This Poem was Submitted By: Marcia L McCaslin On Date: 2014-11-15 14:29:21 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Tulip Bulbs

The tulip bulbs came on a cold, heartless day when autumn and winter were at war. Already the General’s winter army had snowed on the fiery gold of autumn, and both times Autumn had won, but the winter army knew time was on its side. It had done this before. The pathetic dried-up bulbs had the look of onion-skin in a thunderstorm, and if there was life Inside, you could have fooled me. They looked like they had come across the ocean in a row- Boat. A bitter wind from the north tore at the paper of instructions. Plant “pointy-end” up.  My  Containers had been prepared in September with the “Black Gold” and “Bulb Food”, and Pebbles for drainage with all the love and care that parents display for the arrival of a new baby. “What about here?” I had asked my husband.  “Too much sun?  Too little?  Or here—how about Here?  Will that tree be blocking the sun’s May angle? “‘There’ seems perfect,” he said, not Looking up. “Men!”  I blew a rebellious lock of grey hair away from my eyes. These things are Dead anyway, I thought to myself. I’m calling the company on Monday. Time slowed. Winter drew a stark landscape of dead-looking trees, and then tried to cover its crime with  Darkness, both early and late. We sang Christmas Carols and popped corn to show that we Were not afraid, like folks whistling past the graveyard. January got stuck in its  own tracks. We literally sank into February with darkness folding in on all sides, with feet unable to move. Finally, the rumor of spring was true and the tulips made their age-old reach toward the sun. Shortly thereafter, gorgeous blooms unfurled, exposing myriad colors and frills and melodies Of petals adorning succulent, stately stems. And then a funny thing happened while I was  Watching the miracle that tulips are; a pregnant doe found the tulips and I can only imagine the Joy she must have felt. With eyes half-closed she munched on one tasty flower after another. (I read somewhere that if a pregnant woman really likes something, like mac’n’cheese, her Baby in utero develops the same taste.) So again I imagine the rest: as the mama-deer Walked away from Spring’s buffet, the fawn gave her a kick that said: “That was GOOD, Mom.”

Copyright © November 2014 Marcia L McCaslin


This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2014-11-22 14:25:42
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Marcia, a well done anecdotal piece. Of note for me were the battles that waged, of autumn and winter, or shadow and light, or even beauty and consumption. There was a continual second theme throughout the story. Bulbs, now there is one of the few planting scenarios that I haven’t more than a passing interest in. It has always been, for me, if I and my family can’t eat it, I’m not planting it. Then again, maybe the worst sort of hypocrite, I am somebody who adores the beauty of nature, will stop and smell the flowers (then write about it) and appreciate the time and effort everyone else, or nature, might put into it all to pleas me. Hypocrite and parasite I guess. Then came the deer. I dived between the lines to find a single moment of disdain for the deer eating the handiwork. I did not. Your copy was clean. Whether in utero or by example, I think it all plays out the same. I won’t tag on all the clichés, but there are times when we all learn to watch, learn, and scratch the itch correctly. Splend


This Poem was Critiqued By: Joe Gustin On Date: 2014-11-21 14:26:07
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
You are such an effective story writer. This poem read like a perfect short story of creation despite the odds and of unexpected endings. You make it so easy to join in the fun of your visuals. Has to be the best work of have read this month. Well done
This Poem was Critiqued By: Medard Louis Lefevre Jr. On Date: 2014-11-21 00:24:51
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Absolutely gorgeous, it mesmerized me and kept me in a trance. I don't know anything about technique but this writing was perfect to me. Thank you for such a beautiful effort and for posting it. Medard
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