When the Cherry Trees Bloomed

[dr_con]

When the Cherry Trees Bloomed

 

She found a Capricorn earring on the ground

and laughed at the irony since that sign doesn't

believe in astrology and I was focused on the crack

in the sidewalk uneven and bright green with moss

unwinding and endless An interruption in the fabric

of the foundation as we discussed our plans

 

Today is Valentine's another made up holiday

without the pretension to be called divine

and I'm trying to order my life The Vessel

needs polishing and re-casting All sins

and savories the backbone of poetry

need to be reformed to make room

for new roles and the acceptance

of change

 

The liminal

between the assumed solidity of beliefs

and the inevitable greening of the infrastructure

as new life feeds on the inanimate ideas we call

clarity The cherry trees are in bloom as I walk to get

coffee and chocolate for my sweetheart still asleep beside

the cat My prejudice against the color pink disappears

in the riot of Sunday morning Spring being early

 

The delicate buds feel no guilt or shame at their demise

Their impermanence is coded by no hand They do not blush

as I stare agape at the sensuous assault on my sensibility

They do not serve my will and laugh at the idea of a garden

The petals go as they are

 

subject to wind and rain and earth

A collage of colors flame in and along that crack in the sidewalk

where soon having feasted on those fruits of no-labor

I'll contemplate this aging vessel

and start re-building again.

[tonyv]

The poet is in touch with nature and himself. He contemplates transience in a beautifully expressed wabi-sabi moment:

 

... The cherry trees are in bloom as I walk to get

coffee and chocolate for my sweetheart still asleep beside

the cat My prejudice against the color pink disappears

in the riot of Sunday morning Spring being early

 

The delicate buds feel no guilt or shame at their demise

Their impermanence is coded by no hand They do not blush

as I stare agape at the sensuous assault on my sensibility

They do not serve my will and laugh at the idea of a garden

The petals go as they are ...

The "inevitable greening of the infrastructure" makes me think of an urban area's return to nature, as has happened in some blighted, now uninhabited, parts of Detroit where vegetation has started to grow in the roads and wild animals have wandered into city streets. That "crack in the sidewalk" you mention at the beginning and the end of the poem takes me there ... It's like a microcosm of the same.

 

Tony

[dr_con]

Thanks Tony!

 

DC&J

[waxwings]

Fantastic, regardless of the fact that it just may be too complex for many a reader, as it seemingly springs from some perhaps esoteric knowledge of medicine and/or psychology.

 

In specific, the term liminal jumped right at me. The base form reminds me of the Latvian limenis (leemenis) -- level, or the surface of a body of water. I had to do some research, for I wondered if you have/have not thoroughly explored all the possible meanings/innuendos. Imagine! Twilight, waking from a dream state and teenagers: all are example of things liminal.

 

On a lighter note, I hope you don't overly mind me saying this wonderful poem is very difficult to read, in a syntactical sense, and I might enjoy it a million times more if you were to use (even quite sparingly) some commas, etc., to separate certain thoughts/ideas from running together/overlapping.

 

I find that unusual 'paragraph/stanza break' (between the last two) quite effective, which is not always the case in many modern poems.

Edited February 16, 2010 by waxwings

[dr_con]

Thanks Waxwings- currently re-thinking my voice- so, for a little while you'll need to put up with my lack of punctuation;-) Which controls a great deal of how a poem (in my mind) is written- we'll see over time;-)

 

Many Thanks for your comments!

 

DC&J

[waxwings]

Thanks Waxwings- currently re-thinking my voice- so, for a little while you'll need to put up with my lack of punctuation;-) Which controls a great deal of how a poem (in my mind) is written- we'll see over time;-)

 

Many Thanks for your comments!

 

DC&J

 

Believe it. You do have a voice. Rethinking may not necessarily be the thing to do. Who is totally sure what "voice", esp. "h-er/-is voice" is? I am not, and surely it has nothing to do with my speaking voice.

 

Why not make a recording of yourself reciting poem as if for an audience. You will likely be less nervous, there not being one. Then listen and make notes re the flow of ideas and variations in change in emphasis/modulation. That should tell you if there is/is not punctuation where needed or not.

 

Wrighte on, waxwings

Edited February 19, 2010 by waxwings