For last year’s SOL March Challenge I wrote 31 poems about birds. This year, I’m challenging myself to write 31 poems about spring, my favorite season. I decided to give myself 31 spring poems for my 68th birthday, which is in April! Here I go!
Thank you to Stacey and the TWT staff for offering up this SOL March Challenge. This is my 3rd year, and I’ve enjoyed it immensely. I’ve learned so much and connected with so many wonderful people. I wish your a springtime of peace, joy, and beauty!
March 31, 2024
In Praise of Lily-of-the-Valley
As I walk through the valley
and darkness descends,
I am unafraid.
I continue to walk
through every shadow
that is cast before me.
Where there was once
threatening clouds,
the sky has cleared.
Brightness leads my way,
and I walk on.
There, I find in the sunlight,
a field of lilies-of-the valley,
that stand before me in full bloom,
deeply rooted, possessing great beauty.
I breathe their sweet fragrance
into my grateful heart.
I am changed,
I am unafraid,
I walk on.
March 30, 2024
Fire Flower
Watch me –
I am the fire,
I am the flame,
I am a tiger lily
Rising from the garden green.
I cannot be put out,
I cannot be put down,
I am the fire.
I am the flame,
I am the flower blossoming,
Mango-colored into the air
Like a wildfire, like a spark
Fierce and free-
Watch me!
March 29, 2024
Make Your Presence Known
The clouds make their presence known.
Swirling white and gray,
Ever-moving, shapeshifting,
Becoming new, changed.
The rain makes its presence known.
Solid, steady drops -
Gray, silver, glistening,
Soaking the earth, nourishing.
The sun makes its presence known.
Shy at first, hesitating -
Peeking behind great columns of clouds,
Finding her voice at last and shining.
The daisies make their presence known,
Steadfast open door to heaven,
Showing their sunny faces,
Pure perennial beauty.
The birds make their presence known,
Taking cover under the thickets
Until the rain slowly ceases,
Then soaring with a song, into the air.
March 28, 2024
Spring Messenger
The tall, beautiful iris,
named after the Greek goddess,
a beautiful young maiden
with wings on her shoulders
who rode rainbows.
Iris traveled from cloud to sea,
connecting heaven and earth,
carrying messages from the gods.
White, yellow, deep purple, mauve pink,
Iris comes in many magical colors,
three outer petals hanging down,
three inner petals standing upright,
abundant, rugged, and reliable.
Carrying a sweet message
Spring has returned,
Courage, wisdom, and hope abide.
March 27, 2024
Where Youth and Old Age Dwell
In gardens, fields, and meadows
multicolored zinnias bloom,
favorites of butterflies and hummingbirds,
sweet nectar, cannot resist.
A beautiful New World flower,
yellow, orange, red and pale lilac petals.
The Navajo used the precious petals
to make bright yellow and red dye.
Legend tells of an ever-changing-woman
who gave yellow zinnias to a Navajo child
to help him protect the corn fields.
Zinnias now grow along with the corn.
In the center of the zinnia
a new flower appears to be
blooming within an older one -
where youth and old age dwell.
March 26, 2024
Peonies
Tight fist of petals
punch through
lush leaves.
Pink-white jolts
through the green.
Slowly, so slowly
unfolding
petal by petal.
Trusting and opening,
spreading wide,
taking in all
of blue heaven,
revealing your center,
your strength.
March 25, 2024
Bird-of-Paradise
Wings and flaming beaks,
Flashing purple-blue tails,
Bright orange crown,
Brilliant tropical color.
Look again. Can it be?
You are no bird at all!
Just long graceful petals
Sharp and striking.
Suspended, proudly perched
On a tall sturdy stem,
Rising from the fertile soil,
Ready to soar.
March 24, 2024
Springtime Sisters
Throughout the seasons
in fine trimmed gardens,
dogwood, mountain laurel, hostas,
hydrangea, and hellebore grow
alongside springtime sisters,
azalea and rhododendron –
a mutual crescendo of white, coral,
carmine, yellow, pink, and purple.
Striking spectacles in dappled shade:
Small, delicate Azalea blossoms
Sweet home for hummingbirds,
in autumn she loses her leaves,
while Rhododendron bears
fragrant trumpet-shaped flowers.
