Word Not World Series

Ep. 6: Persephone and Pomegranates

Welcome back to the Word Not World Series, where we write poetry based off of art, the perfect pairing. For this session, our “muse” was this oil painting:

(Found on Pinterest, artist unknown)

I absolutely love this piece. It is so dark and romantic with the composition of colors and the pairing of the pomegranate with the arrow driven through it. Did Persephone fall in love with Hades because she was a victim of Cupid’s bow? Maybe not, but it could definitely inspire a story like that, or, poetry like those compiled below.

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Spring Underground

(Word: Persephone)

I think she knew what the pomegranate seeds meant as she stared at them in the palm of her hands, six dots as bright as blood, or rubies, the price to pay when it comes to saving herself from the rake of her mother’s “cultivation”.

She dropped each seed down her throat,

sewing spring into the Underworld,

to bloom uninterrupted by winter.

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Love blind

(Word: Pierced)

Is Cupid blind because he cannot stand seeing love hurt people?

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Worship

(Words: Contentment)

This body isn’t a temple, it is a miracle that must be worshipped every day by the freckles, the bolts of stretch marks, the gaps in teeth, the lisps of poetry they speak

the silver hairs that have threaded themselves into my crown,

the scars on cheeks, because not everyone gets to see this.

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Picnic

(Word: Snack)

We are at the top of the food chain but ingesting the poison

we made to make life easier,

by the grass blade, the bug, the bird,

the flowers, the bees, the honey

sardines packed so neatly in the toy car I found in the sea,

preservatives, plastics, pesticides,

oh how mighty are we,

Puritans abstaining from the corruption of dirt,

we forgot we were made by clay,

and we are crumbling from the weight of our crown.

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Physical Therapy

(Word: Torn)

My brain knows that this pain is pain,

my heart is beating itself up,

my body hopes this will make it stronger,

you have torn me apart.

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Alchemy of Humanity

(Words: Forbidden and nectar)

I partook in the forbidden fruit,

delved into soft pulp, and felt the parcel dissolve on my tongues

like the wafers that will evaporate in the mouths of church patrons,

the nectar flooded my senses like those of the men that have their heads dipped into the river by the hands of someone named Rabbi -

Recollection tests me, I know these men, clean faced, bright eyed -

but Eve is sleeping alone under the tree - who can these people be?

Their names are whispers on the wind,

the hairs on the back of my neck raising,

why are they scrubbing their skin,

why do they laugh around the table,

and one left

as Rabbi spoke,

the nectar is venom in my throat,

blood pounds in my ears -

Why do you cry, Adam?

Because - it’s my fault.

Is it?

Yes.

Adam, you were made to be human,

so you were human.

My Lord,

What will happen to that boy? To-

I have made humans in my eyes,

and they must have their own destiny.

In my destiny,

we left Eden,

for we were humans,

and in our humanity we were naive to the imbalances

we made until we saw the hurt,

and we walked the path

for the men I still saw in my head,

as stark as shadows across the walls of canyons,

and I just hope that I didn’t lead them to fall too many times.

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Thank you so much for joining me on this week’s session of Word Not World Series, if you would like to join on the next session, they are every Saturday on Instagram @enis.st.sparrow.