Monday April 5th, 2010

The exercise:

Your prompt today: in bloom. Feel free to combine that with today being the 666th day in a row of Daily Writing Practice if you see fit :)

The trip to Osoyoos was good. Filled with wedding talk, garden work, excellent food, and far too much rain. I hope everyone had a great weekend!

Oh, and here's a picture to go with my poem:


Mine:

Spring sweeps through the orchard,
Her green dress trailing along the ground,
Blades of grass appearing in her wake. 


Her fingertips brush against the trees,
Drawing buds from their winter slumber,
To once more share their beauty with the world. 


The apricot trees are the first to respond,
White and red blossoms bursting forth,
Spilling their sweet scent onto the wind. 


Spring smiles sadly and continues on,
Knowing they will transform into fruit,
But only for her brother Summer’s eyes.

3 Comments:

Greg said...

Even the rain sounds rather nice, when you describe it! It sounds like a really good weekend getaway -- I know that not everyone would consider all that garden work to be fun, but I know I'd enjoy it :) And the photo is great -- is that tree part of an orchard?

Your poem today is inspirational, with the second two verses really pulling me into the idea of Spring and her gifts.

And 666 days -- well, it's a number worth remarking on. I'm kind of glad you didn't go with the obvious connotations though!

In bloom

Demeter stands waiting at the gate,
Her eyes the blue of cornflowers,
Scanning from here to the horizon,
With an impatience that the world feels.
It has been three days now,
Since the temperatures rose,
And the sun woke her early, tickling her
With rays that long to warm the ground.
But she stands firm, resisting,
Waiting for the moment when Persephone
Steps from the chthonic realm;
Her daughter, freed once more from a marriage
That the mother cannot understand.
The skies darken and rain falls,
A cold wind rises from nowhere, carrying with it
The lament of lost and fallen souls.
Persephone arrives, stepping up from a hidden place,
Shrouded by the darkness of Pluto's lingering kiss,
And waves him a fond farewell.
Demeter exhales, her daughter is home
And the rain turns warm, the wind grows soft,
And she tends to the land once more.

Glorya said...

@Marc I really like the "fingertips brush against the trees" line, simply because of how tender the image seems. The final stanza is wonderful, too :)

@Greg More mythology? ;) What I like about your retellings is how you can bring out a genuine atmosphere. The textbook stories are so dry that the way you bring them to life is incredibly refreshing :)

The stiff beaks of daffodils
Like trumpets, like bills
Of rustling, whispering birds
Are crushed. Crumpled.
The daffodils wind themselves tight,
Cocooned under indecisive snow.
They quicken.
And are reborn in phoenix shades.

Marc said...

Greg - yeah, it's one of the apricot trees in the orchard on Kat's parents property.

And you know I love your mythology poems. But I'll say that this one was lovely anyway :)

Archi - thanks :)

And in reference to Sunday's post - it's good to see you! :)

I really like the rhythm of yours. Those first four lines make me very happy. And of course it's full of great imagery.