. Green leaves rise through the earth unfurling from embryonic seeds instinctively reaching for the sun while nature nourishes each blind need Kittens cavort in a garden playfully pawing petals Butterflies brighten the meadow trusting their delicate wings flitting to land on pink lunches as they battle each rushing breeze Eagles alight on trees flying free, soaring high ignoring blossoms that bloom and die Tall trees broaden their branches preparing to reproduce before leaves fall I hefted my gaining weight across transmuting phases of embryo, kitten, butterfly, eagle. I have played out the part of tree. Finally acknowledging mortality I liken it to a seasonal fruit whose roots must wither to make room for fresh plants to bloom and g r o w .
While this poem has only a tenuous connection to it, it was inspired by something my brother copied down many years ago. I think he heard it on the Sonny and Cher Show. Maybe it was set to music, maybe not. Snatches of it often play in my mind, and yet I can find no record of it anywhere. It speaks of the ego of youth – the feeling that the world is yours, and you can do anything. Here are a couple of stanzas:
Look at you, look at me,
standing ten feet tall are we.
Look at them, look at us
wondering why they make such fuss.
Look at me then look again
and maybe you’ll remember when
you stood this tall and knew it too,
and the whole world turned to look at you.
Does anyone recognise it? It would make my day if I could get a full copy.
Also, I’d really appreciate an honest critique of my poem. I’ve been battling with it for days, and I’m still not sure whether it works. You can pull out all the stops; if it is weak, I’d prefer to know.
©Jane Paterson Basil
This one is very different to your usual. I like the visual effect – like leaves falling…. it paints a picture of spring for me. Each little verse could be the makings of a poem on its own. It’s like watching spring unfold through the writer’s eye as it roams the landscape. So there is a connect yet also a disconnect if that makes sense. Like each stanza stands on its own, coming together in the last, the tree. In a way it feels incomplete to me – is that what you were striving for? A burgeoning into something…
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Each leaf is meant to represent a different stage in life. I’m feeling a bit stuck at the moment, so I kept badgering away at this poem even though it didn’t feel right. I don’t deal well with technical difficulties and the hassle I’ve had with my new mobile and internet supplier has been driving me nuts. My inspiration goes when I’m unable to connect with you guys.
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Know those feelings all too well! Hope things get sorted out soon and you can get on with just being your awesome creative self 🙂
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It’s all sorted now. I. Have. Unlimited. Broadband – now I just have to swap my horrible new phone for my lovely old one, which I made the mistake of giving away…
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Isn’t that always the case! Our so called unlimited National Broadband Network is a *** joke!
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Oh gods! Does that mean you’ll be online more often to harass poor souls like me?
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That’s the plan.
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Hurrah for this line: I
hefted
my gaining weight
across transmuting phases
of embryo, kitten, butterfly, eagle.!!!!
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Thank you!
Transmuting – did I really use that word? I Find it strange, reading lines from poetry that I wrote even a day or two ago; it takes a while for me to recognise my own work.
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As for the Sony and Cher — I might have heard them sing that, or something very similar once. Too long ago and far away to be sure, though. Sorry I can’t help more than that.
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Damn!
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I love the petal format. The poem seems to be more about spring, however, than the cycle of life — until the last stanza. From spring to the full cycle is a bit — I don’t know what the word I’m looking for is. Not ‘jarring” but something like that. Maybe it could use another petal or two about summer and fall?
The images are great. And I think the message is a profound one. Even on a biological level, death is “justified” by the need for the old to get out of the way of the new.
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The purpose of this poem got lost along the way. I got blocked, since there was no room in my head for anything except my mobile and broadband frustration, but I stubbornly refused to give up on it. I’ve moved on. I don’t think it’s worth trying to sort it out.
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I see. Well, keep it around in a drawer or something. I’ve reworked old poems I didn’t like years later into something decent.
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I’ve got so much half-finished writing kicking around that I was glad when I accidentally deleted 100 or so pages that I’d forgotten to back up.
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Savage! The destruction of your notes and drafts will cripple future scholars. Tsk. Tsk.
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“ignoring blossoms that
bloom and die”
I love that thought. It so adds to the image of eagles.
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Thanks, Paul. That’s the bit which is supposed to relate to the Sonny and Cher thing; the youthful feeling of power and immortality.
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I like the idea that spring and nature continue to do their thing – an ongoing cycle – even though the narrator is fully aware of their place in it all. The eagles may be unaware of anything other than their own soaring but your narrator knows where they will end up – giving way to make space for the next generation. I get what Paul means – perhaps more leaves describing other seasons? Lovely imagery
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Thank you for your useful comments Lynn. I’m pleased that I posted it. It confirms everything I believed about the poem, and tells me I should trust my instincts. Normally I’d have given up on it and maybe returned later, but I was being stubborn although I felt uninspired.
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Sometimes it’s really worth sticking with something, though. A kernel of a good idea can sprout sideways sometimes, taking you off on unexpected spurs. My pleasure 🙂
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Such Fantabulous creations! 😎🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀
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