Hello and Happy Poetry Friday! Be sure to visit Tanita Davis at fiction, instead of lies for Roundup.
I will be on the road today, but I did want to leave a new ArtSpeak: WOMEN poem. This week I've returned to Hilma af Klint. Did you know she did a series of nature studies? MoMA mounted an exhibition of them last year, and I love all the connections Hilma was making! I reallyreallyreally want to acquire this book that accompanied the show. Hilma wrote in her notebook that sunflowers convey "love is the greatest of all." Her certainty led me to write a (love) poem full of questions. Thanks so much for reading!
Just Another (Sun)flower Poem
What (dark) language do seeds speak?
How do they know to reach for sun?(Is the sun singing?)
When rain comes, can a plant
anticipate its drip-drop-drizzle,
or is it always a surprise? (Surprise!)
Which part is the plant most proud of,
its roots or its bloom?
(Don't tell me.)
And what about (green, glistening) leaves,
do they know that blooms exist only
because of leaves' devotion to collecting light?
to stumble upon yellow petals in a field
and smile?
How is it that every time I meet
a sunflower
I (smiling) think of you?
- Irene Latham
p.s. A big fat smiling happy birthday to my (daffodil) sister LTG!!!
Enjoy your travels! What good questions to ask of sunflower. I think sunflowers are just wanting to tell us the answers so bad with their earnestness.
ReplyDeleteI love the word 'glistening' here so much because in it is 'listening' and I know that's how the fancy Japanese sunflowers I just transplanted on our hill (ughhhh, planting on an 45° slope is for the birds) look to me - like their fuzzy hands are open and spread, listening... beautifully existing, devoted to the light. What a lovely image. Happy travels! Happy weekend!
ReplyDeleteThis line hit home for me. I often wonder similar things about discovery. I love your line “stumble upon yellow petals in a field” for that reason. Here’s hoping you encounter many nuances in your travels. Thank you for sharing Hilma af Klint’s work. It’s lovely, as is your poem.
ReplyDeleteI love how the (parenthesis ) make me stop and consider the question in a slightly different way. My garden sunflowers are just starting to bloom after months of getting taller and taller. An intriguing flower to ponder.
ReplyDeleteI agree with Margaret, here, Irene. The stop of the parenthesis lets you know the thoughts of the poet (you). It is beautiful and intriguing. My gardens are lush with blooms right now, some heliopsis (false sunflowers) are over five feet tall. Safe travels and thanks!
ReplyDeleteYou've made this question poem sound so fresh, Irene! Love pondering the use of the parentheses.
ReplyDeleteI'm with Margaret! I love the work the parentheses do in your poem!
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely blending of you and Hilma!
ReplyDeleteYour parentheticals give a little bit of an e.e. cummings feel. Love!
Your poem is the perfect complement to Tabatha's Guggenheim dream-walk. I shall head out for a dream walk of my own, armed with questions.
ReplyDeleteI love these questions, especially regarding whether plants can anticipate the "drip-drop-drizzle"--what a lovely word/image. I, too, am intrigued by the parentheses. I think if you pulled out all the words in them, you'd have another poem. :-)
ReplyDeleteIrene, your poem reminds me of the Sunflower farm I visited with my family. The field was filled with tall sunflowers and we enjoyed walking through the rows. I even have photos of Sierra as a baby being held next to the giant flowers. I am also intrigued with your insertion of parentheses. (BTW, I loved MOMA when we lived on Long Island.
ReplyDeleteI love the combination of questions and parentheses in your poem. Happy travels!
ReplyDeleteIrene, fun sunflower poem with many smiles included! Love your connection to the artists you write beside.
ReplyDelete