The last days of February and tulips
push feebly through the thinning permafrost
of a forgotten flower bed. First, green
stems straighten, tall, lifting heads
of flower bulbs, then - tasting the morning
light of spring - burst into yellow.
|
Author notes
For my dear friend, Nenni. May spring come soon for her.
Comments
-
I really liked the descriptions in this poem. With such few words, you create a vivid image. I look foward to reading more of your work. Nicely done.
-
Hey pap
This is quite a descriptive poem, then again you've gotten really good in capturing images and putting them into words. I like that this poem has movement to it. Most often when describing there is a tendency to fall into still pictures, but this has incremental movement subtly giving this poem life. I like how you start with the tulips push(ing) feebly and then ending it with a burst of yellow...such a victory.
-iphios -
-
*Pap picks a tulip for Iphios
Iphios,
i'm glad you enjoyed this one. i jotted it down today. but i've been mulling this scene over in my head since a Saturday morning walk. They were yellow blurs at first, cuz it was early, but when i rubbed my eyes, they popped into clarity - the first tulips edging the sidewalk and filling the flowerbed of an abandoned house. my original idea was imagine a story about the house and who lived there, and to end the poem with the tulip image, a metaphor for life after death. so maybe this is a small picture of a larger poem. Oh, the poems that never reach paper!
always,
Pap
-
Adding your comment:
