13·May·2006 · "buying blooms on greenhouse road" · KittenishJane

[The Poets]

buying blooms on greenhouse road

we lean into the curves—
our bottoms and pots bouncing
with the dips in the road—
aware that home soil is longing.

before any storm
or wilting,
hands open rows of deep,
round space.
i don't care for trowels.
(stems sprout from beneath my nails.)

then lover finds me kneeling,
dirt pressed between my palms,
a prayer to sun and rain.

i can almost breathe the planted roots,
nose so close to the ground now,

and the absence of his skin
on mine, comes only after
he sighs.

a lowered shirt clings to my back,
but there are no clouds, only his last
drop on a petal.



note from the poet:
There are a couple of lines, and line breaks that I'm concerned about.
I appreciate all comments.

 

[wildsweetone]

buying blooms on greenhouse road

we lean into the curves—
our bottoms and pots bouncing
with the dips in the road—
aware that home soil is longing.

before any storm
or wilting,
hands open rows of deep,
round space.
i don't care for trowels.
(stems sprout from beneath my nails.)

then lover finds me kneeling,
dirt pressed between my palms,
a prayer to sun and rain.

i can almost breathe the planted roots,
nose so close to the ground now,

and the absence of his skin
on mine, comes only after
he sighs.

a lowered shirt clings to my back,
but there are no clouds, only his last
drop on a petal.



note from the poet:
There are a couple of lines, and line breaks that I'm concerned about.
I appreciate all comments.

hello and welcome to the poetry forum.

i've enjoyed reading the poetry you have submitted to Literotica. you remind me of another poet's poetry, just an intuitive inkling at the back of my mind.

suffice it to say i find this poem difficult to critique as it appears pretty much perfect to my eyes (i'm still learning).

but you want critique so here's my thoughts...

i understand the title and how it can relate to the poem, but there's no reference to buying the blooms within the poem. for some reason i expected the purchase to be the focus of the poem.

in the first stanza, why is the word 'pots' included? i am aware that i have an image of a wagon (for some odd reason the pots bouncing conjure horse and cart), is that intentional or have i misunderstood the writing?

i love the images i have. i love the near-rhyme you use. i have yet to find a line break that i don't like, your word ends seem to all make sense and have impact.

'then lover finds me kneeling,' - perhaps change 'then' to 'my'
'dirt pressed between my palms' - i think i'd take out 'my'

'(stems sprout from beneath my nails.)' - aesthetically and perhaps for added impact, how about a line break after 'sprout'?

an interesting poem and well worth my time reading and sifting each word. thank you so much for sharing. i've learnt from your work.

 

[Tzara]

Hi, KJ.

I quite like this. Here are some comments. By all means feel free to ignore any or all of them. I often don't have much of a clue about things.

buying blooms on greenhouse road

I also find the title a bit misleading. It seems that something like "after buying blooms on greenhouse road" might make more sense, as the narrative of the poem begins with the narrator returning home to plant the new flowers.
​

we lean into the curves—
our bottoms and pots bouncing
with the dips in the road—
aware that home soil is longing.

For me, the lack of capitalization is a little irritating. Normally this wouldn't bother me, but I think because the poem is punctuated normally except for capitals seems to draw more attention to it and makes it look affected.

I assume "we" refers to the combination of the flowers and the narrator. If it is meant to mean the narrator and "lover," this isn't at all clear. My supposition is that he shows up later, when the planting is taking place.

Consequently, this doesn't mesh well with the rest of the poem, where the pronouns are all first person singular (I, my, me) or third person singular (his, he). It introduces a theme or image that isn't carried through.

Also—would the flowers be "aware that home soil is longing"?
​

before any storm
or wilting,
hands open rows of deep,
round space.
i don't care for trowels.
(stems sprout from beneath my nails.)

I particularly like this strophe, though the last line may be a touch too much.
​

then lover finds me kneeling,
dirt pressed between my palms,
a prayer to sun and rain.

Maybe "in prayer to sun and rain"?
​

i can almost breathe the planted roots,
nose so close to the ground now,

and the absence of his skin
on mine, comes only after
he sighs.

"and" seems superfluous.
​

a lowered shirt clings to my back,
but there are no clouds, only his last
drop on a petal.

This closes well, if a touch obscurely. Seems a bit warmish out.
​

All in all, a fine effort. Thanks for being confident enough to put something up for critique. There seems to have been almost an epidemic of cold feet recently.

 

[WickedEve]

using tzara's suggestions:

KittenishJane offers this edit and would like to know if it works before she resubmits the poem.

after buying blooms on greenhouse road

I lean into the curves—
bottom and pots bouncing
with the dips in the road—
aware that home soil is longing.

Before any storm
or wilting,
hands open rows of deep,
round space.
I don't care for trowels.

Then lover finds me kneeling,
dirt pressed between my palms
in prayer to sun and rain.

I can almost breathe the planted roots,
nose so close to the ground now.

The absence of his skin
on mine, comes only after
he sighs.

A lowered shirt clings to my back,
but there are no clouds.

 

[annaswirls]

KittenishJane,

I have been enjoying your poetry and am glad you have found your way over to the forum.

I am not good with critique, it makes me uncomfortable not being able to back up my opinions. But. Love you Tzara, but the first version is much better in my eyes. The things you fixed and cut were the things that made the poem unique, perhaps a bit eccentric. The title, does it have to be literal? I think the original title suits the poem better.

not everything in this poem makes sense as you look at it from word to word, but that is the magic in it.

