Green Grass
Green Grass
It is the green grass,
The green grass
That captures my eye
And grows in my mind.
It is the green grass,
The green grass
That spreads like a weed
And kills all the flowers.
It is the green grass,
The green grass
That has morning dew,
Which flows through my eyes.
It is the green grass,
The green grass
That I run after,
Chasing blindly
With ragged breath
And wild heartbeat
As it recedes
At my touch.
What repulsion
This green grass,
Green grass feels.
So I catch it now
And sew it in my words.
I make a running stitch,
My words are a needle
And this green grass,
Green grass is the thread.
You,
Green grass, green grass,
How will you escape from
This poem?
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Categories: Poems
God! How do you do that? There are such beautiful imageries here…perfection…each word almost sewn into a fabric of completion…I cant find any critique…or maybe im not able to be judgemental here…so…to be on the safe side:
9.5/10
this is fantastic!
You’ve done well with the repetition, the green grass till the end becomes so ‘green’ that the reader really thinks how will it ever end? I really liked the end of the poem, its like saying exactly wat the reader feels!
Your poem also has a rythem to it, probably because of the illiteration of ‘g’. A job well done
ok…the second comment from usman “this is fantastic” was actually me…
tee hee…
i like it. the end is great. impactful. i dig.