She keeps her large oval leaves,
Evergreen and ever true.
March 23, 2024
I survived a 15-hour drive from South Carolina to New Jersey! Whoo! Hoo! Today, I’m thinking about tulips and their incredible history. They are cultivated and don’t grow wild, except in parts of Eurasia and Africa. Their native ranges is from Portugal and Morocco to western China.
Springtime Love
Years and years ago,
Persian poets celebrated
the beauty of the tulip.
Three centuries later,
they grew in palace gardens
of the Ottoman Empire.
Then brought to Holland,
flourished and prospered,
a welcome sign of spring.
At first, small and bright red,
tulips were magically transformed
into flaming shades of color.
Once rare and expensive,
Now, ordinary beauties,
Everyone’s springtime love.
March 22, 2024
Today, my thoughts turn to the lilac. This flower was also one of my mother’s favorites. When I see them blossoming, I think of her and sweet memories return. As I researched this flower, I came across the myth of Pan and Syringa. Syringa is derived from from Ancient Greek word syrinx meaning “pipe.” I am finding all these flower myths, legends, and connections very interesting!
Awakening
Oh, the smell of spring!
Fragrant lilacs billowing
over the pergola,
creating a mantle
for bees and butterflies.
Pan, god of wild nature,
in love with nymph, Syringa,
chased her through the forest,
but she turned herself
into a sweet lilac bush.
Pan found the lilac
and made its branches
into a panpipe, filling the air
with sweet perfume,
spring’s song awakening.
March 21, 2024
I love bleeding heart flowers. They are the quintessential symbol of spring for me. Somehow, they don’t even look quite real. They look more like some beautiful piece of jewelry or some silk decoration for a beautiful spring bonnet. I did some research and found their legend.
Unconditional
Pendulous pink and white
heart-shaped flowers
suspended from curve branches.
Folded blooms tell a story –
gifts to a fickle princess,
unrequited love.
Sorrow-filled prince,
no longer has a will to live,
leaves his princess grieving.
Rose-pink bleeding hearts,
unconditional love,
return every year in spring.
March 20, 2024
Thinking about the wildflowers that bloomed in my backyard when I was young. I loved that house because of those wildflowers. The house itself was a small, rust-colored Cape Cod. But the backyard was immense and there was a hillside with all kinds of wildflowers. My imagination grew up in that meadow. Here’s a poem to pay homage to that memory.
Wildflowers
The hillside of my childhood imagination
is covered with flowers in wild abundance:
Black-eyed Susan, Queen Anne’s Lace,
Sweet peas, daisies, and snapdragons.
Bees hovering above each flower,
suspended, drunk on pollen.
Their happy feet stained like the sun,
dancing on and on in the spring air.
I’d climb up the hillside,
bending and stooping
with a small pair of scissors,
gathering spring in my hands.
Running into the house,
reaching for a glass jar,
filling it with cool water,
colors of spring for my mother.
March 19, 2024
I still have dandelions on my mind. I love that they go through a golden then a silver puff stage, and that old stage is the time when they disperse their seeds. In this way, the cycle goes on and on. In addition, the lowly dandelion is edible and has significant health benefits. Dandelions contain antioxidants, support liver health, fight inflammation, help to manage blood sugar, and may lower blood pressure. My grandmother used to pick dandelions and put the leaves in salads, soups, and stews. She also dried the leaves and made dandelion tea. It was too bitter for me as a child, but I loved going out with her and picking the dandelions.
Dandelion
A weed in the garden
Stands tall,
Straight stem.
First budding golden,
Then as you age
You declare
Your mighty beauty.
Silver-seeded and proud,
Rising above the intentional flowers
Planted with purpose
In uniform rows.
Your jagged leaves spread,
You boldly proclaim,
"Here are my precious seeds!"
The wind hears and blows.
Pieces of you scatter
In every direction,
Covering the earth.
