In this year of pain

[duck]

barren seeds parachute
onto my unsoiled arm.

Honest labour is a myth.
Sand blows in orchards.

Jesus knocks at the gate
asks for a glass of water,

but we turn our cheeks
the other way, to the wall.

[Mark T]

Great stuff - Dave, you're all over the map with your spread of styles aren't you? looks like you're having a blast. I'm so pedantic, I spoiled S1 for myself by wondering what the other arm is soiled with...  but I love S2 and 3 -could be standalone, deserves to be until you come up with a better s4 - I know, I know, it's a toughie - but what a quad:

Honest labour is a myth,
sand blows in orchards.
Jesus knocks at the gate,
asks for a glass of water.

Lots of slithery slippery sss sounds in this... superb

[duck]

Thanks Mark
I believe you have just revealed that even a short poem of a few lines can waffle. Beautifully edited to find the core. Unfortunately I am not clever enough to find any other smart endings.
Dave

[Tom 10]

A thoughtful, introspective poem, Dave - it has a Ghazal feel to it, which unexpectedly dissolves in S.4, when the connections are revealed. 

A few small comments - A reason for not capitalizing the first word of the poem?  The pattern in the poem might suggest capitalizing the "b".

S.2 L.2 - in > through  /  into  ?

S.4 L.1 - delete but ?

S.4 L.1 - cheeks > cheek  ?

S.4 L.2 - to  > toward  ?


Good writing.   

T

[REW]

Hello I read your poem and liked it because

it is simple yet complicated, interesting, haunting, and easily digestible barren fruit from the last harvest.    

[matty11]

Honest labour is a myth.
Sand blows in orchards.

Jesus knocks at the gate
asks for a glass of water,

but we turn the other way,
cement bricks in the wall.

I agree with Mark that condensing is a possible, though S4 does offer an option of giving more perspective.

best

matty