Wednesday, December 2, 2009


RWP#103....the prompt this week was the pomegranate.


I met her on that night train

in Siberia

I didn't know her but I liked her

the legend amongst the crates

at the back of the dining car

beside two heavy set women

playing poker


I didn't know her but I liked her

sitting on a silver platter

beside a bowl of purple juice

hanging from some ancient garden

like some lost child in exhile

beside a huge machette knife


tring to escape death from the underworld

searching for the fog of unshed tears


from bombs

cold rain and cable TV

defering the rifts of time

holding on to her ancient seeds of truth

her tough skin

crimson pulp without fiction

her tart flavour

her colour

her poetic stories

of gone but not forgotten pomegranates

I didn'know her but I liked her.


anthonynorth said...

And I liked the treatment here. Great imagery.

Anonymous said...

Your poetry consistantly betrays your adventurous side. Wayne believe you are a secret agent man at heart. I enjoy the journey in your poetry. In this poem I am still choking on the nausiating Russian cigarettes. Thanks for the trip. By the way, I liked her too. Babuska darlin'.

Anonymous said...

Yeah, who wouldn't like her?
The dining car and poker especially.

Paul Oakley said...

like some lost child in exhile
beside a huge machette knife
tring to escape death from the underworld

Persephone as the pomegranate. What a delightful interpretation! And such atmosphere on the Siberian train...

James said...

I love the play on words in "crimson pulp without fiction" as well as the sentiment of not knowing her but liking her. Really enjoyed it.

rallentanda said...

I like the feeling of the orient express train and the pomegranate being synonymous with the mysterious woman that you fancy.

Randy B. said...

Nice work. The treatment of the pomegranate was good, in general, but I was especially drawn in by the unexpected (and cleverly described) setting. Well done!

Anonymous said...

She sounds so mysterious! And who doesn't love a train in the mix.

Francis Scudellari said...

It's hard not to like her, and this poem, its imagery and the catchy rhythms.

Jeeves said...

Even I like her

Linda said...

Pomegranates arrive here on trains from mysterious places so for me the context works very well. I love your imagery and hesitancy to commit to sampling the temptation. Thank you for crafting this and taking me for a ride with the "Seedy Lady", Wayne.

Tumblewords: said...

crimson pulp without fiction - a fine line, among many. The imagery is wonderful and the repetition makes this piece sing.

Anonymous said...

I like the play on words in the title, and throughout ("tart flavor"), how the narrator develops a relationship as witness, but at the end respects the limits of his distance.

Jill Zaheer said...

Beautiful poem- in tempo and in it's fruitful, playful rendering of an invitation to it's ruby red insides. Love your poem to create a beautiful painting of words.

Erin Davis said...

Oh, I want to ride on that train with you!

Anonymous said...

haha -- "I didn't know her but I liked her."
yep, I kinda think you would!

nice job, Wayne. enjoyed it!