March 18, 2024
I was inspired again by yet another blogger! Three in a row! That is surely good luck! Molly Hogan’s post, “Weed or Flower?” delved into the subject of publication rejection. I’ve had many of my writings rejected, but not as many as I should have had! I often don’t send in my writings to be judged because I don’t want them to be rejected. However, Molly put rejection into perspective: “ All of my rejected poems are rather like a bouquet of weeds. A rejection doesn’t fundamentally change them or make them unworthy. It might simply mean they weren’t in the right place at the right time.” I am so glad Molly’s poem, “On Eating Your Emotions” was accepted for publication! Congratulations, Molly!
I wrote Dandelion many years ago as part of a poetry novel. I’ve reworked it here making it into stanzas and adding a bit more description. Thanks, Molly for inspiring me to revise and keep on trying to publish!
Dandelion
Your golden head rises –
out of the rusty rubble.
ready now to blossom,
but you’re just another weed.
You push your way out –
between cracks in the sidewalk,
among rocks, bricks,
and bits of broken glass.
You grow strong –
impervious to your surroundings,
your leaves, jagged toothed,
spread green along the old gray ground.
You are not discouraged –
you’ve never depended
upon rain or fertilizer.
you provide your own sunlight.
March 17, 2024
I wanted to create a poem for Saint Patrick’s Day. Cathy at Doodads and Doodles blogged about having a cold and wrote a poem using the Tricube form. I thought I’d try my hand at it. Thanks, Cathy at for the inspiration and I hope your poem helped to cure your cold!
Irish Rose
Irish Rose,
Wild delight,
Youth regained.
Irish Rose,
Blush of spring,
Beauty waits.
Irish Rose,
Garden dream,
Love remains.
March 16, 2024
I’m interrupting my regularly scheduled flower poetry to bring an important message about baby shoes. Sally Donnelly has written two posts about her granddaughter, Aden. The first one was about buying Aden her first pair of shoes, and the second one was about entertaining Aden with children’s songs. As I read, a song came into my head that wouldn’t leave! I had fun and tried to throw in some reference to flowers. Thanks to Sally and Aden for the inspiration!
Baby Needs a New Pair of Shoes
Baby, baby, baby needs
a new pair of shoes.
Laced up and tied,
pretty pink or sailor blue.
Baby, baby, baby needs
A new pair of shoes.
Baby, baby, baby needs
a new pair of shoes.
Buttons, blossoms, or bows
And red ruby sparkles too.
Baby, baby, baby needs
A new pair of shoes.
Baby, baby, baby needs
a new pair of shoes.
In Mary Janes or sneakers
Dancing all the day through.
Baby, baby, baby needs
A new pair of shoes.
Baby, baby, baby needs
a new pair of shoes.
Months on months pass,
Little feet grew.
Baby, baby, baby needs
A new pair of shoes!
March 15, 2024
Hurrah! The Ides of March
The garden is left mud-frosted,
battered and barren from
late snow and spring rain,
starved of light for months.
Hurrah for the Ides of March!
Mid-month is here,
yearning for April’s
lush new growth.
Carefully, quietly earth moves,
pushed up by spring ears
of new green leaves –
color with follow.
Spring is underway
erasing winter’s blight.
Blooming and blossoming -
the hyacinth and crocus return.
March 14, 2024
Within Reach
Wintry dark brown branches
soon show small green buds.
Uncurling the buds open
into flat white petals
bearing a sweet aroma
in the center of each bloom.
When I see these
new white blossoms
of the flowering pear tree,
I remember my father-in-law
loved their appearance
as the first sign of spring.
He’s been gone almost
ten years now,
but their lovely faces –
white with delicate pink
greet me and remind me
spring is just within reach.
March 13, 2024
Resurrection
March rain fell,
fierce and flooding.
Lightning struck,
opening the dark sky
with a jagged crack.
Wind and rain
pelted windowpanes,
rooftops, and railings
mercilessly whipping
everything its path.
In the morning
the only victim
was the magnolia tree
with its fragrant white
luscious flowers.
Our graceful tree,
a herald of spring’s arrival,
the promised sweetness
and warm days to come,
laid split on the wet ground.
The arborist assessed the damage,
salvaged thirty small cuttings,
which will grow over the winter.
Next spring, when weather warms,
the magnolia will bud again.
