Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Experiencing Change (Poem)

Experiencing Change

We know of the rain burning
        the scent of orange blossom deep into skin,

five perfumed pistils like tiny fingers wagging
        their come-on to start new life. We know

of yellow stars tumbling to ground, teetering on pointe,
        their diamond-sharpened edges etching water the color

of blue ice. We know of valleys in the moon
        so capacious we must mime our own arms spreading

wide to contain their black depths. We know of the fold
        of too-sun-tanned leaves giving up their grip.

Here, now, we welcome sleep quartered into its seasons,
        let brain-stormed days break from fevered nights.

© 2012 Maureen E. Doallas

25 comments:

Steve Gravano said...

The seasons of life. How profoundly different they are from each other.

Louise Gallagher said...

This is stunningly beautiful Maureen.

S. Etole said...

Yes, beautiful.

Megan Willome said...

I like "brain-stormed days" and "sleep quartered into its seasons."

Peggy said...

Maureen, I love that it is entirely through images that you construct your poem. Also how "We know" keeps shifting its position within the line (which reminds me of the rhetorical strategy of MLK's "I have a dream" speech which I re-heard yesterday: the new dream, as in your poem's new "knowing," comes within the same breath as the close of the previous one, so that the reader is propelled onward). Magnificent.

turtlememoir said...

Stunning images, Maureen - what a wonderful read! I love:

rain burning
the scent of orange blossom deep into skin


and even more:

yellow stars tumbling to ground, teetering on pointe,
their diamond-sharpened edges etching water the color

of blue ice.

Peggy Rosenthal said...

Hi again, I thought google would put my full name with my comment above. So, in case you know lots of Peggys, it's me (oops, I): Peggy Rosenthal.

Maureen said...

I was fairly certain it was you, Peggy. I must say I did not realize how I'd placed "We know" until you pointed it out. Entirely unconscious!

Thank you all for the wonderful comments. They are much appreciated.

Kellie Elmore said...

I love how you tantalize each of the senses with imagery and fragrance! A wonderfully lovely read!

my latest
http://magicinthebackyard.wordpress.com/2012/01/17/we-make-love/

Divalounger said...

Just gorgeous writing!


AAudreyHowitt

zongrik said...

great imagery especially the yellow stars

Mama Zen said...

Gorgeous imagery!

Heaven said...

You beautifully captured the images of the changing seasons ~

Brian Miller said...

some really great imagery as you step through those seasons of life maureen...

ayala said...

Beautiful imagery!

Pat Hatt said...

A great seasonal life trip, really evoked the feeling of each, nice!

poemblaze said...

Lovely phrasing throughout, especially liked the finger wagging come on of the pistils.

nance marie said...

a whole different kind of garden.
people usually feel better after the fever breaks.
and
i'm starting to think that there just may be more than four seasons.

jen revved said...

Exquisite lyricism in this poem, Maureen-- I especially loved:

We know

of yellow stars tumbling to ground, teetering on pointe,
their diamond-sharpened edges etching water the color

of blue ice. We know of valleys in the moon
so capacious we must mime our own arms spreading

wide to contain their black depths. We know of the fold
of too-sun-tanned leaves giving up their grip.

An image-rich poems with exquisite facets! xxxj

Shashi S said...

Life ends up having many seasons, and one of them is fall too. I liked your thoughts ... and the way you have communicated. Thanks for sharing..

Shashi

ॐ नमः शिवाय
Om Namah Shivaya
http://shadowdancingwithmind.blogspot.com/2012/01/whispers-haiku-on-how-i-write-poetry.html
At twitter @VerseEveryDay

Lisa W. Rosenberg said...

Maureen, I love your use of language, particularly the stars "teetering on pointe, their
diamond-sharpened edges etching water the color of blue ice."

Lovely poem, lovely blog!

Beachanny said...

Your images always seem so free, so natural and yet so surprisingly fresh. They set one's mind in gyre painting them onto the canvas you provide in a different way in every poem. Here delicate orange blossoms glow exuding perfume, stars en pointe dance, and as they finish their grande jete the color the frozen winter blue and sing of frozen places on the moon. None of this I've ever seen, and yet I'm as certain of how it looks as if I'd seen them on some exotic trip. Always breathtakingly well done, Maureen. I've missed reading you! Thank you.

robkistner said...

The way a poem begins, and especially the way it ends, its final thought, final statement, is so very important -- this piece ends brilliantly Maureen, bursting the mind open to ponder profound possibility...

"Here, now, we welcome sleep quartered into its seasons,
let brain-stormed days break from fevered nights."

Jan Richardson said...

Beautiful gift of a poem, Maureen. I grew up amongst orange groves and still have their blossoms burnt into my skin; thank you for that line in particular, and for "sleep quartered into its seasons."

Bless you for the words.

C Rose said...

a lovely way that you tie in the couplets and the images you create are spectacular to the vision. wonderful write ~ Rose