the earth baby-blued by hydrangeas,
the perseids of august
life withers in season, she whispers
her october world in rigor mortis
Author notes
for my mom
A contest entry
- 21 by Connor Blackbird.
700 points, ended October 22, 12 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
critical comments welcomed and encouraged
Comments
1 - 12 of 12
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how did i miss this?
i have to go see what could have possibly beat this..
m
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hmmm... looks like gold to me.
but what do i know.. ?
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This is really wonderfully written. Seriously, I love it. Good job.
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Thank you
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(A quick note - if "baby-blued" counts as 2 words, this is 22 altogether. I assume you were counting it as one, which I have to disagree with.)
I'm curious about this one. Curious because the statement - "life withers in season" is staggeringly poignant, and is preceded by two images that suggest quite the reverse of withering. Curious because given that, and given the poem as a whole, I'm not sure I see the relevance of the first two lines, other than to recall seasonal imagery. The title lends them some relevance, by suggesting reminiscence, but even given that inclusion there seems (at least to my eye, and I would love to be corrected) to be a disjoint between the intentions of the first two lines and those of the last two.
That being said, your last twelve words are better than most of the 21-sets in this contest, and go a long way. The last two lines are virtually flawless, and they seem to be the more important ones, anyway.
I'm not sure if this is an excellent poem, or a poem with excellent elements, but either way, it contains the beauty and succinctness with which I associate your name, and which I was looking for in this contest to begin with. Thank you, so much, for entering - it was well worth the wait.
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if you read the title as the first line, the next two lines make more sense, I think. Thanks for your comment.
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Oh - I hadn't thought of it that way. Wow. Oops. :\
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As an addendum to that, I should mention that ultimately, given the subject matter, not a bit of what I said matters - this contest is massively unimportant next to the real world...
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one of your very best...
al
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thank you, al
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This is a lovely penning, Poet. So tender, poignant, pure...any mother would be so pleased and proud at having inspired this, at having raised such a sensitive soul. Good luck in Connor's contest. 
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You write such tight, short pieces. But this one is a gut-wrenching bit of poetry. I want to remind you, though, that every Winter brings the promise of Spring. As long as the roots remain, the grass returns, the flowers bloom and the trees provide cool shade and shelter from the storms.
for you and for your mom.
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