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Sunflowers - letting rhymes fall where they will

Wednesday, 23 October 2013 8:38:21

Wednesday, 23 October 2013 8:38:21

A final touch on the punctuation pedal, a word removed and into the Archive with you!

I am dead-heading sunflowers,
Heads bowed by their weight
Like guilty kids, though my height and more;
But these are not as humans, for
They are grateful for the loss.

With each snip of secateurs,
The stem springs straight, relieved.
Great saucers, now old and black with seed
And rough to touch
Fall on the soft earth
Each one a giant pocket watch,

Whose petals mark the minutes and hours
In faded gold. Here too
Mexican sunflowers toss their heads:
Piercingly red against the blue -
From which, miraculously,
The clouds have fled.



Dead-heading sunflowers

Tuesday, 15 October 2013 12:28:47

Tuesday, 15 October 2013 12:28:47

Tidied up and broken into three verses:

I am dead-heading sunflowers
Heads bowed by their weight
Like guilty kids, though my height and more.
But these are not as humans, for
They are grateful for the loss.

With each snip of secateurs,
The stem springs straight, relieved.
The great saucers, now old and black with seed
And rough to touch
Fall on the soft earth
Each one a giant pocket watch

Whose petals mark the minutes and hours
In faded gold. Here too
Mexican sunflowers toss their heads
Piercingly red against the blue -
From which, miraculously,
The clouds have fled.

I've left the rhymes to fall where they will, resisted my tendency to be too neat.



Sunflowers

Thursday, 10 October 2013 11:54:16

Thursday, 10 October 2013 11:54:16

Further revisions. changes shown in italics - cuts in brackets

I am dead-heading sunflowers

[Their[ heads bowed by their weight

Like guilty [children] kids, [but] though my height and more.

[Though] But these are not as humans, for

They are grateful for the loss:

With each snip of secateurs

The stem springs [up and] straight, relieved.

The great saucers, now old and black with seed

And rough to touch

Fall on the soft earth [/ or with a clump into my bucket]

Each one a giant pocket watch

Whose petals mark the minutes and hours

In faded gold. Here too

[(Are)] Mexican sunflowers toss their heads

Piercingly red against the blue

From which, miraculously,  new line

The clouds have fled.



Sunflowers

Tuesday, 8 October 2013 16:39:19

Tuesday, 8 October 2013 16:39:19

Some reworkings and new thoughts...

 

I am dead-heading sunflowers

Their heads bowed by the weight

Like guilty children, but my height and more.

Though these are not as humans, for

They are grateful for the loss:

With each snip of secateurs

The stem springs up and straight.

relieved. The great saucers now old and black with seed

(with old seed?)

And rough to touch

Fall on the soft earth / or with a clump into my bucket

Each one a giant pocket watch

Whose petals mark (the) minutes and hours

In faded gold. Here too

(Are) Mexican sunflowers / toss their heads

Piercingly red against the blue

from which, miraculously, the clouds have fled.



Sun flowers

Friday, 4 October 2013 14:41:02

Friday, 4 October 2013 14:41:02


The first use of these notes forms a rough kind of poem text:

I am dead-heading sun-flowers
Heads bowed, like guilty children
But these are not as animals / humans
With each clip / snip of secateurs
The stem springs back relieved of weight
And the great saucers black with old seed
Fall on the soft earth or with a clump
Into my bucket
Each one a giant pocket watch
With / whose faded petals mark / marking minutes in faded gold



Getting down to some proper writing!

Tuesday, 1 October 2013 6:37:07

Tuesday, 1 October 2013 6:37:07

Based on notes and memories of dead-heading sunflowers.

satisfying clump into the bucket

clip off the heads

great heavy saucers black with old seed

snip   fallen giants

giant pocket watch

faded yellow marks the seconds / minutes

these are not like animals - they reward you when their heads are lopped

bees, big and fat, cling on

still finding food

out and about in September sun.



New term, new start

Tuesday, 3 September 2013 10:27:56

Tuesday, 3 September 2013 10:27:56

Creative juices not quite flowing yet?  Don't worry, it's the same here. Just to show I haven't been entirely idle, here's a parody I wrote for another purpose entirely but which you might enjoy.

Had I my aunt's embroidered clothes,

Enwrought with golden and silver thread,

The blue and the glitter and the dark cloths

Of night-clubs and disco-lights and the half-light,

I would wear the clothes on our street!

But I, being poor, have only my denims;

I have spread my denims under your feet;

Tread softly, because you tread on my jeans.



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