A Cut Flower

Credit: David Nuss 

I stand on slenderness all fresh and fair, 

I feel root-firmness in the earth far down, 

I catch in the wind and loose my scent for bees 

That sack my throat for kisses and suck love. 

What is the wind that brings thy body over? 

Wind, I am beautiful and sick.  I long 

For rain that strikes and bites like cold and hurts. 

Be angry, rain, for dew is kind to me 

When I am cool from sleep and take my bath. 

Who softens the sweet earth about my feet? 

Touches my face so often and brings water? 

Where does she go, taller than any sunflower 

Over the grass like birds?  Has she a root? 

These are great animals that kneel to us, 

Sent by the sun perhaps to help us grow. 

I have seen death.  The colors went away, 

The petals grasped at nothing and curled tight. 

Then the whole head fell off and left the sky. 

She tended me and held me by my stalk. 

Yesterday I was well, and then the gleam, 

The thing sharper than frost cut me in half. 

I fainted and was lifted high.  I feel 

Waist-deep in rain.  My face is dry and drawn. 

My beauty leaks into the glass like rain. 

When first I opened to the sun I thought 

My colors would be parched.  Where are my bees? 

Must I die now?  Is this a part of life?

~ Karl Jay Shapiro

A Cut Flower

Credit: David Nuss 

I stand on slenderness all fresh and fair, 

I feel root-firmness in the earth far down, 

I catch in the wind and loose my scent for bees 

That sack my throat for kisses and suck love. 

What is the wind that brings thy body over? 

Wind, I am beautiful and sick.  I long 

For rain that strikes and bites like cold and hurts. 

Be angry, rain, for dew is kind to me 

When I am cool from sleep and take my bath. 

Who softens the sweet earth about my feet? 

Touches my face so often and brings water? 

Where does she go, taller than any sunflower 

Over the grass like birds?  Has she a root? 

These are great animals that kneel to us, 

Sent by the sun perhaps to help us grow. 

I have seen death.  The colors went away, 

The petals grasped at nothing and curled tight. 

Then the whole head fell off and left the sky. 

She tended me and held me by my stalk. 

Yesterday I was well, and then the gleam, 

The thing sharper than frost cut me in half. 

I fainted and was lifted high.  I feel 

Waist-deep in rain.  My face is dry and drawn. 

My beauty leaks into the glass like rain. 

When first I opened to the sun I thought 

My colors would be parched.  Where are my bees? 

Must I die now?  Is this a part of life?

~ Karl Jay Shapiro

Water Lilies

Source: Favim

If you have forgotten water lilies floating
On a dark lake among mountains in the afternoon shade,
If you have forgotten their wet, sleepy fragrance,
Then you can return and not be afraid.

But if you remember, then turn away forever
To the plains and the prairies where pools are far apart,
There you will not come at dusk on closing water lilies,
And the shadow of mountains will not fall on your heart.

~ Sara Teasdale

Water Lilies

Source: Favim

If you have forgotten water lilies floating
On a dark lake among mountains in the afternoon shade,
If you have forgotten their wet, sleepy fragrance,
Then you can return and not be afraid.

But if you remember, then turn away forever
To the plains and the prairies where pools are far apart,
There you will not come at dusk on closing water lilies,
And the shadow of mountains will not fall on your heart.

~ Sara Teasdale

If sometimes I say that flowers smile

Source: Favimages

If sometimes I say that flowers smile
And if I should say that rivers sing,
It’s not because I think there are smiles in flowers
And songs in the rivers’ flowing…
It’s so I can help misguided men
Feel the truly real existence of flowers and rivers.

Since I write for them to read me, I sometimes stoop
To the stupidity of their senses…
It isn’t right, but I excuse myself,
Because I’ve only taken on this odious role, an interpreter of Nature,
Because there are men who don’t grasp its language,
Which is no language at all.

~ Alberto Caeiro (Fernando Pessoa)

If sometimes I say that flowers smile

Source: Favimages

If sometimes I say that flowers smile
And if I should say that rivers sing,
It’s not because I think there are smiles in flowers
And songs in the rivers’ flowing…
It’s so I can help misguided men
Feel the truly real existence of flowers and rivers.

