The Architecture of a Moment
Notes: Rooted in the oldest English tradition, Anglo-Saxon accentual verse follows the rhythm of breath and heartbeat rather than syllable or rhyme, where meaning is carried by cadence, image, and pause.
The Architecture of a Gardener (Accentual Verse)
I am no dreamer
polishing lies,
nor doom-filled soul
rooting in grief.
I am the one
who knows the mud,
thick winter ground,
cold, black, and deep.
No bloom grows clean;
it needs the rot,
the soaking dark,
the stubborn push.
Mud is the partner,
silent, stern.
The stem must climb
through grit to light.
So let rain fall,
let earth turn muck.
I plant my truth
in storm and flood.
The Architecture of a Gardener (Long Form)
I am no naïve optimist,
polishing the world with a soft cloth
until it shines
with a liar’s light.
And I am no
gloom-and-doom pessimist,
planting flags
at the root of despair.
I am the gardener who knows
with certainty
that without the thick, cold mud,
without decay,
the soaking,
the dark,
there are no flowers.
Mud is not the enemy of bloom;
it is its silent, demanding partner.
The stem must fight through grime
to understand the sun.
So let the rain fall.
Let the ground turn to muck.
I am not in denial of the storm.
I planted
my stubborn, green truth
in its deluge.
Written for Writers’ Digest Poem-a-Day Challenge, prompt word optimist and/or pessimist. Poems/prose, some AI/images ©Misky 2006-2025.

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