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Pulling a Poem Out


It is here among these words
that act as brick and mortar
to construct picture, puzzle,
fashion or fruit.  The root
is caught in the trap of thought
and lays subdued, a seed
in soil.
 
Let it rise with the early dawn
and drink the morning dew.
Moisture makes it malleable.
 
Leave it to bask in the afternoon
to tan to an even copper color
drawn from the sun.  The heat
makes lasting.
 
  Sit it quiet in night shades,
slipping waves of moonlight
like tides wiggling in the sand,
until the shadow produces bloom.
 
Once the bloom is in place
only a vase is necessary.

Wow. This poem is so good. So many beautifully described images. 

There were two things that made me stop, but it could just be me.

I felt like the first stanza had the beginning of two different poems. As I read more of the poem, I wanted this poem to *just* be about plants. I liked the other images in the first stanza, but I didn't feel like it fit. For example, when I read "caught in the trap of though and lays subdued" I thought of an animal. The animal isn't really mentioned or referenced again.

In the fourth poem, I wanted to linger on the words "Sit in quiet" by putting "in night shades," on the next line. I wanted the line to be "quieter" to reflect the setting. That's just me though. May not be your style.

Dennis

I too feel two poems are here.  I read the title "Pulling out a Poem" like a rabbit out of a hat or a poem caught in the weeds.  Then the first line "Here it is . . . " like the persona found it and rescued it from abandonment.

Then the poem shifts to "hoe can I mature a poem."  So when I got to stanza two, I had my flower-trimming shears out and sharpened.  snip.  snip.

I wonder if you can make this two or change the title and tighten the approach.  Powerful images going on here. 

"Well done," he says in snarky jealousy.

Todd

National Poetry Month, Day 1 – what more appropriate than a poem about poetry? 

…caught in the trap of thought … yes, please.

Nonetheless, I am a woman on fire to give poem haircuts today.  Like Todd, I wish to snip a bit.  You have all the pieces I want, but I want a leaner poem.  I want to see those cheekbones.

You know how you have a poem inside you and you can't yet get it to form.  You can't pull it out and then, surprise!  it pops out.  What delight when that happens.  All you had to do was stay open and alert.  Then boom!  there it is.  (first poem I see.)

The second poem I see could be letting words come, where you are the scribe and the muse is the poet.  It took me to Let Evening Come by Kenyon.  I love how that poem flows.  She is the one who just doesn't work at it.  She lets it happen.  Every stanza of that poem is lovely and there is a letting it happen.  

You will make it happen.  : )

Gosh guys and gals,  you shook my hand, patted me on the back, and kicked my tail all in the same breath.  I actually thought the title was the weakest part of the whole thing.  But, here goes:

Pulling a Poem Out

The root is caught 
in the trap of thought.

Let is rise with the dawn,
drink the morning dew.

The afternoon sun can give 
it a coppertone tan.

Rock it in quiet shades
of night on waves of moonlight.

A ribbon on the vase
will enhance the bloom.

Yes, I like it.

DARN, Dennis.  I typed a really nice critique and when I clicked send the computer nerds ate it! 
So here is a rewrite to your rewrite.  Good poem.  Brief.  Lost the beautiful images of the original version.  That's a shame.  Maybe those unused items will spark their own, separate poem.  "Never throw away any unused parts."  so said my Benton High English teacher.  I like your rewrite.  Dewell