiful to me. I truly enjoyed it.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. To use one’s sadness for good. Beautiful.
    When my grandmother died, I spent many months in a dedication of creative energy. It felt just like your words.
    I believe your poem will be one that lingers with me. Thank you.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. There’s a compulsion there, a creative need to expunge the detritus of our sadness. I swear it’s inherent. Thank you for your kind words. My recollections are yours to enjoy.

      Liked by 1 person

  4. There is so much truth in your opening lines, Masa, and I love how your quadrille grew from a word watered with a single tear. So many beautiful poems have grown that way, not least here at the Poets Pub.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Your appraisal of beautiful is far too kind! Thank you all the same. I have spent ages working within a 55-word limit, so restraining from an additional 11 made for a refreshing experience. I will keep one eye out in the Pub for future endeavors, that’s for certain.

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Once upon a time that was my signature style, David. “Allowing room for hope in the depths of sadness” – I could not put it better. How utterly delightful. Thank you for your words friend, I hope you continue to enjoy these myriad recollections.

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Too kind, too kind! There is a natural outpouring, yes, I do not usually struggle with words, but I worry they often lack substance. But your words – and the words of so many others – seem to say I’m wrong in that. Thank you.

      Liked by 1 person

  5. Much to think about here. I’ve had a few sorrows over the years. If I were to think of them in this way, as having planted them, I think it’s fair to say that I walk around them from time to time and assess them from different perspectives.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I love the physicality of the dream. Orchards of sadness, bearing fruit of… maybe soothing nostalgia? It may be bitter, but there’s a sweetness there – so addictive, so dangerous, but harmless in small doses. Thank you for your kind comments.

      Liked by 1 person

    1. I adore “sadness is the seed that plants joy”. Remarkably clever, that. Well worth writing the poem if it brought about your comment, thank you.

      Like

    1. It’ll sprout and bud and remind me it was there in the end. I think that’s where I hope that burying my sadness isn’t the same sort of act as burying a body (figuratively) – the sadness will transform into something else, given time and care. I hope.

      Like

    1. You’re very kind! There is a certain importance to not abandoning sadness – accept it, but don’t cling to it, as well, no? Still, I am lucky that the prompt brought to mind something simple for me. It is nice to respond to so many comments as well – I’m delighted to have yours be on this list.

      Like

    1. Why thank you! I think I commented to someone above that I think much of my poetry is an effort to prove my artistic talents false and still somehow paint without the need of a truly skilled hand. Words make for such malleable imagery. Again, thank you for stopping by – I hope you enjoy my myriad recollections.

      Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s