
Like leaves on the
forest floor, some
are just there, some
are exquisite -
all of them
make our common soil richer.
When I was walking in a big park the other day, one that resembles a small forest, I was looking at textures. From tree trunks, from moss, and from the leaves on the ground. The last one intrigued me. It's just a pile of fallen leaves discarded by the trees and nobody cares enough about them to pick them up. But when you zoom in, you can see that each leaf is unique. With its own intricate patterns and shapes and colours. Zoom out again a little and you can see them lying there, layered on top of eachother, year after year. And these layers slowly morph into a fertile top layer of the soil. One that feeds the forest.
It reminded me of my poems. Sometimes, when I send them out in the world, it feels like I send them out like a tree letting go of its leaves. And when you see them lying on the floor, you will find they all look very similar. A bit mundane even. But if you zoom in, you'll see that each is different. Some are indeed mundane, and maybe a bit bland, but some are very intricate, and powerful, and inspiring.
All of them together, though - I hope they form a very fertile top soil for you to grow your own unique world view from.
If you like the topsoil that the poems in this weekly newsletter form, please show your enthusiasm by buying me a cup of coffee or sending me a monthly supply of three cups through my hypersub.
Watch this bite-sized documentary about the forest floor

Like leaves on the
forest floor, some
are just there, some
are exquisite -
all of them
make our common soil richer.
When I was walking in a big park the other day, one that resembles a small forest, I was looking at textures. From tree trunks, from moss, and from the leaves on the ground. The last one intrigued me. It's just a pile of fallen leaves discarded by the trees and nobody cares enough about them to pick them up. But when you zoom in, you can see that each leaf is unique. With its own intricate patterns and shapes and colours. Zoom out again a little and you can see them lying there, layered on top of eachother, year after year. And these layers slowly morph into a fertile top layer of the soil. One that feeds the forest.
It reminded me of my poems. Sometimes, when I send them out in the world, it feels like I send them out like a tree letting go of its leaves. And when you see them lying on the floor, you will find they all look very similar. A bit mundane even. But if you zoom in, you'll see that each is different. Some are indeed mundane, and maybe a bit bland, but some are very intricate, and powerful, and inspiring.
All of them together, though - I hope they form a very fertile top soil for you to grow your own unique world view from.
If you like the topsoil that the poems in this weekly newsletter form, please show your enthusiasm by buying me a cup of coffee or sending me a monthly supply of three cups through my hypersub.
Watch this bite-sized documentary about the forest floor
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FRESH POETRY! GET YOUR FRESH POETRY! New issue of your weekly poetry shot is out now: https://paragraph.com/@trpplffct/top-soil?referrer=0xB31Faa5c1D581C70F4b6ed095c944936cBd2a357