BEAUTIFUL BLOOMS – PROMPT # 3
The poems posted for the Week #3 prompt, “From Our Fertile Muses” have continued to impress. We’re just about ready to see the fruits of our efforts as our beautiful words begin to flourish. Now, for this week’s “Blooms”:
Marie Elena’s selection – Katie Dixon’s Untitled draft:
Katie’s draft is dense with imagery, and speaks both physically and metaphorically. “We paraded down the rows, looking only side-to-side with our wide-brimmed hats and simple pails of water” is pleasingly unpretentious in its imagery, yet hints at possible trouble on the path ahead, actually and figuratively. I think this would be a great opening for Katie’s poem.
I am gripped by the number of lines in this short piece that stand alone as quotable words of wisdom.
– “Water and sun we had and we smiled, while creeping roots stole silently beneath.”
– “But salty tears do not grow beauty from shallow soil.”
– “Lessons hard-learned have rescued beauty from ignorance.”
This is a wonderful poem that is potentially fabulous, in my opinion.
Untitled by Katie Dixon
At first we did not notice as they wound
around our ankles, shedding them like shoes.
We paraded proudly down the rows looking only side
To side with our wide-brimmed hats and simple pails of water.
Everything we learned said everything
We’d need was water and sunshine to grow.
Water and sun we had and we smiled,
While creeping roots stole silently beneath.
And then our walks got harder.
Calves straining at the tangled vines and our backs
wondered from where they’d come as we bent
fighting to free our legs from their wicked fingers.
Turning to our flowering friends, our innocent,
wincing eyes wept, straining to find hidden faces.
But salty tears do not grow beauty from shallow soil
And good and bad swirl together in their reflective pools.
“These weeds have turned to trees!” I shout.
Grasping, tearing with rough worn hands
“We’ll never get them down.” But we let the
Never carry over into our night-long toil.
The day soon rises on straining shoulders;
Our Weathered faces speak the sun.
Pails are cast aside for buckets
And our callused feet sigh in cool, soaked soil.
Our now muscled forms tread lightly on tender,
tended earth. Knowing eyes keep careful watch
over fledglings finally free. Lessons hard-learned
have rescued beauty from ignorance.
Walt’s choice is Andrew Kreider’s “Salt”:
Andrew captured the essence of salt quite well. It adds flavor to life, but can be caustic and harmful if not taken in the right balance. The moderation he prescribes finds the right proportion.
“Life and death in each farmer’s hands” and “Helping wheat and weeds grow up together” are two lines that express this concept well. We control how much of ourselves to reveal to nurture or destroy our relationships. It brings us to a common understanding, despite our obvious differences, allowing us to grow and exist together. Freedom shared.
SALT by Andrew Kreider
It’s time to mow the grass for the first time
This spring – the tousled dandelion heads
Bobbing above great ragged waves of green.
Next to the street, the lawn is struggling,
Burned under mounds of salt thrown down by plows
Last winter. Nothing can live with that much salt.
My father told me once how they used salt
In the ancient world, as fertilizer,
Spreading it on the fields to make crops grow.
Too much salt in one place damaged the soil,
Scorched beyond use. But when spread thin it was
Golden! Life and death in each farmer’s hands.
The good book says: you are salt for the earth.
And I think of how we all get piled up
In great toxic mounds of long-lost goodness.
We poison our own back yards, when we could
Be scooped up and scattered to the fresh winds
Helping wheat and weeds grow up together.