If you are a reader of my blog, you know that I love spending time with my grandchildren. A few weeks ago I took Leo to visit his great grandmother. We wandered around her backyard. Minga picked a camellia, a common winter flower here in the South. She handed the beautiful pink blossom to Leo. He held it out to me and pointed up, “Tree!” So, of course, I placed the flower into the tree. Off went Leo, satisfied and ready to romp across the yard.
With a line borrowed from Ellen Bass, I offer this small poem. Leave your own poem in the comments. Please encourage other writers with response to their poem-gifts.
The thing is
Margaret Simon, draft
to love life,
to hold a flower
in your hands,
and then give it
away.
Reflections on the Teche 
Oh, that is the thing, isn’t it? Lovely! Thanks so much for linking the Ellen Bass poem here. I forwarded it to my in-laws who just lost a dear friend.
Here’s my quick response to your photo, titled with a line lifted from Silverstein’s “The Giving Tree”:
“and the tree was happy”
‘though it cherished its acorns
Oak had always yearned
to hold a camellia blossom
I’ve decided to print this photo with my Sprocket and glue everyone’s poem in my notebook. I love this! The personification of oak is perfect.
Molly, I like the line you borrowed from The Giving Tree and that you started with it. I received a feeling of fun and joy from your poem. I like your POV. Thank you.
It is the thing…I love that oak years.
I love the connection with the giving tree, Molly. This makes me think about all the things we yearn to do but are never blessed to do so. Your word choice of cherished and yearned is perfect.
Margaret, your poem is precious and moved me. I have never seen a picture of a camellia before. The only winter flowers we have around her are inside our house. I love the pinkness and layers. From your post I have an image of your great grandmother, Leo, and you in her yard. I see a pink camellia shrub in bloom. Thank your for this peek into your life with your family and for the photo prompt of a beautiful camellia.
great grandmother
grandmother
grandson
generations
like the layers
of pink petals
within a
camellia
Gail Aldous
wonderful description of the layers…I saw them too.
Thank you Linda.
Gail, thank you for that sweet poem. It’s such a personal response. As well as using the image of the flower as metaphor.
Your welcome. I actually came up with two other stanzas, also, but they were more like brainstorming about the connection that I really wanted to write about. Then, when I looked just at my first stanza I thought of generations. Then, when I stared at the camellia again I said, yes layers is the connection I want. Thank you, Margaret.
The comparison of the pink petal layers and life’s generations is beautiful.
Thank you, Linda. I had two other stanzas of comparing the three of them, but those weren’t working.
Oops, I meant to say thank you, Leigh Anne. Sorry. I was looking right at your name and typed Linda, instead.
PS Margaret, thank you for sharing the link to Ellen Bass’s poem. What a powerful poem she wrote. I like your first two lines of your poem that you borrowed from Ellen and the effect it gives to your poem.
I like your poem, Margaret, and the poem you borrowed from as well. It inspired this:
Grafted to my stem,
your pink fingers
twined
so sweetly that
we formed
a new growth.
More mother
than daughter,
more you
than me,
more scented of
your flower-breath
than of my own
bitter vines.
I am me plus you,
a new color,
a new species,
yet common,
on this green
earth.
One cornflower
in a field of flowers.
I hope you don’t mind my putting your photo (with your caption) and my poem on my site. I’ll link to your post as well. Cheers.
Wonderful description of the more of joining two things together. Just lovely.
Thanks, Linda. I love Margaret’s thought-provoking posts. I put this poem on my site, edited a bit.
The photo is meant to be shared. I love how you compared the growth of mother to daughter to the growth of flowers in a field. Lovely.
Thanks, Margaret. Thanks for your wonderful embrace of the #writingcommunity.
Beautiful metaphor. I love how the flower softens in your poem.
I also see a bit of Margaret and Leo’s connection in this too. His hand in hers, her eye for beauty in him, together creating their own field of flowers.
Your comment is its own poem. 🙂
Brenda, your poem is beautiful! I love all the comparisons. These images especially spoke to me “grafted to my stem/pink fingers” and “more scented of/your flower-breath/than of my own/bitter vines. When I read your poem aloud I liked hearing the repetition, consonance, and assonance. Great job!
Thank you, Gail. How nice of you to comment with such detail!
[…] Thanks to Margaret Simon for inspiring another poem. Her photo made me remember holding my daughter, a new being who had been part of me, yet was […]
I enjoy the flower…the idea that love is something to give and the several responses. I needed this reminder this morning. I saw a tutu.
Sometimes
After class
I removemy tutu
and hang it
on a branch
in the garden
So the tree
can be
a ballerina
for a time
Hanging up your tutu is a delightful image. I look forward to the day that Stella will play in this way. I see a tutu in our future.
Yes! A ballerina, indeed!
Trees do dance after all. 🙂
Oh, Linda, that is beautiful! I love the image and mood that your poem gives. I can clearly see your tutu on a branch in a garden. The tutu has layers, too.
What a lovely moment you have captured not only in the photo but also in the poem. Thank you for the link to the Ellen Bass poem. That first line can take us many places. A great prompt!
a camellia blossom
in the arms of a mighty oak
displaced beauty
Leigh Anne, I like your word choice of “arms” and how that personifies the oak and displaced beauty works perfectly.