Thursday, March 22, 2012

Red Flower

Red Flower


I try to imagine the poem
you'd write if you thought
about such things,
what you would say about
a torn red flower or
the racket of the crickets.

I can’t find
a single word.
only the fitful ash and fleeing smoke
of our days, and the
last winter bruises fading
to summer yellow.



March 2012



55 torn petals for   the G-man



Image: A Pot of Geraniums, Odilon Redon, oil on canvas
Public Domain, courtesy wikipainitings.org

26 comments:

  1. i am glad at least the bruises are fading...the ash and the smoke is a bit sad...def speaks more to brooding...come on sun shine that light...smiles...

    hope you have a blast this weekend hedge

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    1. Yeah--it's rained for three days straight so gloomy here but tomorrow the sun will be out, and I expect to have a blast with the grandson.

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  2. Lovely...enjoy the sunshine and the grandson :)

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  3. I am glad it is fading to summer yellow...The weather here has been marvelous...warm and sunny ~ Enjoy your day ~

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  4. This is extremely atmospheric and moody, with an undercurrent of tenderness. I find myself very curious as to what prompted you to write this. I don't suppose it matters what inspired it...it's here and it's haunting.

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  5. Moody Broods. That would make a good name for a band.

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  6. Unfortunately you Okies suffered thru a Real Winter.
    We were an Anomoly this year...I'll Take It!
    Loved your 55 Joy
    Beautiful words always flow from The Hedgewitch.
    Thanks for playing, enjoy the warmth of your family,
    and have a Kick Ass Week-End

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    1. Well, we had a pretty puny winter by Michigan standards, but it was enough for me. Thanks for the positive flow, and have a weekend replete with kick-assingness yourself.

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  7. very evocative and a bit sad but very beautifully written. here's to brighter days.

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  8. Thanks everyone. I'm quite cheerful at the moment, so all's well, and I'll be around to read everyone's 55's on Saturday.

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  9. I've read this a number of times. I find it neither happy, nor sad - perhaps it is more pondering, looking back.

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  10. There's a bittersweetness to this. It lingers. Sometimes, maybe, words aren't even necessary.

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  11. I enjoyed the matter-fact of nature of this, Joy. Maybe it is the title, but I did think Red Wheelbarrow when I read...that same kind of 'flow' (well, to my untrained ear). Last two lines are brilliant. ~ a

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  12. Oohh, bruises fading to summer yellow is one of a kind image for sure. I did not see this as a season though but person, in which case it has a very definite chill. K.

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  13. Geraniums always herald the sun, so a torn flower is very sad, suggesting as it does the end of warmth - delightful words and picture...

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  14. Thanks H -- Sometimes the flower of what isn't needn't be a flower at all to yet bloom, even here, even now. Thank Blake for saying, "as the eye is form'd, so are its Powers." Wallace Stevens' Elysium was an insurance beat in Hartford, fer Crissakes ... Enjoy the family time - Brendan

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  15. The interminable distance, sad, but even the distance fades like the bruises. Lovely poem, Hedge. Glad to know you're all right.

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  16. This is a perfect portrait in miniature: filled to the corners with colour and emotion. You do 55 words in grand style.

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  17. Yup, it's a bruise-fading day here today. Your picture of the sad geranium fits the tone of the verse perfectly too.

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  18. I think the brused fading moments make the crisp dawn breaking days much more vibrant and worth the celebration
    enjoy your moments with your grandson

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  19. Thanks everyone. The insanity is about to begin here, but I will be around over the weekend to return visits.:)

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  20. Taste of ashes...I'm learning that. Beautiful poem in its pain. Wishing you strength and peace.

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  21. you couldn't find a single word but you could fill the next four lines full of knock me on my ass great.

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  22. the racket of the crickets... wow, that's great.

    I have one word for this poem: profound.


    (Whatever insanity is about to begin, may it be short-lived. Peace to you, Joy.)

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  23. This is beautiful, and hits home pretty hard. Hope your spring blooms unexpectedly beautiful.

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'Poetry is an echo asking a shadow to dance' ~Carl Sandburg