A Christmas gift to my daughters, my four granddaughters, and my wife, who is a daughter too.
My daughter blossomed into a wild flower
Hummingbird, sparrow, honey beeNourishing herself in the wind.
My daughter flashed her new colors
Brighter than a flamboyant tree,
Its leaves relish golden red.
In a flash a rainstorm loses its tea
And my daughter alive and invasive,
Straight and lovely, finds a way to give it back.
| Copyright © 2022 by Michael H. Brownstein Michael H. Brownstein’s volumes of poetry, A Slipknot Into Somewhere Else and How Do We Create Love?, were published by Cholla Needles Press in 2018 & 2019, respectively. |
No need to apologize. I would have gladly given him the entire space. Thank you for placing me with such a talented writer.
ReplyDeleteWow, thank YOU, Michael. I would say the same about you; you've had far more recognition for your writing than I, and it is far more richly deserved. This poem, like many I have forgone commenting on recently, has solidified a theory that I have been trying for some time to pin down and put into words. It is this: good visual art, like a painting or sculpture, makes the eye move around smoothly, and evokes emotion effortlessly. But good written or spoken art makes the MIND move around, as it must create its own images on the fly, and it's not effortless; it takes work. It also takes work to decide on the emotions one gets from the piece. As ALL of your poems do, this one smoothly steers the mind all around the images created, while the emotions evoked are both effortless and profound. It is my pleasure, sir, to share the day with you. Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah!
ReplyDeleteThank you for your most kind words--and Happy New Years!
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