Comment from Dolly'sPoems

Excellent

I adore the sentiments, and I admire the tenacity of all plants to thrive despite the conditions, a fine Tanka for the contest Steve, love Dolly x x x

 Comment Written 18-Jun-2024

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reply by the author on 19-Jun-2024

Thanks, Dolly.

I like the irony that these warrior plants often seem to thrive more than the bought and paid for variety planted and tended in the best potting mix!

Steve

Comment from tfawcus

Excellent

Defying the odds indeed. It's incredible how tenacious some of these tiny plants can be. Your tanka caused me to reflect on how people proclaim the end of the world when what they really mean is the end of the human race. A strong entry to the contest.

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 Comment Written 18-Jun-2024

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reply by the author on 19-Jun-2024

Thanks, Tony.

I think this poem by Sara Teasdale says it about as well as it can be said...

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows calling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild-plum trees in tremulous white;

Robins will wear their feathery fire
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,
if mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn,
Would scarcely know that we were gone.

Steve

reply by tfawcus on 19-Jun-2024

Exactly. I doubt anyone could say it better.

Comment from Douglas Goff

Excellent

What a sad....no happy.....no dystopia???? viewpoint of our world written into this Tanka.

Reflective in nature. Well done. Good luck in the competition!
D

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 Comment Written 18-Jun-2024

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reply by the author on 19-Jun-2024

Thanks, Douglas.
Replying to reviews on this has reminded me of the following poem by Sara Teasdale which perfectly sums up that Nature is the boss...

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows calling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild-plum trees in tremulous white;

Robins will wear their feathery fire
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,
if mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn,
Would scarcely know that we were gone.

Steve

reply by Douglas Goff on 19-Jun-2024

Very nice indeed!