Friday, August 04, 2017

Poetry Friday: Flowers and Poems

Sonnets from the Portuguese 44
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
 
Beloved, thou hast brought me many flowers 
Plucked in the garden, all the summer through 
And winter, and it seemed as if they grew 
In this close room, nor missed the sun and showers, 
So, in the like name of that love of ours, 
Take back these thoughts which here unfolded too, 
And which on warm and cold days I withdrew 
From my heart’s ground. Indeed, those beds and bowers 
Be overgrown with bitter weeds and rue, 
And wait thy weeding; yet here’s eglantine, 
Here’s ivy!— take them, as I used to do 
Thy flowers, and keep them where they shall not pine. 
Instruct thine eyes to keep their colours true, 
And tell thy soul, their roots are left in mine.





February: Thinking of Flowers
by Jane Kenyon


Now wind torments the field,
turning the white surface back
on itself, back and back on itself,
like an animal licking a wound.

Nothing but white--the air, the light;
only one brown milkweed pod
bobbing in the gully, smallest
brown boat on the immense tide.

A single green sprouting thing
would restore me. . . .

Then think of the tall delphinium,
swaying, or the bee when it comes
to the tongue of the burgundy lily. 
 
 
Wishing you beautiful flowers today and plenty of memories of them in February!   Here's today's roundup.

8 comments:

Linda B said...

Remember that many begin to write and share of "A single green sprouting thing" in late winter? Now you've given us two poems to keep for those cold and darker days (at least here in Colorado, not so much in Haiti). Thanks, Ruth!

Carol Varsalona said...

Flowers brighten any day, Ruth. Thanks for sharing the poems.

Mitchell Linda said...

Ah, dear Ruth.....bringing us beauty of flowers and thoughts of them woven into word bouquets. Such an exquisite offering. I cannot help but to sigh and go back to the top to read again.

Mary Lee said...

This reminds me of Tabatha's post about the early meaning of anthology! Thanks for the blooms, and the reminder to tuck their memory away for the cold months...assuming we have any...

Brenda Harsham said...

A poem is a book full of pressed flowers between layers of waxed paper. They need to be taken out and loved, not left there on the shelf. I feel happy that you brought these two poems together. They each make the other more wonderful.

Jane @ www.raincitylibrarian.ca said...

What a beautiful poetic bouquet, and much longer lasting than any vase of flowers. :)

Donna Smith said...

I loved "And tell thy soul, their roots are left in mine."
Sweet poems! Thanks for sharing them today.

michelle kogan said...

Lovely gifts of flowers and words from the gods, as said earlier the last line has lovingly deep roots, thanks Ruth!