Bumper Crop

by Chani Zwibel / May 20th, 2018

Silver are the seeds in the garden of pain.
Red are the blossoms bursting great with gain.
Lead are the seeds in the garden of death.
Surplus for the rich and dust for the rest.
Piercing are the seeds in the garden of woe.
Crimson claret tinged nectar, we reap what we sow.
Iron are the seeds in the garden of loss.
Lives bought for pennies, but never mind the cost.
Every year fresh soil promises a crop,
Blood-irrigated surplus of endless stock.

Chani Zwibel is a graduate of Agnes Scott College, a poet, wife and dog-mom who was born and raised in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, but now dwells in Marietta, Georgia. She enjoys writing poetry after nature walks and daydreaming. Read other articles by Chani.

This article was posted on Sunday, May 20th, 2018 at 8:01am and is filed under Poetry.