Pomegranate Poem by Geraldine Moorkens Byrne

I collect words;
Collate and catalogue them
in some library of the mind, to which
I get sporadic access, as the muse decrees.

I hope if I store enough words, there will always be one
no matter how scarce the favours scattered:
that paucity of concept will yield
before the wealth amassed in syllable and dipthong.

I hold some words in high regard
I once spent a day musing on the sound of 'leech'
and make alliterative lists of favourite mots
Whistling, Wonder, Weird, Wildflower.

But of all the troves and chests and caverns
overflowing with jewelled noise, bedecked with meanings and
subtle shades of burnished thought, lies
one word, elegant in its simplicity, its economy of meaning:

yet extravagent in form, reigning
Supremely succulent in tone
a taste of desire and wealth, one word -
Pomegranate.