Fair Warning


Rotting, fermenting
The smell can be appalling
As new life is born

About Ben Naga

The Spirit that graces me with its passing has no name and stems not from thoughts and words, though it gathers them up as it flows, but from feeling.

Posted on January 1, 2018, in Poetry, Senryu and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. 7 Comments.

  1. A butterfly grows
    from a caterpillar that
    knows not its beauty

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I’ve come to like the smell of a compost pile….the womb of beautiful surprises. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    • “the womb of beautiful surprises”

      I feel you have the gem of a fine poem here, Betty, if the inspiration continues.

      Liked by 1 person

      • Thanks, Ben! I appreciate your appreciation of that line. Will see if anything else develops. 🙂 I probably already used up the inspiration in “Compost” and “Mid-Wife” (both re-posted last summer). And there’s another old one which has the word compost in it which I’m re-posting soon. (Synchronicity…) There’s something about that theme that stirs me. Thank you again! 🙂 🌹

        Liked by 1 person

  3. Strangely comforting.

    Liked by 1 person

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