BEAUTIFUL BLOOMS – PROMPT #60
MARIE ELENA’S BLOOM
Isn’t it what sets our heart ablaze that distinguishes life from mere existence? Walt’s prompt produced a firestorm of passion – from an extraordinary sonnet that set my spirit aglow, to palpable rage, to fervid lust, to flashes of nature’s beauty. As usual, choosing just one to highlight was nearly impossible for me. I finally dwindled six down to one … Mary Mansfield’s Passing the Torch. I can feel the emotions of this mother – the passion, pride, and panic. Mary, your expressive little spitfire inspired me. Bless her heart. And bless yours for realizing, “This fire is not for me to control.”
PASSING THE TORCH (by Mary Mansfield)
The familiar smell of smoke
Wafts from my daughter’s bedroom.
I find her cross-legged on the bed,
Teddy bear at her side,
Red hair almost hiding
The concentration on her bowed head,
Eleven year old fingers
Furiously scorching words across paper,
Firmly in the grasp of inspiration’s fire.
I’m torn, part of me wishing
To tenderly stoke those new embers,
Another part wanting
To extinguish that flame,
Knowing the difficult
And sometimes frustrating path
That lies ahead of her.
Instead I silently close her door.
This fire is not for me to control.
Walt is, unfortunately, under the weather (prayers welcome). He is also having problems connecting to the internet. He was sure to relay his Beautiful Bloom choice, which also (not surprisingly) is one of my own favorites this week: Marian J. Veverka’s Lighting the Flame. Marian’s candle lights our way through a physical storm but, as with most poetry, this “small flame” ignites metaphorical possibilities as well. Marian, Walt offers you this well-deserved “Bloom.”
LIGHTING THE FLAME (by Marian J. Veverka)
Small flame that I have brought to life
In the midst of this howling storm
How eagerly your small tongue leaps
Upward as I carry you from room to room.
We travel together accompanied by another
Circle of light reflecting on the walls, once
Familiar, now shadowed and menacing.
You continue to share your brightness,
Your small light in the great darkness
of this frightening time of lost power and
violent storm. When night arrived, we groped
uselessly through the growing shadows–
Until you offered your tender flick of light.