The bonsai tree
in the attractive pot
could have grown eighty feet tall
on the side of a mountain
till split by lightning.
But a gardener
carefully pruned it.
It is nine inches high.
Every day as he
whittles back the branches
the gardener croons,
It is your nature
to be small and cozy,
domestic and weak;
how lucky, little tree,
to have a pot to grow in.
With living creatures
one must begin very early
to dwarf their growth:
the bound feet,
the crippled brain,
the hair in curlers,
the hands you
love to touch.
End of the poem
15 random poems
- Владимир Британишский – Не избранностью, не особенностью
- Sonnet CXI: O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide by William Shakespeare
- Two Quits And Drum And Elegy Drinkers
- The Old Poet poem – Amy Levy poems | Poems and Poetry
- Василий Тредиаковский – В сем озере бедные любовники
- Morning Song in the Jungle by Rudyard Kipling
- Lament of Mary, Queen of Scots by Robert Burns
- A Study Of Reading Habits by Philip Larkin
- Robert Burns: Johnie Lad, Cock Up Your Beaver:
- vestiges.html
- Robert Burns: My Heart’s In The Highlands:
- Unloved, unmoved by Maria Jastine Golo
- Scented Herbage of My Breast. by Walt Whitman
- Николай Глазков – Дремота обрела права
- Threads of Gold by Ronald G. Auguste
Some external links:
Duckduckgo.com – the alternative in the US
Quant.com – a search engine from France, and also an alternative, at least for Europe
Yandex – the Russian search engine (it’s probably the best search engine for image searches).