Indian Mango
The Nonet. Poetry, Day Nine.
I very much wanted to create a series of nonet, a nine-line poem of descending syllabic count, that recalled themes of nature, my childhood, and my fast-fading recollection of the accurate details of this seemingly idyllic chapter in my life.
At the end of a four day period, no other subject presented itself, save one. An enduring memory of summers spent finding shelter and companionship below the giving shade of a stout, fruit-laden mango tree. Below, I offer up a paired nonet of this seeming fond recollection.
What does our brain do to cope with life, to handle grief and hardship, to temper our excitement over joys that are likely to be fleeting. Do we arrive at a certain point where we do ourself a kindness, and tell a story of ourself, many versions of a story of ourself that we can smile at and nod, and say, “yes, weren’t those wonderful times?”
As children, we did not want to sit
Still, find refuge beneath the tree.
Yet we obeyed, begrudging,
Peeled bark from its petite
Trunk to scoop ants who
Bore pandesal
On their backs
To bring
Home
Fruit bright, like newly beating hearts hung
Above our heads. We ignored them.
We sought out the ones in their
Last stages of green, our
Eyes closed, mouths puckered
Imagining
Slices dipped
In shrimp
Paste
About the Creator
Tricia De Jesus-Gutierrez (Phynne~Belle)
Poet Organizer of Phynnecabulary and Co-Director at the Poetry Global Network. Has too many cats and dogs a-plenty. Enjoys karaoke way too much. https://linktr.ee/phynnebelle/
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