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My Grandfather`s Crocus REVISED

by seanfarragher 

Posted: 02 April 2006
Word Count: 229
Summary: (A short poem by Request)--- Epigram taken from an older poem.
Related Works: "The End of the World is Near" • Adoration -- for Kate (slight edit) • Books from the Bible • Steppes Between Mountains: A "love" Poem • 

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My Grandfather's Crocus
for Katelyn

"Spring is the rebellion of the crocus wrestling with the ground;
the forsythia and the child sweat and the earth bangs a drum"*


Terra unlocks life with power dragged
from the roots of floral consent; we pass
any street, none ours, and we fail to notice
that powerful bloom ascend to propagate itself
with slight glare on its brief green leaves.

"A mighty Fortress is our God"**

We sing that Spring when renewal crumbles rocks,
frozen dirt and the most fragile of stems bend
the ground, wrestling, never standing back, forced
towards salvation; -- one isolated purple flower
lives just weeks, before it falls
down to the garden at the abyss,
vital again as our sun stores
collected light in tubers; so much armor --
calm when we touch that bulb, carefully splitting it,
so it will grow stronger, more resolute, even more
ferocious than mankind. Imagine if we had that power,
resisting frost, not dividing, and on those still nights,
we could face silence as we fear eternity.

Do not whisper the word death in our presence.




END

4/03/06
*http://seanfarragher.com
to find Wild Child Spring go to Poetry Sampler

**Text: Martin Luther Trans. by Frederick H. Hedge
Music -- http://www.hymnsite.com/lyrics/umh110.sht
It is the music rather than the text that I felt
when adding that quotation as a transition between
sections of the poem.






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Comments by other Members



paul53 [for I am he] at 07:37 on 03 April 2006  Report this post
Hi Sean,
I've always been greatly impressed by how water wears away rock; wind sandblasts mountains to dunes of sand; or how a growing plant can take advantage of the small crack, then flexing its circumference can split concrete or push aside tarmac - like the Tai Chi of the natural world.
You have explored this well here [and a lot more besides]. My only suggestion would be to put the line break in
lives just weeks, before it falls down
to the garden at the abyss,
after "fall" not "down", but I may well have missed something subtle.

p.s.
I want to explore the south of England near Devonshire where I know I have a few thousand cousins.
If you ever do, give me a shout. I'm next door in Dorset, and my wife does a terrific curry.
Paul


Nell at 07:50 on 03 April 2006  Report this post
Hi Sean,

An amazingly forceful and violent image of spring - extraodinary to see the actions of a crocus bulb in that way - the poet's vision put across with clarity and power. This is the most accessible of your poems I've read so far - less is certainly more in this case. You've concentrated on that one idea of burgeoning life, of resolute renewal, and it's almost as if the grandfather is renewed each spring in all his vigour in the phallic crocus.

You have both 'ascent' and 'ascend' in stanza 1, which tends to weaken the word (IMO), and I wasn't sure about ..."It is a mighty fortress of our God" ... which is making a statement that I stopped reading to question. See what you think.

Sean, this is a great poem, my favourite of yours so far, and I love the title too.

Nell.

joanie at 13:28 on 03 April 2006  Report this post
Hi Sean. This is wonderful; I just love the opening words. This reminds me of 'Terra', which you liked!

I actually googled "It is a mighty fortress of our God" because it seemed to be the line of a hymn, but I couldn't find anything.
so
calm when we touch that bulb, carefully splitting it,
so it will grow stronger, more resolute, even more
ferocious than mankind.
really spoke to me. I can see Grandfather splitting the bulb. I love the title, by the way.

This expresses the might and power in such things. Yes .... just imagine!!!

I have to agree that short is much more accessible for me. Perhaps I'm just lazy!

joanie





Xenny at 15:26 on 03 April 2006  Report this post
Wow, Sean, I like this one so much. It's as though the energy/intent in your writing becomes more powerful by being more focused. (this really isn't a subtle criticism of your longer writings - it's just what comes accross when reading this one).

so it will grow stronger, more resolute, even more
ferocious than mankind. Imagine if we had that power,
resisting frost, not dividing, and on those still nights,
we could face silence as we fear eternity.


I loved these four lines. I've read them over and over.

Do not whisper the word death in our presence.


So true. I wondered if I found this line necessary or not, but I think I do. Without it I might have avoided taking the line of thought/feeling far enough.

Cradlehag at 14:11 on 10 April 2006  Report this post
Hi Sean,

I loved the energy of this, the violence and hope embodied as one; I have a particular fondness for these flowers too. It reminds me a bit of Heaney, not sure explicitly why, it just chimes with the same feeling some of his works capture for me.

Ali

seanfarragher at 15:15 on 10 April 2006  Report this post
Thanks Ali, having any poem compared to Heaney is as good as it gets. I am partial to him and to the late Ted Hughes. I only wish Ted Hughes had not burned domr of Sylvia's papers. (I don't mean to be random).... I don't believe poets after their death have any rights to privacy --- Thank you again.

Account Closed at 11:05 on 26 April 2006  Report this post
Terrific imagery and great to see a different take of the vernal season. I could feel the buds thrusting through the ground, and I loved the dismissal of death at the poem's close - and almost acidic hissing.

Top stuff.

JB


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