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Posted on 01/09/2005 4:58:38 AM PST by Soaring Feather
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Dear LunaRed
This is not a poem about Violets, but taken from a story printed in my file. I am sorry that I do not know the Author`s name.
A woman wanted to visit to her native Texas. She had not been back there in awhile. her eldest brother was seriously ill. He had suffered from being in WWI when he was very young, he had been gassed.
He was still able to work farming and raising a family, but he suffered from respiratory problems for the rest of his life.
As she approached the nursing home, she picked some "wild violets" and formed a tiny bouquet. Now age eighty two, he was lying in bed, his eyesight dim, unable to see much beyond light and shadow, his entire being lit up as soon he heard his sister`s voice.
"Baby," he said with warmth. That was the nicname he always used for his sister.
She placed the violets under his nose and wrapped his fingers around their stems.
Beyond failing eyes, he instantly noticed the violet`s fragrance.
Silently he inhaled the aroma of the blooms slowly and deeply and his face was total happiness and peace.
It was as though this bouquet was a key that unlocked hundrends of memories.
He closed his eyes, he crushed the violets to his nose and breathed in deeply again, savoring the fragrance. "Oh Baby," he said with his eyes closed,
"it is a beautiful world."
Flowers bring us so much. We all have a special flower or more, we must!
again;
More than Anything,
I must have Flowers,
Always, Always.
--Claude Monet
`to feed our senses`
` for our memory ` mm*
oh Yum, now you have made hungry!
I love fiddles head ferns the way you mention too. How fortunate for you, to be growing them right in your yard!
Time to fly ~ :)
| You Know The Drill Click the pics 
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Coffee & Donuts
Good morning Sam!
Well dang, today's poem is sad.
Poor dog gets befriended,then
after digging where he ought
he get the boot!
Tugs at the heart strings to be sure.
I know how much you love dogs!
Thanks Sam for everything.
VIOLETS....
Of violets with dainty purple hue;
A field adorned in spring with you.
I snuggle in the mist of fragrance sweet,
with clover soft my pillow, chance to meet.
LunaRed
Make that ....after digging where he ought not
Lovely PSALM this morning. Thank You.
bentfeather
Good morning Bentfeather; Everyone,
Sunday is beautiful, I love Sunday most of all.
My cousin wrote to me the other day speaking about her favorite day being Saturday! I stopped to think about that. I have always thought of Saturday as a very busy day, either going to a job or running errands or the work required at home. I wonder if she plays on Saturdays! I was able to play yesterday ~ `Saturday`
Sunday still feels different. Quiet, peaceful.
Bentfeather, your writings draw a person right into your picture. You are so creative with your feelings. The floral card is so dainty in its design, just beautiful.
It is early yet here, there is a man with a black lab at the park. The dog is running circles around him, kicking up snow. Dogs are always happy to go.
Why is it that once we have made a real love connection with a dog, or any pet companion, that we only need read or see a picture of, or see someone else enjoying their special bond with theirs, communicating together, that it triggers such a flood of memories inside of us of our own experience?
It always does, the same way the flowers or the tending of them does.
Nearly everybody has a story inside.
One person can mention or write about one topic and it sparks something inside another person whose heart only wants to share.
Writers and poets take their pens and begin to write because the river is moving through their soul, there is current. Others communicate it verbally and some sit and simply feel it all inside.
This is only my observation and experience.
Where is the line between poetry and art? Is there one? I know everything has a name, a catagory. LOVE has so many branches doesn`t it.
I see several things happening here this morning. I woke up thinking of Violets. I so wanted to find a poem for you LunaRed about them. I made such a mess of a haiku I wrote yesterday with the count, that I just went blank trying to write another. Nobody said anything to me about this, it just laid there like an egg. I only discovered it myself, hours later. I saw the picture in my mind from my heart. I wrote it, but I was out of step, not the right beat.
I think that you write as beautiful a poem about Violets as any I have ever read LunaRed. You write straight from your heart and I always see your heart in your writings and feel blessed inside that I have.
There is one quote about violets that kept tracing my mind in thought last night. I have finally found it this morning. It surprised me that it was by an anonymous writer. Some of the most deep felt and beautiful sayings, come from anonymous writers. I have so often wished there were a name, yet feel so grateful for the opportunity to have read it at all.
I had read it years ago and saved it because it touched me inside.
"Forgiveness is the fragrance the
violet sheds on the heel that crushed
it"
~ Anonymous ~
I see more writings of Violets and flowers and dog :) this morning.
Sam, you said that you didn`t write much poetry. Maybe your pen doesn`t but you have poetry in your heart to recognize it when you see it, or is that art? Even in the pictures you find for the poems you choose. You get it all together. There surely is a name for the ability to see and feel something this way. It must be some kind of poetry or art. We all have something inside us that recognizes what is.
There is creative force that comes from within and I believe this is God and continuously moving within us desiring to bloom and bloom. I look all around me, I see it everywhere, and in this room and I am only one of many passing through ~
I am trying to write a story about my dog. Being here, has helped me along in doing this. I am penning it, so when I set my pen down, I touch the keyboard when a thought comes or I find a little something to share. Sometimes only my silliness which is relentless at times. I can say I have played, have had fun, have lived,
I was here and met others and I learned more.
One little story about my dog. She was a beautiful Collie. I don`t have a way to show her here yet, but maybe someday I can. She died March 1st of last year 04.
I`ll tie this little story in with flowers. There is a long strip of garden along the garage wall. I have seasonal flowers that bloom in there. The first to arrive are the tulips, of every color. Then the others bloom.
I have two pink Peonies in this garden bed. One was about six yrs and the other eight or nine. I have them dated. Neither had ever bloomed. The peony that was the oldest in years, I thought that this one would never have a chance to ever bloom. This garden was her favorite spot to shade herself, to lay her entire body right on top of this peony plant! I cannot count the times I shoo`d her away from it. She chose her spot and Collies are so sure of their will. It is hard to scold a collie if we become tested. She taught me to be calm and just say what I mean in a respectful manor, and then she would always, always try to please. I learned many lessons in patience from her. I learned about listening, through observing. Humans are still trying to teach me. I so desire to become more, because love
never ends ~
This same green plant peony bloomed three months after she died. It only One bloom.
It was Pink.
It was on Independence Day.
July 4 2004`
Blessings and Happy Sunday all Hearts*
my melody
The sun is shining so bright today *
Thanks so much for being in the Lair with the sweep of your hand spreading violets here and there
and your gentle voice and happy thoughts.
Each poet coming into the Lair leaves their own impression here. The beauty of poetry's uniqueness.
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