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Poetry Magnum Opus

Ivy Day


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Ivy Day


Life thrives amid the bones

this biannual war with ivy

It speaks to me

in clinging saprophytic

tentacled tongue


Of Medusa Cerberus Cthulu and others

a mocking sound rootlet pulled from wood

Holding tightly to the slight rib bone

belonging to an unfortunate fox

our joy to unearth in dry stream bed

on that lost summer day


You’ll never undo the roots

I’ll be back and thrive long

after I have cuddled

your eye socket

pulled these



apart brick by brick

finally finding balance

in the fungus and insect

worlds flourishing beneath

red red sun


The compost smells dark

green today a Druid’s thoughts

passing quickly beneath an urban sky.

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Larsen M. Callirhoe

i have admitted befor that some of your poems are hard for me to grasp. this one i have no idea as to what you're insinuating or reffering to. i will let a few more people read this and respond to it before you answer me. maybe some others comments might help guide me and shed some light as to what you might be suggesting here. i have always liked ready your poetry. they have definently made me think admently think.


victor michel

Larsen M. Callirhoe

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I got the impression you were likening the ivy to weeds. It sent me to Wiki, and I was glad to find that I wasn't all that far off; there's a whole section on "Problems and Dangers" of ivy. I like how you're able to take something as incidental as ivy and roll with it, to look deeper and make a poem.



Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic

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Tony- as always your instincts are dead on- And Larsen Fault is my own- pulling Ivy isn't everyone's shared background!





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Hello DC. The overall tone exuded (to me at least) a humour in the endless struggle of man against the power of nature. The personalizing of this enemy in the form of mythical beasts is excellent. The dead fox was a superb touch along with the voice of the ivy. The last stanza rounds it all off nicely and I thank you for a most entertaining read . Benjamin

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Every spring I am forced by my wife to fight the dreaded invaders, a chore to be endured for later peace. I would just as soon yank out the flowers; why should they be favored? Some things must be done. Enjoyed the mood and images. fdh

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Frank E Gibbard

Loved the entanglements that insinuate your text DC, delicious one and ace metaphor/parable. Frank.

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David W. Parsley

Despite the difficulties (i.e. don't know who the speaker is in stanza 2) and a general sense of not quite finished, I confess that this one works for me, also, coiling back into Lovecraftian sarcophagi of my wasted youth. Perhaps this is just a private projection, but the poem summons more for me than just an early summer day's battle with the ivy. The persisting elemental connection with life and death of wild animals, the quiet malevolence of the ivy sustaining at the fringes of suburbia, snaking back to uneasily retired figures in obsure myths and rites: exemplifies a role for poetry not replaceable by other media.


- Dave

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