of acorns


May 14, 2018 by petrujviljoen

poets and vessels –
I dreamed of (London)Derry;
the grove of old oaks

an old oak in the
shadows of Table Mountain
– an acorn drops

an empty clay pot
but for the acorn rolling
off the table top

10 thoughts on “of acorns

  1. merrildsmith says:

    Beautiful–so much in these few words.

  2. AnnIsikArts says:

    You do acorns, I do oak flowers – now that’s what I CALL synchronicity. There is so much in your poem. It may not be what you intend, but I cannot help thinking of breath, a breathing in and a breathing out, at one extremity a mountain swells up, at the other is a flatness and onto the flatness, the potential of form, drops and rolls. I am thinking folklore, and fecundity. Forgive me, it is the middle of the night here. But thank you for all this, intended or not. πŸ™‚

  3. jillys2016 says:

    That which holds things, holds mysteries, holds memories. Holds life-times. Beautiful!

  4. I especially like the third one, but I like all of them – focus on the young and the ageless and things that happen in between.

  5. Julia says:

    wow i love this! awesome

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Available on Amazon

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As the World Burns

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