Since I write for them to read me, I sometimes stoop
To the stupidity of their senses…
It isn’t right, but I excuse myself,
Because I’ve only taken on this odious role, an interpreter of Nature,
Because there are men who don’t grasp its language,
Which is no language at all.

~ Alberto Caeiro (Fernando Pessoa)

Tulips

Source: Tumblr/Favim

These tulips make me want to paint:
Something about the way they drop
Their petals on the tabletop
And do not wilt so much as faint,

Something about their burnt-out hearts,
Something about their pallid stems
Wearing decay like diadems,
Parading finishes like starts,

Something about the way they twist
As if to catch the last applause,
And drink the moment through long straws,
And how, tomorrow, they'll be missed.

The way they're somehow getting clearer,
The tulips make me want to see—
The tulips make the other me
(The backwards one who's in the mirror,

The one who can't tell left from right),
Glance now over the wrong shoulder
To watch them get a little older
And give themselves up to the light.

~ A. E. Stallings

Tulips

Source: Tumblr/Favim

These tulips make me want to paint:
Something about the way they drop
Their petals on the tabletop
And do not wilt so much as faint,

Something about their burnt-out hearts,
Something about their pallid stems
Wearing decay like diadems,
Parading finishes like starts,

Something about the way they twist
As if to catch the last applause,
And drink the moment through long straws,
And how, tomorrow, they'll be missed.

The way they're somehow getting clearer,
The tulips make me want to see—
The tulips make the other me
(The backwards one who's in the mirror,

The one who can't tell left from right),
Glance now over the wrong shoulder
To watch them get a little older
And give themselves up to the light.

~ A. E. Stallings

Bindweed

Source: Arizona Wild Flowers

There is little I can do
besides stoop to pluck them
one by one from the ground,
their roots all weak links,
this hoard of Lazaruses popping up
at night, not the Heavenly Blue
so like silk handkerchiefs,
nor the Giant White so timid
in the face of the moon,
but poor relations who visit
then stay. They sleep in my garden.
Each morning I evict them.
Each night more arrive, their leaves
small, green shrouds,
reminding me the mother root
waits deep underground
and I dig but will never find her
and her children will inherit
all that I’ve cleared
when she holds me tighter
and tighter in her arms.

~ James McKean

Bindweed

Source: Arizona Wild Flowers

There is little I can do
besides stoop to pluck them
one by one from the ground,
their roots all weak links,
this hoard of Lazaruses popping up
at night, not the Heavenly Blue
so like silk handkerchiefs,
nor the Giant White so timid
in the face of the moon,
but poor relations who visit
then stay. They sleep in my garden.
Each morning I evict them.
Each night more arrive, their leaves
small, green shrouds,
reminding me the mother root
waits deep underground
and I dig but will never find her
and her children will inherit
all that I’ve cleared
when she holds me tighter
and tighter in her arms.

~ James McKean

Nasturtium

Photo credit: Melodi2 from morguefile.com

is a ring of simple petals
in a single o of surprise as if saying,
this is not what I expected.
is color in one shade that doesn't flinch
but meets what fate hands out,
the slender stem broken and placed
in clear water in clear glass,
so that there are no more days outside
near round-faced green petals, and
there are no bees and no seeds to
form, and the earth that seemed
so certain always right below is gone,
and all it seems to say is I see with my
one way of seeing that I will live what life
I have left in someone else's house.

~ Gigi Marks

Nasturtium

Photo credit: Melodi2 from morguefile.com

is a ring of simple petals
in a single o of surprise as if saying,
this is not what I expected.
is color in one shade that doesn't flinch
but meets what fate hands out,
the slender stem broken and placed
in clear water in clear glass,
so that there are no more days outside
near round-faced green petals, and
there are no bees and no seeds to
form, and the earth that seemed
so certain always right below is gone,
and all it seems to say is I see with my
one way of seeing that I will live what life
I have left in someone else's house.

~ Gigi Marks

Quote on autumn

Photo credit: DTL from morguefile.com

Autumn is a second spring where every leaf is a flower. - Albert Camus

Quote on autumn

Photo credit: DTL from morguefile.com

Autumn is a second spring where every leaf is a flower. - Albert Camus