March 12, 2024
Perseverance
The Lenten Rose
freckled with color,
green, maroon, pink.
Garnet to ruby,
lilac to lavender,
cream to white.
Not a garden rose at all,
rather a blooming evergreen,
part of the buttercup family.
Rose-like flower bud,
five-petal flower,
single or double blossom.
Growing on a carpet
of tranquil green
in dappled sunlight.
Its delicate face
nods downwards,
protecting it from the rain.
March 11, 2024
Reflection
Yellow trumpets of daffodils
ring in the dullest spring day.
Golden, cluster together
on the green hillsides and
among the dappled shade
of an ancient woodland,
or pushing up through the
grasses of a damp meadow,
leaning over the pond’s edge,
admiring its own reflection.
Bright light, new beginnings,
Spring solitude.
March 10, 2024
Hidden
Along the trail
this spring morning,
tiny flowers bloom
beside the just-greening
fallow meadow.
Hidden under leaves,
almost unnoticed,
three petal trillium -
white, yellow, blush,
and red – wake robin,
rise gracefully above
a trinity of green leaves.
Grace, strength, and compassion
look upon this fragile beauty,
protecting it in its place
in this gentle woods.
March 9, 2024
Hope
When Eve was cast out
of the Garden of Eden,
a continuous snow fell.
The earth became cold and barren.
As Eve sat weeping,
down came and an angel,
to comfort Eve.
He caught a snowflake,
and breathed upon it.
The delicate snowflake fluttered,
and sunk into the ground,
Eve’s eyes cast down,
and up through the melted the snow
sprung a tiny white blossom –
a snowdrop brought hope
to the world again.
March 8, 2024
Love Whispers
Among the primroses,
trailing purple lobelia,
and sweet alyssum,
cheerful pansies with
upturned faces
brighten the cool garden.
Large heart-shaped
Overlapping blue, yellow,
and white petals
grow and bloom like magic.
Just waiting to be plucked.
Bend your head down low,
Listen – your love whispers.
March 7, 2024
Hyacinths
Long bright green leaves,
flowers bloom
in the spring garden,
Flamboyant flowers
on tall spires
appear in thick clusters:
shades of blue, purple,
white, pink, and red,
bell-shaped blooms.
small, deeply fragrant
Return every year.
March 6, 2024
Forsythia
Golden like the sunrise.
an ancestor to the olive,
forsythia bloom brilliant yellow
on naked brown branches
in early in spring.
Bees and butterflies
hover and hum.
As spring turns into summer,
forsythia spread wildly or
are trimmed tightly
into a living wall,
protecting nature’s gifts.
March 5, 2024
Persistence
The rhododendron,
laden with fresh snow,
must not be deterred
by the last breath of winter.
A heavy, dead branch
curved and frost-crusted,
slumbers upon it.
A cool breeze stirs icicles
clinging from the evergreens,
which softly drips
onto its green leaves
glistening with snowmelt.
Red buds point their way
towards spring.
March 4, 2024
Hibernation
I
Following the path
Through the woods
Walking in other’s footprints
In the shallow snow,
I feel the tug from the earth,
A call from the bare branches
To come rest in the soft snow,
Sleep till spring.
II
The woods are silent,
The sun is iced-over,
Each branch, each leaf
Is frozen in space and time,
A lone woodpecker lands
Rendering a hollow sound.
III
The elm stands bare-boned,
I rest my cool cheek
Against its smooth trunk,
Take comfort from its
Immense strength,
Sturdy persistence,
Acknowledging the life within.
March 3, 2024
March Morning
Bare branches
fringe the sullen sky,
haunting and motionless.
Even the birds are too cold
to venture out
this March morning.
The slate-gray stones,
which border the garden
are stamped with lichen -
Gray, white, pale green,
like alien snowflakes,
delicate and different.
The earth rests patiently
settling in under compost,
mulch, burlap blankets.
Tufts of grass still green
poke through a thin layer
of fresh fallen snow.
Golden oak leaves
lie frozen in a puddle
suspended till spring.
