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Come next Spring-Come next Summer
| Open Poetry #47 |
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Come next Spring-Come next Summer |
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ice Member Elite
since 2003-05-17
Posts 3404Pennsylvania |
 Frost killed impatiens. Steady, incessant, spring and summer passes. The world tilts, wobbling on its axis To expose mid October-- when a blanket Of icy crystals, descends, covering all; Sending souls of tender plants to heaven. All color becomes neutral, blacks and tans Is diluted in the liquid change of season Slowly, turgid limbs droop, and descend Pasting the ground with stained glass stems. A slight tilt exposes more chill- November Sun shines weak, but brights the ground Where no carved rock marks the place of remains By death, all becomes equal, all become same Begonia, impatien-cleome, and petunia. But Color and beauty remain Repeated, in memory, jotted down On photographs with scribbled captions "Our garden, two thousand eleven". Do I feel a sense of sadness? yes. But loss does not mean all is lost-- I carry the dead to the compost, Accepting the difference, knowing There is energy in those inanimate; Knowing life formed, changes form- And will renew in resurrected colors, Come next spring, come next summer. |
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| © Copyright 2011 ford hume - All Rights Reserved | |||
suthern
since 1999-07-29
Posts 20723Louisiana |
But Color and beauty remain Repeated, in memory, jotted down On photographs with scribbled captions "Our garden, two thousand eleven". And in poems that remind us bleak will pass, bulbs will send shoots up from the earth and spring will come again.  Beautiful write!!! |
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JerryPat2 Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975South Louisiana |
I really don't see the leaves falling and the flowers dying, and death per se, ice, but rather as a part of the grand evolution of life. I know you understand that also, although you do associate the flowers death with sadness. It is life's circle, around and around it goes. ~*~ If they give you lined paper, write sideways ~*~ |
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jwesley Member Rara Avis
since 2000-04-30
Posts 7563Spring, Texas |
Cool write, my friend, and while I sort of agree with Jerry, I see it slightly different. If you substitute the leaves and flowers for humans, it's all the same cycle only on a longer scale, and if I am the one dying off, even though the species will be perpetuated by my seed,I'm gone --- and I'm sorry, I'm not real happy about that --- I really like living. I'd be just as happy if someone else carries on that part of the grand evolution. Little narrow minded I guess, but I'd just as soon be the survivor. Enjoyed the read... j. |
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JL Member Ascendant
since 2004-04-01
Posts 6128Texas, USA |
"Do I feel a sense of sadness? yes. But loss does not mean all is lost-- I carry the dead to the compost," Nice photo and poem. This verse rang "the way-of-winter". JL Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul,and with all your mind. Love your neighbor as yourself. |
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Margherita Member Seraphic
since 2003-02-08
Posts 22236Eternity |
quote: Fantastic conclusion to a wonderful, sensitive and even poignant poem, dear Ford. When we align to what is, even the sadness is a gift then. Margherita |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
I remember the first year I planted impatiens and begonias in my whiskey barrel, so beautiful were the simple faces, so silky the slendar stems, and after thriving in that Illinois spring and summer, the first icy glance of Jack's frost made them succumb as photoed above, and I, not knowing their death would be so rapid, so unforgiving... almost didn't want to plant them again the following year... but I did, knowing that some day I might have to lose my impatiens to begonia as quickly as they...  lovely work, Ford. |
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ice Member Elite
since 2003-05-17
Posts 3404Pennsylvania |
I love all of these replies, and thank each, and all for reading my scribbles. Having graduated from the William Carlos Williams school of imagists (last in my class) I have tried to show the world as I see it...perhaps in too much detail at times.. There is a sense of saddness in the poem, but that does not say there is not hope, and understanding of the process of life form into lifeform.. "I carry the dead to the compost" Yes, but the word "compost" is the key to hope, and the theory mentioned. The bodies of these plants, as well as all bodies are worked into the great scheme of connected lives, a form of inner dependence. They will nurish the plants with their bodies energy, passing it on to a new generation of plants. "Come next spring, Come next summer" |
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OwlSA Member Rara Avis
since 2005-11-07
Posts 9347Durban, South Africa |
The first time I read this, I was too touched by it to answer. Besides I was going through (and still am) some things of my own, but am now better able to reply to this. I have read it several times – very slowly to imbibe it all and I felt every nuance of it, being a child of Nature, as you know. I know the sadness and the reality of what you photographed (and yet how the compost it will form will be the springboard of more life), but . . . what I am trying to explain is the photograph and the actual view have, in my humble view, a different focus from each other. I am wondering which of the two you saw at the time you photographed the impatiens. I am not talking about the hope - I am not explaining myself very well - I can hear that - I am talking about the actual face value of the photograph. The photo should be almost an embarrassment to the impatiens, a violation of their privacy, an insult to them – instead (besides being a tribute to their life and to their service of nourishing future generations of plants, impatiens or otherwise), the excellence and detail of the photo shows (in my humble opinion) a celebration of their beauty even in death because of the way your photograph has sneaked a view of the sunlight caressing them and highlighting the rich variety of brown and golds (a favourite colour combination of mine). Now everyone really is going to think (know?) I am crazy, but to me it is almost like the last part of the ballet, Swan Lake. Owl |
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OwlSA Member Rara Avis
since 2005-11-07
Posts 9347Durban, South Africa |
Forgot to say how clever Karilea's word play is on impatience and be(ing)-gone-ya at the end of her poem. Owl [This message has been edited by OwlSA (11-05-2011 04:14 PM).] |
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EmmaRose Senior Member
since 2011-03-02
Posts 1376Midwest |
I love to kick up the leaves that are drying on the ground this time of year, wondering their destiny, if they in fact will be the same ones next year on the mother tree afterall? Such ponderings, trivial and profound all at once. Such is life.......... Very inspirational words you brought to this read today |
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ice Member Elite
since 2003-05-17
Posts 3404Pennsylvania |
Thank you Dianna..your replies are always wrapped around deep thoughts..It shows you read carefully...I like that......:-) * Emma "Such ponderings, trivial and profound all at once." The flowers are trivial, and profound at the same time. I am closer to plants in many ways than most people..They bring bread to my table, as I am a landscaper/garden designer. Thank yopu for the reply......:-) Come read to me some poem, |
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