I like how you did not use capitalization. It keeps the poem informal. In the dirt.

You took out (stems sprout) and that was such a cool line. It was a line that made me want to get to know this woman who has these thoughts pop into her head while gardening, like the poet cannot be put to rest even in every day tasks.

Sorry I am no help at all, just adding to the confusion.

I have a few little things down below in blue. I put things that I thought could be cut in grey.

You are brave for putting a poem up here, thank you.

~anna

buying blooms on greenhouse road

we lean into the curves—
our bottoms and pots bouncing
with the dips in the road—
aware that home soil is longing.

before any storm or wilting,
hands open rows of deep,
round space.
i don't care for trowels.
(stems sprout from beneath my nails.)

dirt pressed between my palms,
then lover finds me kneeling
in prayer to sun and rain.

i can almost breathe the planted roots,
nose so close to the ground now, (you might consider joining these two lines with the strophe above or below. keeping them separate gives them a powerful position, and I do not see the lines as that critical. I might have missed something)

and the absence of his skin
on mine, comes only after
he sighs. (? not crazy about the sigh. cant get it)

a lowered shirt clings to my back,
but there are no clouds, only his last
drop on a petal.

 

[KittenishJane]

KittenishJane,

I have been enjoying your poetry and am glad you have found your way over to the forum.

I am not good with critique, it makes me uncomfortable not being able to back up my opinions. But. Love you Tzara, but the first version is much better in my eyes. The things you fixed and cut were the things that made the poem unique, perhaps a bit eccentric. The title, does it have to be literal? I think the original title suits the poem better.

not everything in this poem makes sense as you look at it from word to word, but that is the magic in it.

I like how you did not use capitalization. It keeps the poem informal. In the dirt.

You took out (stems sprout) and that was such a cool line. It was a line that made me want to get to know this woman who has these thoughts pop into her head while gardening, like the poet cannot be put to rest even in every day tasks.

Sorry I am no help at all, just adding to the confusion.

I have a few little things down below in blue. I put things that I thought could be cut in grey.

You are brave for putting a poem up here, thank you.

~anna

buying blooms on greenhouse road

we lean into the curves—
our bottoms and pots bouncing
with the dips in the road—
aware that home soil is longing.

before any storm or wilting,
hands open rows of deep,
round space.
i don't care for trowels.
(stems sprout from beneath my nails.)

dirt pressed between my palms,
then lover finds me kneeling
in prayer to sun and rain.

i can almost breathe the planted roots,
nose so close to the ground now, (you might consider joining these two lines with the strophe above or below. keeping them separate gives them a powerful position, and I do not see the lines as that critical. I might have missed something)

and the absence of his skin
on mine, comes only after
he sighs. (? not crazy about the sigh. cant get it)

a lowered shirt clings to my back,
but there are no clouds, only his last
drop on a petal.

Thanks to everyone for the suggestions.
After many edits this morning, I have a version that I like, but still finding the 3rd strophe to be a bit funky.

buying blooms on greenhouse road

we lean into the curves—
our bottoms and pots bouncing
with the dips in the road—
aware that home soil is longing.

before any storm or wilting,
hands open rows of deep,
round space.
i don't care for trowels.
(stems sprout from beneath my nails.)

palms pressing dirt,
i can almost breathe the planted roots.
nose close to the ground
is where he finds me.

then comes the rain,
no clouds,
and afterwards,
absence of his skin on mine.

a lowered shirt clings
to my back, as his last drops fall
from the blooms.

 

[cherries_on_snow]

buying blooms on greenhouse road

we lean into the curves—
our bottoms and pots bouncing
with the dips in the road—
aware that home soil is longing.

before any storm
or wilting,
hands open rows of deep,
round space.
i don't care for trowels. I'd get rid of this period, and then
(stems sprout from beneath my nails.) move this period outside the parnethesis

then lover finds me kneeling, Here I have to make a transition between we and lover. I can't decide if it is part of we that is now outside the focus and reemerging as 3rd person or if we included another person now gone from the scene.
dirt pressed between my palms,
a prayer to sun and rain. beautiful

i can almost breathe the planted roots,
nose so close to the ground now,

and the absence of his skin
on mine, comes only after
he sighs.

a lowered shirt clings to my back,
but there are no clouds, only his last
drop on a petal. I stumble a little over lowered but I also like that it implies he cares for her enough to lower her shirt to caress, perhaps, (unless she has lowered it to keep from soiling it).



note from the poet:
There are a couple of lines, and line breaks that I'm concerned about.
I appreciate all comments.

I like many of these images, especially the stems sprout from beneath my nails
and other sense imagery of gardening. I found that more sexy than the lover for some reason. Perhaps it is because of the sadness with the implied later wilting of the relationship? Thank you for the poem. It was engaging, sweet and sad.

 

[echoes_s]

I will try this

buying blooms on greenhouse road

we lean into the curves— we lean into curves
our bottoms and pots bouncing
with the dips in the road—with every rut in the road-
aware that home soil is longing.

before any storm
or wilting,
hands open rows of deep,
round space.rounded space
i don't care for trowels.
(stems sprout from beneath my nails.)

then lover finds me kneeling, you see me kneeling
dirt pressed between my palms,
a prayer to sun and rain.

i can almost breathe the planted roots,I can almost breathe tendered roots
nose so close to the ground now,

and the absence of his skin and the absence of your skin
on mine, comes only after
he sighs.you sigh.

a lowered shirt clings to my back,
but there are no clouds, only his last but there are no clouds, only your last
drop on a petal.