Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Last Stroll through the Garden

We have a freeze expected this weekend, despite being up in the eighties most of the week--a 45 degree temp drop--so what else is new... I decided to go out and snap some shots of the last blooms standing in my flower garden. I am a poor photographer, but the flowers speak for themselves. I am just whispering a bit in their ears here.


 ~*~     ~*~     ~*~

A Stroll Through The Garden




When I saw my first mandala
whirling in spokes
I tied myself to it all through
the great bombing
rolling head over heels 
a Catherine wheel
past the crack of foundations
never strong shattering down;




my heart crumpled to a thimble
with the broken cookie moon
scarlet crumbs caught
behind a mask
tipping a flask
of Merlot.









All day 
the red freckling
danced on my face
too warm
too salty
too coppery
for rain






till the white stars fell
 tangled in your green
fingers, the drawl
in your mouth
warm with whisked air
poured into kisses








 singing handfast in the ruins
bees combing my hair for dust bites of pollen
stem bent to the wind,
rubbled in roses.

~October 2012





For those finding it difficult to read, here is just the text:


A Stroll through the Garden

When I saw my first mandala
whirling in spokes
I tied myself to it all through
the great bombing

rolling head over heels
a Catherine wheel
past  the crack of foundations
never strong shattering down;

my heart crumpled to a thimble
with the broken cookie moon
scarlet crumbs caught
behind a mask
tipping a flask
of Merlot.

All day
the red freckling
danced on my face
too warm
too salty
too coppery
for rain

till the white stars fell
tangled in your green
fingers, the drawl
in your mouth
warm with whisked air
poured into kisses

singing handfast in the ruins
bees combing my hair for dust bites of pollen
stem bent to the wind,
rubbled in roses.

~October 2012

 




Photos and words © joyannjones 2012


19 comments:

  1. All day
    the red freckling
    danced on my face
    too warm
    too salty
    too coppery
    for rain...smiles love that...and the trip through you garden...the intimacy in that next stanza as well...enjoy them while you got them....the weather is all jacked up here too...84 after school today...and already chilly tonight...

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  2. Those are lovely pics, hedge
    A perfect melody to your words
    Love the bees combing
    And yeah, foundations aren't what they used to be. Thanks be merlot hasn't changed.
    That second stanza is gorgeous
    Stay warm~i think we'll all feel this chill

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    Replies
    1. Thanks, rick. I've gotten more accustomed to the cold than the heat, myself.

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  3. Love this... we are already past this point here, already I miss my flowers. I especially love that last stanza!

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  4. Hi Hedge - beautiful pictures and poem. I can see you've chosen the pictures carefully - and your flowers are great - but it would also be kind of nice to see the poem straight through. I actually tried to half-shut one eye to read it because I felt like it concerned things beyond the beautiful flowers, and they were so well-matched I had a hard time keeping each stanza in mind going into the next. (My mind is kind of going.)

    So just going to the poem - I really found that move from the bombing, cracked foundation, to the merlot and the coppery freckling - any kind of salty coppery thing always feels a bit like blood to me (or perhaps some of that merlot) but with the bombing, some kind of blood - which makes the healing that comes next very moving. k.

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    Replies
    1. Sorry to mangle your tired eyeballs, k. I wrote this as I was posting the pics, which is why it's like this. I never do that, so I don't even have a spare copy in Word. Each stanza was written to each picture just the first words that came as I looked at it--sort of a writing exercise. But obviously, they are all connected too, like one has to connect the colors in a flowerbed to make a composition. You sound so stressed. And speaking of weather, a hurricane may very well be *your* 'treat' for this weekend, so please stay safe and get some rest if you can.

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    2. Okay, I cut and pasted it(with a bit of rewrite) so you can just scroll down and read the poem. If anyone's reading this on some devilspawn handheld device, should make it easier.

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    3. Ha! Well, I am one for devilspawn - but my problem is a bit more mental in terms of keeping whole thoughts in mind! I missed the Catherine wheel somehow before, focusing on the mandala - I love that image of the mandala being switched into Catherine wheel which brings in the whisked wind for me - and then the roll from martyr to bee-combed person is very interesting to me - I used to find those Saint stories so strange as the martyrs survive all this terrible stuff and then they just get some mundane beheading or something. Here, I get the feeling you escape the beheading even with all those bees! I like the idea of bee rather than honey comb btw. Thanks for putting in one piece for those of us that have to look back at the earlier lines to read the later ones. (I may just be tired.) k.

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    4. The Saints are indeed strange minglings of parable, previous pagan figures recast, and riddles of logic, for me also. The bees were a very late addition--the garden seemed to ask them to be included, and the Catherine wheel wasn't there on your first reading--came to me in bed and that's when I got up and reworked things. Thanks, k.

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  5. Glorious, glorious lines of beautiful words.....and flowers blooming to perfection. So sad to think of the frost ending their brief reign of glory. Lovely, Hedge. Thanks for sharing your garden with us. Ours are already a dismal affair, as our temp has dropped too.

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    Replies
    1. Thank you Sherry. Yes, it still looks like summer here, bar an odd yellow leaf or two, but that should be changing after Saturday.

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  6. "the drawl
    in your mouth
    warm with whisked air
    poured into kisses"

    I am moved by the pics and how they each contribute to the poem "A Stroll through the Garden" with glasses of Merlot and whisked air. As I read the Garden became more to me--self, earth, soul. I felt all the images speaking of an inner youth that survives despite an external crumbling and frosting. Neat, then,to end with a handfast "in the ruins."

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  7. Beautiful flowered words, you and nature at your best.

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  8. So beautiful to see your flowers and read the words you wrote for them.

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  9. Very cool! I especially love the broken cookie moon, the bees in the hair searching, and the ending. One never thinks of roses as rubble, but you managed it splendidly. You know I always love your garden pix, as well.

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  10. first, the pictures are quite lovely.

    I thoroughly enjoyed the trip (spin) through your garden. I love how beautifully your pictures complimented your words (and vice versa).

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  11. I'm glad I don't have to decide which is more beautiful, your poem or your garden.

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  12. Nice collage of images and words that capture an end of summer

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