012: Fertile

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This poem is inspired by the “Great Harvest.” The “Great Harvest” is my imaginative way of looking in a fruitful garden, with all its delectable fruits, sweet-smelling flowers, luscious vegetables, and all kinds of natural delicacies. I try to infuse a broken-hearted sense in my poem to make it more interesting.

XII

FERTILE

And darling, O! The winds are there

Come! Take me to an orchard, quick!

Strike me a scent of love affair

For thy heart’s longing, tired, and sick

She’s all alone; her heart’s gone pale

Give me, at once! Three cups of wine

Let’s drink to love! To sorrow’s tale

Depression hath brought my decline

O darling! Smell the orchard’s fruits

Her love has stain’d vanilla beans

Her honeydew enticed thy roots

To bitter ends, like salad greens

Dama de Noche! Hear thy cry!

Thy heart was sworn to her own grave

Thy cup has aged; thy wine is dry

O Castor’s draught! D’sire is brave!

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