The flowers of the field
are but lonely stems
That wear pretty hats
to keep the sun from
reaching their slender souls.
When I took this picture and especially after downloading it the above poem came into my mind. I wrote that poem years ago in college. It was chosen by one of my English professors to include in the college literary magazine. I was honored and humbled to be included.
Fast forward a year and my roommate at the time had to take an English Lit class. It turned out her professor was using the previous year's literary magazine to teach poetry. She (Mary) came back from class one day and told me I wouldn't believe what the professor had said about my poem. It turns out he thought the poem was unique. Ok, he's getting points right off the bat! But wait, he says the flowers aren't the thing on top - what? He continued to say the poet was putting up a good front and could be too fragile inside. Points all lost - out the window they went. I was furious.
I had sat on my parent's front porch, my legs stretched out and feet firmly planted on the porch banister - pen and paper in hand. Looking out at the wide open hillside in front of me and my Mom's flowers in the yard, I penned a little short poem about the makeup of flowers. I looked at the stem, the flower and what it looked like, threw in a few poetic type words, voila - a poem.
What did I get for this - a room full of students,who either knew me or could easily find me, thinking I was some kind of fragile being holding it all inside! I would of confronted him; but there weren't that many English professors on campus at what was primarily an engineering school. I knew I just might need a class he taught. So, I let it go; but it still haunts me all these years later.
Everything we write is subject to interpretation. Those interpretations are as numbered and varied as the people who read what we write. But....he was so far off the mark!!
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