March 2, 2024
Revival
Early bloomer,
a welcome sight,
peeking up –
pushing through frost
and late winter snow:
orange, pink, white, yellow.
low to the ground,
budding, open faces,
golden towards the sun,
strong perfume beckoning bees,
becoming a carpet of color,
Heralding spring.
March 1, 2024
Anticipation
Winter is fading
the snow, leaving
the grass yellow,
matted down,
barely alive.
Birds come wondering
if this sudden warmth
is just temporary.
Tree buds hold tight
- not yet the time
to blossom and bloom.
Winter holds on
a bit longer.
Hooray for spring, poetry, and for being inspired by other Slicers!
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Marvelous poem, JoAnne. I love your poems imagery and your clever word choices. The last line is spectacular and celebrates the dandelion for being an independent and stubborn weed. Yes, keep trying to publish!
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I love the dandelion poem. I’ll see them in a new way now, like a proud aging matriarch, sharing wisdom. I like that you are rescuing a plant from the negative (and highly subjective)label of weed. I’m sure my yard will produce a bumper crop this spring, and I’ll try to celebrate it.
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I loved reading your poems! The word-play and vivid images you create make it a beautiful read. I connect to dandelions too as we use them a lot in salads back home.
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I loved both of your dandelion poems. They tell a story and remind me that nothing is really a “weed.” Everything belongs, everything serves a purpose. The originality of your words in both poems was very creative. Write on!
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Joanne,
As a child I loved dandelions. I had not yet learned to think of them as weeds. Your poem yesterday and the one today remind me perspective matters when defining weeds and flowers. Is there a children’s book about dandelions? Maybe there should be one. I love Molly’s perspective. I especially love the metaphor in your day 19 poem. I want young women to scatter themselves wherever they want. My husband and I have had some less than nuanced conversations about weeds vs. flowers. I’m going to tell him I’m a dandelion and see what he says. Should be interesting!
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Oh, the Dandelion is such a great flower/weed. “First budding golden,” and then when it ages, those silver/grey seeds. I love the life cycle comparisons made. Your spring poetry offerings are magical. This is one of my favorites of those I’ve read.
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Love the phrase, “gathering spring in my hands” – and you have conjured up a memory for me, of wild spearmint that grew beside my aunt’s house in Maryland when I was about nine. These are moments too wonderful to forget – yes, let us write them and preserve our wildflowers.
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Your Day 21 poem has me thinking about how being a bleeding heart is a pejorative term in some circles and how we can think of it as a beautiful flower and a symbol of compassion instead.
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I always wonder about unconditional love. We have so many stories about love .
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Oh, I have a bleeding heart in my garage so the freeze doesn’t get it. It’s sitting there in the wagon, blooming pink! I love this:
Rose-pink bleeding hearts,
unconditional love,
perfect!
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I love how your month challenge is prompting you to learn new things. You are getting creative and I love how you shared the legend behind the flower through poetry.
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Joanne, I’ve just read your last three poems on the tulip, lilac, and bleeding-heart. Ssuch lovely legends involved – a fickle princess and a prince’s doomed heart, Pan and the sweet perfume coming through panpipes – oh, you should send “Awakening” to Kim Johnson for her “Awakenings” poetry event next month! The tulip poem-history was so interesting and I couldn’t help noting the parallel between its long journey and yours from SC to NJ – you both survived, thankfully!
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Thanks Fran! When I passed through North Carolina I shouted hello to you! Did you hear me!
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I thought that was you! (ha!)
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I dont think I could take on this challenge with a theme, but I do love yours, and your idea of gifting yourself 31 spring poems for your April birthday! I also love the ‘sisters’ idea in this poem, and how you educate us as to the differences between the two plants, and how they each support the environment in their different ways at different seasons. I say you educate us, but through your lovely metaphor of plant sisters.
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Joanne, your poetry is always so powerful. I love how you progress to your final lines. Today’s was sensational.
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You had me at hummingbird – how I love these comforting lines of protection and solace:
Striking spectacles in dappled shade:
Small, delicate Azalea blossoms
Sweet home for hummingbirds
these are such lovely images in the lines of your poem today!
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I just learned that those two flowers are related. They sit next to each other in my front yard. Now when I look at them they seem like cousins visiting each other.
