Moonbeam coreopsis along Superior
in a maze of rose gardens
where we wander past Mister Lincolns,
Ingrid Bergmans,
Seashells,
French Perfumes,
Betty Boops,
and other epiphanies
of pollination and art,
the sublime and the comic.
Black buds of Taboo
like finely carved blood.
She understands the architecture
of plants and recalls for me
their stories and genealogies
while pulling petals to rub
between fingertips and on skin.
Those words, "mid-life crisis,"
"commitment," the unknown
we know as time and ourselves,
sculpting passion
even as the mists rise later
in the pasture behind the house,
dew soaking clothes on the line,
the fluids of our bodies
giving proof once more
that irreducible desire
is what cannot be thought,
the one and unique rose,
never to find its like again.
(c) copyright 2012 Charles David Miller. All rights reserved.
A previously unpublished piem, I post this in response to Anna Montgomery's prompt at dversepoets.com, where she asks us to post poems that incorporate words from different languages. This is my submission, in the language of roses.
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smiles....really love that last stanza sir...when you brought midlife crisis into it...my heart dropped a bit...but you relieved the tension by the end making me smile at never finding its like again...
ReplyDeletethe middle stanza has such subtle intimacy to me as well...her telling you about them as she pulls petals to rub between fingertips and on skin...it also brings scent into it without addressing it....
very cool piece brother...
I hope that I've never given the impression that I'm perfect or haven't committed grave wrongs. Please forgive me if I have. Thank you for your charitable comment, Brian.
DeleteQUite wonderful. One of my favorites of yours - first all the fun of the rose names, then the serious business- the catch words, which are still, in fact, meaningful, the epiphany at the end. Just terrific. You know, I've been trying to go for shorter and shorter things, but when I read your poems - though this one is relatively short - there is not an extra word, and you use the space to find meaning! (A personal agh here.) Just great. k.
ReplyDeleteI really liked this and enjoyed where it led... I didn't know roses had those names... I especially liked --Black buds of Taboo /like finely carved blood.
ReplyDeleteAh, the language of roses - Joy and I have enjoyed discussing the language of flowers. I even have a book on Tussie Mussies that explains all the Victorian symbolism. Your poem blooms like its subject with a complex and heady scent. Beautiful!
ReplyDeletelovely--I could feel the velvet petals and smell the richness
ReplyDeleteThe weaving of the names of plants and their variety is a very rich seam to tap into. Well done
ReplyDeleteI've always loved roses and their miriade of names.
ReplyDeleteYou have captured their individuality perfectly.
Beautiful.
How utterly beautiful - you capture love in a rose - wicked wordplay Chaz
ReplyDeleteSplendid use of language. Thoroughly enjoyable. Meets the challenge beautifully.
ReplyDeleteThe last stanza speaks to me of a passionate encounter, never to find like it again ~ Lovely use of the garden and its petal meaning ~
ReplyDelete"and other epiphanies
ReplyDeleteof pollination and art"
That is incredibly cool.
The rose names are new to me, and quite a brilliant touch.
ReplyDeleteAnd as always, the imagery great.
And thanks for commenting on my blog, it's been a while since I've visited here and that's on me. What I'm saying is it's all good.
Marvelous choice of language--Roses rule!
ReplyDeleteAn exquisite poem: a celebration of love and spirit!
"and other epiphanies
of pollination and art,
the sublime and the comic." How lovely to recognize the entire range of creation.
"pulling petals to rub
between fingertips and on skin." Such a familiar gesture in such a grand poem prepare us for the mists rising in the fields, sensitive to human pollination and artistry
"sculpting passion"
. . .
"the one and unique rose . . ."
A language of roses! How nice! A twist to the normal foreign languages others employed. Nice write Charles!
ReplyDeleteHank
Oh, this is superb and beyond-special. Anyone who has ever loved, at any age, would know the soul of this poem. I am in love with this poem, Charles!
ReplyDeleteI think 'mid life crisis' is a great name for rose:)
ReplyDeleteGod, this is beautiful.
ReplyDeleteI love the use of familiar objects, the Bettys.. I instantly drew a picture.
ReplyDeleteas many have already said, and i have to agree, beautifully done ;-)
ReplyDeleteesp liked,
"Black buds of Taboo
like finely carved blood"
and
"sculpting passion
even as the mists rise later
in the pasture behind the house"
the series of images just continue eliciting little shudderings from somewhere i've given up not wanting to know...
thank you charles ;-)
Wonderful. So fluid, I was mesmerized reading it this morning.
ReplyDeleteWell done sir!
Wonderful. So fluid, I was mesmerized reading it this morning.
ReplyDeleteWell done sir!
where we wander past Mister Lincolns,
ReplyDeleteIngrid Bergmans,
Seashells,
French Perfumes,
Betty Boops,
and other epiphanies
of pollination and art,
the sublime and the comic.... just love that walk...so much in it...had to smile a bit cause my husband says i look a bit like betty boops...smiles.. love the understanding of architecture of the plants...such finely woven imagery in this charles.. tender closure as well
charles, i miss you brother....and wanted you to know you were thought of today...happy thanksgiving. smiles.
ReplyDelete