The Taking Of A Flower

Oh many were the days that I strode through the meadow,
And smelled the sweetest rose.
And many more were the days that I reached out to pluck it,
And yet, as I did so, froze.

For time and again, the thought crossed my mind,
“What if?”
“What if I should bleed?”
“What then would befall me?”
“Who then would console me?”
“Who’d tell me the things that I’d need?”

So day after day, I walked through that meadow,
Walked past that beautiful rose.
Walked past that picture of great natural wonder,
Walked past, because that’s what I chose.

Till one day,
At last,
I could take it no longer,
And said,
“I’m through!”

I went out to that flower,
It took me less than an hour,
And I plucked it without any queues.

And as I drew that blossom from its earthen bed,
I felt a prick in my thumb,
I looked down without command,
Saw blood on my hand,
And the sight of it turned me numb.

It wasn’t the pain of the prick that bothered me,
I barely noticed that.
It was the knowledge that this blossom,
This thing that I held,
Had been brought to where it couldn’t go back.

Never again would it sit in the meadow,
Never again would it grow.
Never again would I pass it and think,
“My, my,”
“That’s the sweetest rose.”


3 thoughts on “The Taking Of A Flower

  1. I like the poem, the imagery is great and it must have taken courage to publish this! Thank you for sharing it with me!

  2. You know what this reminds me of: A description I once heard regarding the Fall in Genesis; how before Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit that they were like children – innocent, oblivious and true to what the man in the sky said. But when someone suggested they eat the fruit, their transformation was like a coming-of-age process, they gained reason, morals, curiosity and self-consciousness (last one might not be such a good thing come to think of it!). That’s what this poem reminds me of. It’s a metaphor for innocence, or for adolescence – either way, both subjects have an expiration date among individuals, because at some point we do want to know what that “Fruit” tastes like. It’s the same with the flower in this story, once you pluck it there’s no turning back. And the blood-drop is the cost of passing through that invisible barrier that separates innocence from experience. (Have you read William Blake?)

    I’ve noticed in some of your other poetry that there is an attempt at a romantic approach, and in this one it’s not just the flower. You try to show some kind of rhyme scheme here that doesn’t feel fully formed. I can’t see a pattern except an A-B-A system.
    But maybe that’s a good thing. Modernist literature teaches us that certain parts of life can’t really be described truthfully with rhyme, and I actually liked how you got to the point without confusing me left and right.
    But I’m still going to point out the rhyming as something that could have gone better, because it doesn’t seem fully developed even though I noticed you worked really hard at it.

    Also, the subject itself is somewhat basic romanticism: associating innocence with a flower (a piece of great, mysterious Nature). But basic topics aren’t the worst thing to write about since, as I said, you get your point through quickly and that’s quite refreshing at times.

    But so, I liked this poem, the only thing is that the rhyme-scheme didn’t seem to have a fully formed pattern, and that the topic at first seemed somewhat simple.
    This is just my views, Nate, and as a fellow author I thought it best I be honest.

    Also: was there a plan to the poem’s form? Because the stanzas grow smaller until we get to the fourth stanza (“Enough – I’m through”) and then they expand again. I wondered if this was intentional, because mixing such a modernist characteristic with romantic topics is actually quite interesting!

    Keep writing!:)

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