Poetry Is A Plough Poem by Dorit Tweig

Poetry is a plough
That penetrates the rocky ground
of perception,
Plows fresh paths
through it,
Conceals withered summer crops
Under the surface,
Flattens it into a submissive,
even ground, then
Renders it a stranger to its own visage,
That was so familiar once …


Yet,
Poetry
Is more of a
Peasant –
Once more, it sows ideas
And gently lingers on…
Then plants answers
to questions
Our minds
will never
cease to muse upon.
And all the while,
it waters erratic soils,
and ungrateful souls,
with countless
fine-print tears.