A Poem by Moonie

~Inspired from Frida's painting Henry Ford Hospital ~


The vineyard swells 
with sweet reproduction, 
stem cells wafting 
in the green boughs, 
inescapable, and springy 
like March's hysterical 
bug hum. 
The foggy ghosts of trees, 
standing sentinel 
in the stillness of the early hour, 
sketched out 
leaf by leaf 
by an artist's fecund imagination 
the kind of imagination
that lets us name the graves 
of unborn infants. 
Under dawn's wry red light, 
I roam amongst 
the meandering lanes 'tween 
the tangled vines
of full grapes, 
spying on the butterflies: 
the vibrant angels of death 
who shall steal away 
the essence from the blooms, 
leaving them barren and old.

© 2020 Moonie

Author's Note

The image is an illustration by Owen Gent.

My Review

Would you like to review this Poem?
Login | Register


This is a such a good piece Moonie. We don't see you often but when you do visit you certainly make a mark. The graves of the unborn infants so very dear to me.


Posted 11 Months Ago

I cannot get over the allegory used in this one. Simply outstanding.

Posted 11 Months Ago

Damn. You are nasty good at writing. Outstanding command.

And putting the image to the left, nice touch.

I'm a fan.

Posted 11 Months Ago

again, simply brilliant allegory...the cells, the unborn infants...the blooms ready to reproduce torn to pieces and made sterile, unhappy and sooner or later just wilted with nothing to show for their lives.

Posted 11 Months Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


4 Reviews
Shelved in 1 Library
Added on July 12, 2020
Last Updated on July 13, 2020
Tags: Vineyard, spring, infertility, miscarriage, women, woman, sad



If you're a dreamer, come in If you're a dreamer, a wisher, a liar A hope er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer, If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire For we have some flax-golden tales to spin .. more..

Libra Libra

A Poem by Moonie

Apothecary Apothecary

A Poem by Moonie