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Diane Hine (25 July 1956)
Poems by Diane Hine : 191 / 190
Demise
Old stone pine under stress
sags on fused backbone,
Pale needled, threadbare dress
tattered bark unsewn,
bald skeletal egress.
All savings withdrawn, spent
and lavishly thrown
with prolific intent,
Profuse burnished cones,
a profligate descent.
Three years in the making,
these cones are slow grown,
Brittle limbs forsaking
bud to overblown,
fecund undertaking.
Flaunt open oil-rich prize,
willingly condone
the azure-winged magpies
collectively flown,
procreation's allies.
Generous, reckless, brash
extravagance prone,
Defiant seeding flash
botanically known
as passing with panache.
Diane Hine
Submitted: Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Edited: Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Poems by Diane Hine : 191 / 190
Poet's Notes about The Poem
The Italian Stone Pine produces cones which take three years to mature. Pine trees often produce more cones when stressed.
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I see a moribund effect ov death, very well depicted, excellent ;)
A beautiful write, often a stressed tree will invest enormous energy in reproduction, it's ultimate goal, in case it is it's last. Pines certainly evolved in slower times and yet demise has been told intricately in this filigree of verse especially the strength of the first two descriptive stanzas.
Interesting, and as always, informative in a delightful way!
If stress produces pine cones, then my garden should be full of them - just jesting Diane, interesting write.
An abstruse yet interesting storyline to de-thread, yet such a work is what makes poetry the most beautifully complex art-form there be and why we continue to write it and why people like me enjoy reading your work! ...~FjR~
I wonder how many people are going to see themselves
in this old pine. I especially liked the ending.