Sunflowers
Joan Mitchell painted sunflowers, over and over, which always makes me think of Van Gogh (as she did, too, although her colors are softer, her strokes open and layered lightly)—the intense yellows and burning oranges, the ground a mysterious combination of blue and green. My father’s Aunt Lil often talked about that undefinable intermixture of hues, which also glowed behind her favorite painting of almond blossoms.
Aunt Lil taught my brothers and me to play poker, ignoring my mother’s silent Protestant disapproval. She was a champion bridge player, a potter (I still have a vase), a judge’s secretary, a woman who became far larger that the life that had been mapped out for her in the early 20th century. She was the daughter who lived at home and took care of her mother until her mother died. They watched the Saturday Night Fights every weekend on TV.
She called my father Chickie, and came to Sunday dinner often when we lived in Baltimore.
They say her fiancée died before they could marry.
Your laugh infectious,
opening like a flower–
I smile in return.
I’m not sure this answers the Day 10 NaPoWriMo prompt for multiple things happening at the same time…but certainly the mind rambles and holds many images and thoughts at the same time, even if we can only write it out in sequence afterwards.
16 responses to “Sunflowers”
Trackbacks / Pingbacks
- April 14, 2018 -
- April 26, 2018 -
I really love this. The combinations of imagery are gorgeous, and I like how it moves from very loose prose poetry to ending with a haiku. Like the mind narrowing down, from stream-of-consciousness of abstract ideas in looser form, to a strict syllabic form for the very specific imagery of laughter. It all fits so well. And I think it worked great for the prompt. =)
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thanks so much Katie! The haibun seemed the perfect form for my ruminations. I like your observation about narrowing down.
LikeLiked by 1 person
What an amazing woman
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thanks Lynn. Yes she was.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love this–the memory, the art, and the closing senyru.
And you are right about the memories sparking many thoughts, or the other way around, perhaps both.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Merril. I hope she knew how special she was to us. Now I’m smiling all over again!
LikeLiked by 1 person
We’ll always remember those smiles, won’t we.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Always.
LikeLiked by 1 person
❤️
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Jodi.
LikeLike
Sunflowers remind me of my mother, I like what you shared about your Aunt. She sounds like she was a lot of fun and yet sensitive and caring too. 💕🌻 And I love your collaged version of sunflowers! Wow! 😃
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Jill. Flowers are so evocative. I always think of my mother when I see roses.
Aunts have had an outsize influence on me…I’ve enjoyed being one myself. They should get more credit!
LikeLiked by 1 person
found you over at ZouxZoux whom I’ve followed for years (not just poetry – we are old blogging buddies). Liked your comment so I wanted to come see and I’m so glad I did. I think you absolutely met the prompt’s parameters (maybe I should pay attention to the prompts. I didn’t get a poem yesterday). Love this: Aunt Lil taught my brothers and me to play poker, ignoring my mother’s silent Protestant disapproval.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks for visiting and your kind words. Yes, Aunt Lil had no problem ignoring disapproval. A lesson I have yet to learn…
LikeLike