Creative Writing: What the grass means

This is a creative writing competition piece that I wrote a while ago. The topic was “what grass means to me” which I thought would be a hard topic to write for and so a real challenge. I think if you write in one style all the time you can get lazy and predictable; taking yourself out of your comfort zone every now and again can really help you as a writer.

What The Grass Means

The grass grows. Seeded in fertile ground and stretching toward the warm sun. It yawns and moves with the breeze, gentling it’s worries. Growing tall against each other.

They whisper as they move.

They whisper their little secrets of this and that, tittle tattle for the masses of grasses. They worry about worms, which will always worm, the rain which always comes and the sky which is always there. Life for a thousand animals moves amongst it’s close embrace and they learn by it’s simplicity. They are kept safe within themselves.

Life is both simple and complicated within the green grass. New species will come and go. There is a fatal fate for those that do not change and adapt or those who do not merge. Each blade may cut and thrust as it moves, creating space with itself.

Though there is an abundance here, where the grass grows.

Where the life flows.

Where the mower mows.

For there is always the mower. The great slower. The one who seeks to rule. He is stronger than the warm sun, which he blots out. He is not gentle like the breeze.

When the life is grown and strong. When the animals are many, he will come. He will come with his own blades, stronger than the grass and says “It is time”. To wreck and ruin, to pull and to chop. But he has a keen eye and keeps those that bend before him.

This is what the grass means to me. It means life, growth and then a reaving. A simple cleaving. That seeks to cut the stream of the lines of grass.


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