The bonsai tree
in the attractive pot
could have grown eighty feet tall
on the side of a mountain
till split by lightning.
But a gardener
carefully pruned it.
It is nine inches high.
Every day as he
whittles back the branches
the gardener croons,
It is your nature
to be small and cozy,
domestic and weak;
how lucky, little tree,
to have a pot to grow in.
With living creatures
one must begin very early
to dwarf their growth:
the bound feet,
the crippled brain,
the hair in curlers,
the hands you
love to touch.
End of the poem
15 random poems
- Lines written on a Bank-note by Robert Burns
- Lyric of Love to Leah poem – Aleister Crowley poems | Poetry Monster
- Dans le Restaurant by T. S. Eliot
- silence.html
- Владимир Высоцкий – Мне скулы от досады сводит
- Something by Robert Creeley
- The Net Of Memory
- What the Sexton Said by Vachel Lindsay
- Огюст Барбье – Ни кротостью, ни негой ясной
- Низами Гянджеви – Лица серебряный овал в сиянье покажи
- The O’Rahilly by William Butler Yeats
- In Memory Of My Mother by Patrick Kavanagh
- On Time poem – John Milton poems
- Oh, Is It Love? poem – Amy Levy poems | Poems and Poetry
- Sonnet VI. To G. A. W. poem – John Keats poems
Some external links:
Duckduckgo.com – the alternative in the US
Quant.com – a search engine from France, and also an alternative, at least for Europe
Yandex – the Russian search engine (it’s probably the best search engine for image searches).
