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Poetry

Fruit Bowl

This poem was completely spur of the moment; an attempt to see what would happen if I put pen to paper and just wrote about something in a metaphorical way. In this case, it is about life, the way we live, what we’re doing, etc. On top of this — although it’s not literal — it’s more about joining the real world and taking that leap from being alone to taking action and how that can be fruitful, but at the  same time, be a completely abstract poem in itself.

Sitting at the edge,

feet dangling,

Swinging as you

sing

Around the silver, metal rim of the bowl.

Dancing round

apples, pears, bananas, nectarines, mangoes, grapes

People lean back to look up

at your face.

You stare,

ever so slightly at the fruit,

Colours, textures, flavours,

in its dome.

Alone.

something needs to be done.

You make movements,

cautious, slowly,

Without haste.

You’re too scared to jump, too scared

of an unknown taste;

Dreading the fall

instead

Sliding, stopping, a drop and a roll.

This whole thing

is like a fruit bowl and

there is nothing,

no living

Without leaping in.

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