Autumn Begins

Pretty ... Hurts

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Pretty ... hurts,
 --shine a light--
  on whatever's worse.

Perfection is the dis-ease //
  of (our) nation
.
.
.
It is the sOul that needs the surgery.

//

Attachment to things...
         let it go,
   let them go. It is for the
                 best.

All we truly own is this s.i.n.g.l.e.

precious m o m ent

And in the precious moment is a
simple choice --

    joy, sorrow
    love or hate
    life or death

There is no wrong answer here.

It simply is what it is
and based on our choice --

becomes what it will
    be
       c
         o
           m
              e.

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With humble gratitude to:
Beyoncé, Louisa, e e cummings, Alan Watts, HRH, and Him and Her

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"Dahlia: A Study" in progress...

My love, I will return to thee...

It's there somewhere
the love between grows
with each passing minute
the love between ebbs and flows.

Marriage is work
filled with moments
of false riches, hatred of deeds,
the elegance left behind.

We attempt to dispel
these headaches - these
heartaches - to cleanse
and find the natural vitality
of life and love again.

We stumble in our pride
caught in the haughtiness
and find we miss what we were
not realizing the joy that comes
after the growing pains
subside.

Each love is thorny,
and we may complain
that rose bushes have thorns
but covering the thorns in
maternal love eases the pain.

My love, I will return
to thee, more fully me
than I ever was
before.

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Dahlia: elegance; joy
Rose: ambassador of love; beauty; grace
Foxglove: work; stateliness; self-ambition
Basil: hatred; best wishes, good luck
Zinnia: thought of absent friends; 'I miss you'
Moss: maternal love
Sunflower: haughtiness; false riches; natural vitality

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Sunflower: A Study

The sunflower.  The sunflower is such an iconic flower.  Most who can little distinguish one flower from another can call the sunflower by name. 

The genus name of sunflower is Helianthus which comes from the Greek "helios" meaning sun and "anthos" meaning flowers. The sunflower is native to America and Peru. Ancient Peruvians used the sunflower as a symbol to worship the god of day. It has been a muse to many including Vincent van Gogh.  In the language of flowers the sunflower holds several emblematic meanings. Let's explore them together in this study.

In the quaint Language of Flowers by Kate Greenaway the symbolic meaning for the sunflower depends on it's height.  If it is the dwarf sunflower, adoration is its claim.  The tall sunflower equates to haughtiness.  The Secret Language of Flowers by Shane Connolly also echoes these sentiments however for the dwarf sunflower he adds, 'Your devout admirer.'

Haughtiness is also the symbolic name given by Sheila Pickles in The Language of Flowers.  She quotes Thomas Moore in her explanation,

"No, the heart that has truly lov'd never forgets,

But as truly loves onto the close,

As the sun-flower turns on her god, when he sets,

The same look which she turn'd when he rose."

 

Haughtiness seems to be prescribed because of the sunflower's great height compared with other garden flower friends.  But being haughty is not all the sunflower represents.

 

In Flora's Lexicon by Catharine Waterman, she prescribes "lofty and pure thoughts." She notes that in its native of Peru and Mexico the sunflower can grow to 20 feet in height! I love this quote Waterman includes from John Clare's poem Rustic Evening...

 

"Where rustic taste at leisure trimly weaves

The rose and straggling woodbine to the eaves,

And on the crowded spot that pales enclose

The white and scarlet daisy rears in rows,

Training the trailing peas in cluster neat,

Perfuming evening with a luscious sweet,

And sunflowers planting for their gilded show,

That scale the windows' lattice ere they blow,

And, sweet to habitants within the sheds,

Peep through the crystal panes their golden heads."

 

 

In Henry Phillips' Floral Emblems the sunflower is prescribed as ''false riches."  He states that the sunflower is so associated with false riches "because gold of itself, however abundant, cannot render a person rich who is poor in spirit."  He also provides a delightful quote from Barton...

 

"Uplift, proud sunflower, to thy favorite orb

That disk whereon his brightness loves to dwell;



 And as thou seem'st his radiance to absorb,

Proclaim thyself the garden's sentinel."

 

Finally, The Language of Flowers Symbols and Myths by Marina Heilmeyer provides a completely different view of the sunflower which I greatly admire.  Heilmeyer marks the sunflower as a "vital source of food, medicine and oil; natural vitality; loyalty; pride; devotion..." She comments on how the American Indians were cultivating the wild sunflower species dating back to 3000 BC.  They used it as an "important source of food and medicine as well as a pigment for body paint." Heilmeyer also states, "In Christian iconography, the sunflower signified believers' devotion to the Catholic church.  Like the flower that always grows towards the light - towards the divine sun- it represents the devout soul striving towards god."

 

I feel each lexicon has its place.  Sometimes one may feel haughtiness or false riches is needed.  Other times one may want to express loyalty and devotion.  The yin and yang of this lovely, brilliant flower is delightfully welcomed.





I yearn to return

I yearn to return
to a simpler way of life
without the multiple
distractions that cause
such strife.

I long for personal connection
without a screen in between.
A time of quiet and peace
where people call on one another
for long walks beside a stream.

Certainly simple does not
equate with easy.
But the question I have
is would the loneliness feel
so potent - leaving me squeezed?

Lost Poems: i guess love is...

i guess love is...

Red painted stains against the
       chiseled heat.
Tears breaking me open.
        Pained sweetness
as honey sucked through a straw.


Poem originally written in the spring of 2003.

Lost Poems: 4:30 AM

Iridescent swollen moon
wakes me with its glow
nesting on my pillows.

Before I rested my head,
the orb was hanging
low in the east sky.

Now he's starting his descent
to the west to set
until tomorrow's night.

Train's whistle gone
unheard had the moon not
bobbed his head in my window.

The metal wheels pound
against the cold steel rails
as it drones through the night.

Seven whistles blown
in the last five minutes
distorting the sympathetic silence.


Poem originally written in the Spring 2003