Tuesday, 13 November 2007

Seedhead of the Globe Artichoke

Turn your spiked head
to the sun. Your thorny ruff
a blighted scarf,
your skull a follower
of the sun, your scaly throat
a cougher of seeds

to catch what slim dirigible
of wind. Light
as sun rays, yet weighed
by gravity
to never be quite air.
Blonde granary

of next season's shoots.
Fair-headed seed-stash.
You prowl, lioness
of the jungle we call a garden,
down a bank,
under telephone wires.

You are an artillery, your force,
nature's clock; the one you set
your range finder on
to find the angle of depression,
the bearings, the co-ordinates.
Fire! Disperse.

Kay McKenzie Cooke


Endment said...

!!!! You did it again
Keep the camera and the pen working!

paris parfait said...

I love this poem - so powerful! Even without the photo, your words paint the picture. Brilliant!

Mrs. G. said...

Perfect picture for this rowdy little poem.

Shameless Words said...

The picture didn't download on my screen, but boy the poem did the job so well that I didn't need the image. Very evocative! :-)

Ceridwen said...

This is exquisite. Oh the economy of language, how much work each word does. The overall effect is marvelous. I love, love, triple love it.

Catherine said...

Beautiful - I especially love the word "dirigible"

Marie said...

What an amazing gift you have - to convey so much in so few words.

chiefbiscuit said...

endment - Thanks my friend - you too1

pp - I'm glad you like it - your warm appreciation is appreciated in return. Merci!

mrs g - I like that ... 'rowdy little poem' ...

shameless - I wonder why the picture didn't download? But glad the words did at least.

ceridwen - Thank you - I am basking!!!

Catherine - Thank you - it's a great word isn't it? Language is such fun.

Marie - Thank you so much. Writing is the winner - or poetry, I guess.

Rethabile said...


What detail!


'how this all harbours light'