at our feet
Time is the black milk
we drink
morning
noon
& night
Our skin hammers
hard walls
seeking water &
adding petals
Sun flares
bloody red, hot oilseeds
on ground
One blindman's word above leaded sky:
flower
Picture credit: here
Posted for the Imaginary Garden for Real Toads - Featuring the work by Paul Celan. The post is inspired by his poem, Flower.
and Poets United - Thanks for the visit ~
'Time is the black milk we drink' - beautiful and profound.. i hope we can all flower even if we have stones at our feet
ReplyDeleteInteresting break down of elements in this Grace. From the stones of our foundation, to something as insubstantial as time to a flower. We are all blind in many ways, relying on our senses to determine and define the world around us - giving name to something to give it form. But how far short does "flower" fall from what we really want to say?
ReplyDeleteTo flower is that wish.. a name, but with the black milk and stones at our feet we can just hope..
ReplyDeleteLoved the second stanza.. its so deep and thought-provoking.. indeed time takes its toll on us all. Excellent write :)
ReplyDeleteLots of love,
Sanaa
I like the metaphor here... A flower has to work so very hard to survive!
ReplyDelete"Our skin hammers / hard walls / seeking water & / adding petals"....love this, specially 'adding petals'...hope blossoming may be...
ReplyDeleteFlower has to drink it all in to stay alive
ReplyDeletei echo Mary...i enjoy the metaphor...my night last night felt i had drank 'black milk' because i couldnt get to sleep thinking of not necessarily my struggle with life and death but the struggles of those around me that i love including my two aging pups. wonderful write mi amiga
ReplyDeletevery powerful
ReplyDeleteA really interesting use of the Celan--I feel like the black milk in his has a lot to do with ashes (from the Holocaust), but you have used this in a much more positive way, but also very vivid and real feeling. Wonderful closing. Thanks, Grace, as always for interesting poem and prompt. k.
ReplyDeleteWe must, mustn't we? Although once we Peak in time, we mortals will see the end coming. Flower! How can we not! But I see--will myself to see--smiles and sun in the sky. We are not the last flowers, flowering.
ReplyDeleteThis is BRILLIANT. I read Celan's poem Flower and yours in response is a wonder. Your closing lines especially.
ReplyDeleteOur skin hammers
ReplyDeletehard walls
seeking water &
adding petals
love these lines
This is my favorite:
ReplyDelete"Our skin hammers
hard walls"
Am I the only one who thinks it's ridiculous that the man gets to tell the flowers when to do their thing? The closing word is a "verb," not a noun. This dude has them all twisting around in his wind, and they're just sitting around waiting for him to conduct them into an explosion of color. How stupid. THEY are the color. He's just trying to play puppetmaster, but they're the ones who really have the goods. They just don't realize it. Ahem, ladies: You don't need a man to show YOU how to be a woman. Men are only jealous that they aren't as pretty and sexy as we are. :P They're really so very limited. That's why they pretend to control us. And what do we do? Way too often, we just bow down. It's absurd. One day, all the world will be comprised of lesbians. Then will die off in style. Or just make girl babies via science.
I really like how you open and close in a similar way...at ground level. Powerfully written poem, Grace. Thank you, for the challenge. :)
ReplyDeleteTime is the black milk
ReplyDeletewe drink
Love that.
Wow - poignant! And the second poem that I have read today that spoke of black milk - what an image!
ReplyDeleteOh - I forgot. I have a new blog:
ReplyDeletehttp://nohwherebuthere.blogspot.com
Fabulous image of the red sunflower....we all do want to flower....a hope and a fight working against those stones....loved this.
ReplyDeleteYes, I much prefer your poem. For us time is the enemy yet we just don't have enough of it yet the flowers think only of seasons and welcome every one.
ReplyDeleteThe black sunflower makes me wonder..it is known for it's rich oil..birds like them as they spread oil on their wings...Do we as humans also need the rich oil to make us blossom?
ReplyDeleteAn intense and thought provoking poem - powerfully rendered.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful Grace!!
ReplyDeletexo
This is a most beautiful poem, Grace. Your light touch has created a lasting impression.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful words and images.
ReplyDelete"Our skin hammers
hard walls
seeking water &
adding petals" .... the only way to growth
Very strong poem, makes the words potent.
ReplyDeleteGorgeous poem, and especially powerful was the second verse.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful in its own right.
ReplyDeleteYes flower and then join the salad.
ReplyDeleteI love you ending with hope~ Strong visuals-which I love. Brilliant, Grace!
ReplyDeleteI *love* that 2nd stanza ~
ReplyDelete