And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud
was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. ~ Anais Nin
What if the only thing nurtured is violence?
What blossoms then?
Dead ends with shotgun shells?
Petals pulsating pools of blood?
A tired earth that constantly quakes?
Flakes over cities that never see snow?
Where did all the flowers go?
Brenda Warren 2014
For Day 4, Elizabeth asked us to write a poem in a form we seldom use. For me? Questions. In its entirety. I like it. But I didn’t like it until the last line landed. Sometimes that last line evades you for awhile. The Anais Nin quote floated through a Facebook post and became fodder for this piece.
Wow…this came together like the rush of spring runoff. Enjoyed wandering around this morning!
This poem is very clever Brenda: it draws us in with a pretty title, then punches us in the stomach with a postulated hopeless future that hurts me to think about, but is all too likely.
You ask some very poignant and important questions here, Brenda. Nice write. I thought I was going to have a nice quiet evening, and half of my nearly ten feet tall cactus just fell over in my yard. What a mess.
What next? Maybe Warren will come home. Thanks for stopping to read. It brings me joy to partake in April with you.
I dare not ask that question, Brenda. Someone told this week Warren ran away, because he was taking Michael to heaven. Hmm…
Seal the deal…………..the last line does it…………questions questions everywhere and not a drop to drink………….always nice to read your lines of weaving and blossoming scents of wonder my friend.
This is one of those poems where every line brings a flood of sense imagery, sound, sights, and feelings, and the reader must go back and read it again and perhaps another time, to slow the rushing stream your words have created. Wowzers! This is fantastic Brenda, and that includes that very last line.