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The bird of paradise is beautiful and your poem describes it well.
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Joanne, you are on a roll with these beautiful spring poems. I didn’t know how you would do it, but you are finding a never-ending supply of source material. These bird of paradise are magical, and I looked at them through new eyes with your poem today from “Flashing purple-blue tails” to the “sturdy stem” and “fertile soil” — it is really lovely.
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Joann, I read through 3 of your poems so far. They are a tribute to spring and the photos are gorgeous. The peony plant is my favorite. I brought my love of this plant to VA but needed help with the gardener to dig deep into the clay soil. I find the soil so difficult to grow magnificent flowers so the gardener adds very good soil and mulch to my beds.
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Joanne,
I’m gonna comment on several poems in this comment because I’m behind! 😬 I love the image of a peony w/ a fist punching winter and forcing its way to spring. Bird of paradise might be in my top three favorite flowers. I love thinking about them soaring. They are majestic and graceful. Do they ever wilt? I don’t think I’ve seen one dead or dying. Your mention of dogwoods brings back memories of my father taking us to Arkansas each spring to see the dogwoods blooming. I love tulips. They grow well in Idaho. I didn’t know all the history you shared. I brought tulip bulbs from the Netherlands a couple years ago and planted them. In. losing, I’m loving all the poems and plan to reread them when this challenges ends. I want a sense of their totality.
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I love the way your poem describes the peony as it goes from bud to bloom. The photos of the peony before and after it blooms compliment it perfectly. Peonies are one of my favorite flowers, but I’ve never had luck growing them. Luckily my neighbor does, so I just enjoy hers.
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I love this idea of a poem about flowers for each day! Thanks for the look at spring through words!
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Beautiful photos! I love your words “pink white jolts through green. My peonies won’t bloom until Memorial Day (well that is usual and this Spring is anything but that)
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Joanne, once again I’m stuck by the ethereal beauty of your poetry – this time the delicate yet strong peonies, the striking bird-of-paradise, and the “springtime sisters” – it will soon be time to put the hummingbird feeders out! About hydrangeas – last year we had two planted in our flowerbed, and during the summer they succumbed to “brown rot,” I think. I cut them back to nothing almost, not sure I was doing the right things or that they could be saved. Yet…now there are new, fresh green leaves on each plant… I so hope they make it. Your poems are always full of hope and celebration. And the photos – fantastic!
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Love those peonies! Your photograph and words show your appreciation for this amazing flower. I have them in magenta and pink in front of my house every May. Looking forward to seeing them pop out. Your poem made me yearn for them to show themselves.
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Joanne, I hadn’t heard about the young flower within the older flower of the zinnia. But it makes sense, that’s how they look. Such a sweet image and beautifully told in your poem.
In the peony poem, I so love the words and images in this portion:
Yesterday, I read your bird of paradise poem to my husband while we were at a garden looking at a bird of paradise plant. I wrote about it in yesterday’s slice. 🙂
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Joanne,
What a gorgeous poem and picture of zinnias. Once again your poem provides new knowledge. And I love that last line: “where youth and old age dwell.” Such a lovely image of community in a flower and of the cycle of life.
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Aren’t they just fabulous. Your poem is wonderful too. I love the idea of them looking like a blend of youth and old age! Thanks for all the background information too.
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How beautiful that you put these in jelly jars for your mom as gifts all summer long. I think that would just be lovely to have fresh flowers every day. I love a legend. This part made me catch my breath:
Legend tells of an ever-changing-woman
who gave yellow zinnias to a Navajo child
to help him protect the corn fields.
Zinnias now grow along with the corn.
There is nothing quite like a legend to say, “hey, here’s a story. Listen up and then you’ll understand something.” This is lovely.
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Another gorgeous poem, Joanne. I didn’t know Navajo people used the petals to create dye colors. Fascinating.
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A hit parade of my favorites here, oh-so-worth walking these garden paths. I’ll be back. One visit is hardly enough! (The photos are stunning as well. And I particularly love that you laud the lowly dandelion: “You are not discouraged/ you provide your own sunlight.” I have been reading about that dandelion that has saved people from scurvy and more…)💐
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Thanks – Trish! You just gave me the name for the book I’d like to create – Walking the Garden Path. I think that’s perfect!
