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SilverMoon
July 4th, 2010, 09:07 PM
Turned down,
it's the petticoat of the tiger lily.
Narcissus jonquils, midget daffodils,
clustered in a shot glass
and pansies with wicked faces
make for a child's
curious, solitary garden.

It's the Sunflower,
taller than I, where
bumble bees dance then lunch
in furry circle bound by yellow.
Stalks, sturdy and green,
never bending to a royal wind,
only to me.

A hula skirt made
from it’s leaves, torn and
tucked into my jeans.
As tropical as I can be,
swerving my hips
to exotic sunset tra-la-la.

Imaginings of
Hawaiian dancing
are always
the run-away
in dappled domicile.
 
It’s this garden unkept
where I spin and fall
while Mommy,
the Weeping Willow,
bows to a whisky glass,
pouring herself to sleep.

Dreaming flowerlessly,
like my milky dreams
gone sour in the night.

In bed, beads of sweat on her brow
remind me of the morning dew.
It has to. It has to!

I crawl in bed
near the morning dew.

I'll bring
Mother's nature
to the garden patch.

And water her
beneath the sun.

She'll grow, sprouting smiles,
the most beautiful Flower yet seen.

Even the Sunflower
will bow to Her Majesty.

She picks daisies for me
and tucks them into my jeans.

.......................I wake
.......................and study her back.

J.R. MacLean
July 5th, 2010, 12:44 PM
Lovely and sad, silver moon. Makes me glad I wandered over here for a peek. Just a few suggestions below.

cheers
J.R.



Turned down,
it's the petticote of the Tiger Lily. petticoat
Narcissus jonquils, midget tulips,
clustered in a shot glass
and pansies with hateful faces
make for a maniacal garden.
sun flowers way taller than me,
atop stalks, sturdy and green,
Would never bend to a royal wind.

A hula skirt made
from itís leaves, torn and
tucked into my jeans
while I swerve my hips to
exotic sunset tra-la-la.

Imaginings and
Hawaiian dancing
make for a smile this stanza could be deleted
which is always
the run-away.

Itís this garden unkept
where I spin and fall
while Mommy,
the Weeping Willow,
bows to a whisky glass,
pouring herself to sleep.

Dreaming flowerlessly,
like my milky dreams
gone sour in the night?

In bed, beads of sweat on her brow
remind me of the morning dew.
It has to. It has to!

I crawl in.
Little mind takes a dive.

I'll bring
Mother's nature
to the garden patch.

And water it
beneath the sun.

She'll grow, sprouting smiles.
Most beautiful Flower of all.

I wake.
Still, she sleeps.

I study Her back.

SilverMoon
July 5th, 2010, 01:17 PM
J.R.,Thanks very much, your suggestions are excellent and will promptly make the changes. And thanks for the kudos! Laurie

Gumby
July 6th, 2010, 06:12 PM
This is very sad and touching, Laurie. I can see the child clearly, so innocent yet wise beyond her years. Much enjoyed!

Foxryder
July 7th, 2010, 01:01 AM
A sad tale you paint, Laurie. Was the narrator trying to find solace in the garden rather than in her mom who was taken by alcohol? The flowered picture sailed nicely.

I hope I don't bore you with my questions every time you post a new poem.

SilverMoon
July 7th, 2010, 01:07 AM
Cindy, as I said next door, not everyone would pick up on the strength and wisdom. You validate the child in this poem. Laurie

SilverMoon
July 7th, 2010, 01:15 AM
Foxy! I lol First of all because your questions are never boring! And poetry is about asking questions.

The little girl is surrounded by abscence. The only one with her alcoholic mother. The garden isn't really real, yet real in her imagination and stands for the Life this little girl should have had. A dream. Then the "real" dream where she creates an available loving mother. She wakes, studies her mother's back (turned away from her). She just "studies", feeling nothing. She's cut herself off from painful emotions in order to survive.

MeeQ
July 7th, 2010, 02:26 AM
Turned down,
it's the petticoat of the Tiger Lily.
Narcissus jonquils, midget tulips, (Best two descriptions to place side by side, much curiosity. well done)
clustered in a shot glass (Also bang on)
and Pansies with wicked faces
make for a child's
curious, solitary garden.

It's the Sunflower,
taller than I ever could muster (Didn't like the pause the 'where' brought)
bumble bees dance then lunch
furry circle bound by yellow. (Removed 'in')
Stalks, sturdy and green
never bending to a royal wind, (These two lines... wow, just wow)
only to me.

A hula skirt made
from itís leaves torn (Removed the 'and' plus the comma)
tucked into my jeans.
As tropical as I can be,
swerving my hips
an exotic sunset tra-la-la. (Changed 'the' to 'an')

Imaginings in a
Hawaiian dance
make for a smile, (comma)
which is always
the run-away, (Comma... maybe)
in dappled domicile. (sometimes you really just capture the naturistic flow, amazing)
 
Itís this garden unkempt
where I spin and fall
while Mommy,
the Weeping Willow,
bows to a whisky glass,
pouring herself to sleep.

Dreaming flowerless, (I kinda feel the 'ly' is unnervingly childlike)
like my milky dreams
gone sour in the night?

In bed, beads of sweat on her brow
reminisce of morning dew.
It has to. It has to!

I crawl in.
Little mind takes a dive.

