And the Word of the Month word for October is . . .

Hi everyone,

Today marks the sixth anniversary of Word of the Month Poetry Challenge. I propose that we observe the occasion by repeating the original word that kicked off all the fun: DIRT. It was a productive word then and I’m sure it will be again. Here’s my poem from October, 2009. I’ll write a new one this month.

October 2009
Word: Dirt

I liked you the first time we met,
at least I thought I would like you
if I got to know you,
except for your nails.
I couldn’t help noticing
the foul moon-rims of grime
clutching at your cuticles.

The thought occurred that dirt,
which you like enough
to pack at your fingertips,
might have a poem buried in it.

Honestly, I had little hope for my subject.
It’s hard to hold something in high esteem
that one tracks in on one’s shoes.
Only my respect for you kept me going.

Turns out there’s more
than meets the eye with dirt.
Roots slow-motionly wriggling down
like moles in the dark after water
prize off tiny flecks of bedrock.
Mix enough rock parts with humus
and you’re getting somewhere, dirt-wise.

Humus is a dry gumbo,
the handiwork of dentrivores,
a multiracial gang of ruffians, mostly
fungi, worms, bacteria, mites, and insects —
mercenary goblins that dine on decay,
slurping dead plants and animals
till you could easily mistake diner for dinner.

Thanks to dentrivores, not all dirt
tastes the same. But considering
the supply you keep handy,
I may not be telling you something
you don’t know.

When you think about dirt,
and I can’t seem to stop,
dirt provides lodging for a zoo
of creatures that grub, grope, and burrow
through its gritty underworld.

Mixed with water dirt fortifies bird nests and
helps mud daubers stick their homes
in annoying places such as
above my garage door.

By contrast, dust courts the corporate crowd.
Swirling like a truant genie,
dust grants wishes to carwash owners
and supports entire industries
of polish, soap, and facial tissue makers,

but I digress. The thing is, I was right
about liking you in spite of your nails
crammed with limestone powder, worm goo,
and the odd molecule of bee leg or roach
(all in a day’s work for humus).

But I can’t resist suggesting that dirt
should stick with dirt and you might consider
returning your private stash to the garden
or perhaps to a trash sack headed to
the dump. Then, I believe,
at least I hope very much, that
I can put down this thing about dirt
and wipe it off of my worry list.

— David L. Harrison


4 comments on “And the Word of the Month word for October is . . .

    • Hi there! Been out and around in the big world today. Dirt is indeed a swell subject. I hope to see lots of dirty poems posted this month, so to speak.

  1. Dirt

    It doesn’t sing,
    It doesn’t hurt,
    It’s doesn’t love–
    It’s just plain dirt.

    But when it first felt
    downright luminous
    God told the world
    to call it huminous.

    Though somehow then,
    that very day,
    The name got shortened
    in this way:

    Humus, which we all still say.

    (Don’t confuse
    with hummus though.
    Or you will have
    a hard row to hoe.)

    –Jane Yolen ©2015 all rights reserved

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