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It’s only fair. You have given us so much with these beautiful poems.
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Joanne,
I love your poem today, “Make Your Presence Known.” The daisy verse reminds me of clouds and the way we looked for shapes in them when I was a child. I can see your poem as an invitation to learned to write about how they make their presence known and/or how something else makes its presence known. So many possibilities in this lovely poem.
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I love your poem! It portrays a deep connection with the natural world and the beauty of the clouds sun, rain, the daisies etc. The lines about the sun was my favourite personification- peeking behind great columns of clouds, finding her voice at last and shining.
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Oh, that fire is really speaking! I love the starting and ending with “Watch me”, as we would have to watch a fire. Then the power of “I am the fire, the flame” “rising” “Fierce and free” I just feel like I’m hearing that tiger lily speaking so forcefully, that I don’t think I’ll look at them the same next time!
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Joanne,
Tiger lilies are one of my favorite flowers. They really do look like tongues of furry flames. Love the point of view in your poem. It’s a sashaying attitude earned by this gorgeous flower.
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What a great mask poem! The repeated “Watch me” works so well, and also “I am the flower/I am the flame.” I love the comparison of the lily to fire and flame. You’ve created such a beautiful bouquet of poems this month.
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Joanne, I have so enjoyed your flower poetry. I am a huge fan of the tiger lily because they do not fold. Your words “fierce and free” are the perfect combination to show the tiger lily’s spirit.
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Those last three lines speak volumes:
I am changed,
I am unafraid,
I walk on.
Oh, how many times I have been there in my life, walking on….changed…..and all for the better, especially through this Slicing experience and the journey we have been on together for the last 31 days. Thank you for your gift of poetry about flowers. I hope you are thinking of publishing it in a volume.
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Oh, Joanne, another sweet gift of springtime flowers this Easter. I love the lily of the valley flowers. This is a beautiful rif on Psalm 23. So very beautiful! I have to tell a story of lily of the valley…I remember when I went with my maid of honor to the Los Angeles flower market in 1983 and bought flowers for my wedding. We bought huge bunches of daisies and statice and baby’s breath and gladiolus and even some white roses for probably $75, and a tiny bunch of lily of the valley for $20 for my hair. It was an exorbitant amount for such a little thing, but it was worth it to me. Then after our wedding we went back to Michigan, where we were going to live. And there under the faucet in the yard the lily of the valley grew, like wild and overflowing into the grass of the yard. I so loved those flowers, and right there in my own yard. (They hadn’t grown in California where I grew up.)
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Oh Denise, your story gave me chills. That is so sweet. My mom had perfume called lily-of-the-valley and every time I smell those flowers, I think of her and the special moment we had together. BTW – in order to calm my anxiety, I recite the 23 Psalm every night until I drift to sleep. It is so comforting and healing for me. I’m glad you thought it worked in this poem.
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Beautiful! What a great bedtime routine, Joanne.
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Joanne, I want you to know how much I’ve enjoyed your gallery of flowers and verse. We are likeminded in that we seek to uplift with our writing. When I started my blog, that was my intent. There’s already enough negativity and destructiveness out there – I want to encourage and edify where I can, and this is exactly what you do here. The connection to nature is deep – for it is a connection to the Creator. It is to sustain us and also to remind us. The lily-of-the-valley is my “birth month” flower and I love your depiction of it, not fearing the shadows of the valley. I love these ending words for the iris, too – “Courage, wisdom, and hope abide.” Yes. They do. I am glad I read these last few poems on Easter – they make the perfect close to the day, and to the Challenge. Thank you for being such a blessing, friend.
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Oh of course they are your birth flower! I’m so happy about that coincidence, or is it a God Wink? Thank you for your stories – they are something I look forward to!
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Joanne,
I wanted to end today w/ your poem. I knew it would be beautiful but didn’t expect it to be so appropriate both for Easter and my day, which was dark and rainy with a power outage and snow. Thank you for bri g poetry every day and for walking through this challenge with me. You are a gifted poet, and I k ow I’ll have the pleasure of your poetry in April, too. Peace.
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