I'll bring
Mother's nature
to the garden patch.

And water it
beneath the sun.

She'll grow, sprouting smiles,
the most beautiful flower of all. (Capital removed)

Even the Sunflower
will bow to Her Majesty.

She picks daisies for me
and tucks them into my jeans.

Hope I wasn't too harsh. This was some great capturing of emotions via nature.
You still remain one of my preferred poets to read.

Keep it up missy miss.

SilverMoon
July 7th, 2010, 03:30 AM
Thank you, MeeQ. As it stands, I'm still punctuation challenged! So, I appreciate your input and will be going over.

I'm hooked on "Flowerlessly", I'm afraid, as it is coming from the child's imagination.

And you were not too harsh, just honest which is a redeemable quality. And thank you! Geez, I hope I meet up to your expectations. Fondly, Laurie

un named
July 7th, 2010, 06:48 AM
wow. that was amazing. sad touching, full of imagery, and the innocence of a child. i loved it.

SilverMoon
July 7th, 2010, 01:49 PM
Thank you so, un named. I'm very glad you liked it. Laurie

MeeQ
July 7th, 2010, 01:58 PM
I never write about flowers unless there are weeds

This made me laugh.
Still highly interested to see a revision. (if you decide it's necessary)
Keep in touch.

SilverMoon
July 7th, 2010, 02:20 PM
This was confusing to me.

from it’s leaves torn (Removed the 'and' plus the comma)
It's about her imaginings...e.g. The Sunflower, "its stalks never bending to a royal wind," Then the Hawaiian dance, a separate thing as "active".[/QUOTE]

Imaginings in a Hawaiian dance
I think remininisce is too much of a large word for "this" poem

In bed, beads of sweat on her brow
reminisce of morning dew.
If you notice, I've caped She, Her, throughout, using creative license to indicate how important and large in mind "She" was for little girl. I caped "Flower" in the same vein as she became THE flower to the child.

She'll grow, sprouting smiles,
the most beautiful flower of all. (Capital removed)
I hope I've explained my reasoning clearly. Always would appreciate the attention the you paid to this poem. You brought up some salient points causing me to think things through. Thank You.

"I never write about flowers unless there are weeds"......

I'm laughing! You busted me. It's true. I could never just write about a pretty garden and leave it at that! I tried once and it was ridiculous. Laurie

vangoghsear
July 8th, 2010, 10:01 PM
I was dawn in very visually and emotionally when the metaphor was introduced.

Here:


It’s this garden unkept
where I spin and fall
while Mommy,
the Weeping Willow,
bows to a whisky glass,
pouring herself to sleep.


In the ending, I think you lead us down a garden path that you did not intend (or perhaps you did?).




I wake
and study her back.

The fact that you wake and study her back implies that you are sharing a bed. I don't think that you were hinting at a type of abuse, which this would suggest, more a wistful longing for the mother to notice the child, but abuse was my first thought. I think it's an easy fix. Just show us the transition from waking to viewing her back, something as simple as:

I wake,
walk to where
she sleeps,
and study her back.

Overall i like this very much. Nice job.

SilverMoon
July 8th, 2010, 10:10 PM
Interesting, van. I never thought it would hint at abuse but people other than yourself might go there too, so I'm going to think of something long the lines of your suggestion to make the situation clear. Thank you! Am pleased you found it stirred your emotions and appreciation of the visuals.

vangoghsear
July 8th, 2010, 10:42 PM
I crawl in bed
to be near the morning dew
and slip away.

I'll bring
Mother's nature
to the garden patch.

And water it
beneath the sun.

She'll grow, sprouting smiles,
the most beautiful Flower yet seen.

Even the Sunflower
will bow to Her Majesty.

She picks daisies for me
and tucks them into my jeans.

I wake
and study her back.

That fixes it. since the child crawls into bed on her own, it removes the idea of impropriety. It also adds to our sense of the longing for mother's attention in the child. Excellent change.

SilverMoon
July 8th, 2010, 10:44 PM
Thanks, van. Thanks to your insight! :salut:

wacker
July 9th, 2010, 02:25 AM
Hello Laurie
This poem is beautiful and sad at the same time. Capturing the mind of a child as an adult is always tough,,, but you seemed to cope with it very well.

It certainly is a challenge to put yourself in the frame as that child and how to tell her story in such a poetic fashion... Wonderful

Wacker

SilverMoon
July 9th, 2010, 10:21 AM
Thank you, wacker. Even though sad I did enjoy writing the poem, putting all the puzzle pieces together. Laurie

Chesters Daughter
July 14th, 2010, 02:35 AM
Whenever I encounter a child whose eyes are wise far beyond their years, it breaks my heart. The resilience and never wavering hope of your child is so palpable that I am at a loss for words. I was so completely moved by this piece, so much so, I have to leave it at that. "Milky dreams gone sour" actually brought me to tears. Your ability to capture that which is unkind and transform it into something of worded beauty never ceases to amaze me. Your pen is blessed.

SilverMoon
July 14th, 2010, 02:45 AM
Lisa, know I don't know what to say. Your beautiful words of sentiment. I don't really want to make people cry but feel. And if they "feel" the need to cry, I suppose this is a good thing for both the reader and the writer. Sometimes the writer sheds a tear or two. Not easy work but work which brings me so much pleasure. So much "life". Thank you so, Laurie