Blushing buds cling
to dove-grey, bone-dry tree limbs
as a single question ebbs
and flows in the waters of my mind,
‘what is my worth in another’s eyes?’
Does it matter if I am no longer here?
The pink peach tree, as though
conscious of the whirlwind
brewing inside of me, blooms riotously.
It is a question that bothers me, as
a Poet, as a lady who doesn’t conform
to the rules of society,
I’d rather be versatile as the sky,
drift high across the sea
and whisper to the sun and moon,
they have wisdom which none other can
compare to– the pink peach tree continues
to swirl in the wind.
It is the loveliest peach in the orchard
and yet, there is a sadness to it,
its petals are more white
than they are pink, if you observe closely,
and it towers boldly,
regardless of the scent of death in the air,
I wonder, if she decorates wounds,
absorbs the anguish
of those who lie under her shade
until the sun has slipped below the horizon.
Can she handle its weight?
The world turns quiet, as night falls;
the question burns but is somehow placed
into the furthest corner of my mind,
in its stead, is an image intense,
if I could describe the emotion
that has me in its clutches, I would–
but for now, I leave you,
dear reader, with a question of my own,
it’s the only way
to empty the mind of its noise,
‘what do you see in the pink peach tree?’
Photo credits: The Pink Peach Tree by Vincent Van Gogh, (1888), oil on canvas, Pinterest.
Melissa hosts at dVerse where she invites us to select a piece of artwork and
write an ekphrastic poem. Come join us! ❤️
Posted for Poetics: Haunted @dVerse Poets Pub
32 Responses
A lovely choice, Sanaa, and an even lovelier poem. I love those ‘blushing buds’ and the use of colours. I particularly love:
‘The pink peach tree, as though
conscious of the whirlwind
brewing inside of me, blooms riotously’
and
‘I’d rather be versatile as the sky,
drift high across the sea
and whisper to the sun and moon’.
Awww gosh! Thank you so much, Kim 😀 so glad you enjoyed it! 💄❤️
Courage and comfort, even with the scent of death in the air. I love the question and this part is my favorite:
I wonder, if she decorates wounds,
absorbs the anguish
of those who lie under her shade
until the sun has slipped below the horizon.
Can she handle its weight?
Thank you so much, Grace 😀 so glad the poem and its imagery appealed to you 💄❤️
I love the way you saw the death in the peach tree in that third stanza, and I do indeed see the same sadness in its beauty… Maybe it’s the brevity of its bloom that makes you sad.
Yes maybe! Thank you so much, Bjorn 😀 so glad the poem resonated with you 💄❤️
We both ended with a question! Let’s see what answers we get. The peach tree stands for Vincent I think. An ode as haunted as the man was. Well done.
Ah yes, I felt that way too! I tried to merge with his perspective. Thank you so much, Petru 😀 so glad you liked it! 💄❤️
Sanaa, I see the observer/assessor/judge of the peach tree as suffering an acute paranoia, where even the most innocent of persons, places, and things are suspected of harboring hidden agendas and/or ill-intent. Perhaps the lovely peach tree is but a mirror to the sufferer? It does make me wonder how van Gogh could paint such beauty yet be so troubled, which I also spoke to in my poem.
Beautiful poeming, Dear Sanaa.
I love your insight on this painting! Thank you so much, Lisa 😀 so glad the poem resonated with you 💄❤️
As always you give us much to ponder. The fragility of life can be seen in the brief bloom of a peach tree–
and yet, it “blooms riotously.” 💙💙
Thank you so much, Merril 😀 so glad the poem and its imagery appealed to you 💄❤️
I see love in the peach tree. Though it be sparse and sometimes seemingly scarce, it lingers though everything around it may be dying.❤️
I see that too mingled with a bit of sorrow. Thank you so much, Melissa 😀 so glad you liked it 💄❤️
(and thank you for the glorious prompt) 🥂
“The pink peach tree, as though
conscious of the whirlwind
brewing inside of me, blooms riotously. ”
Nature stirs us indeed, be it just awe or to
questions of existence
Nice one
Much💛love
Thank you so much, Gillena 😀 so good to see you 💄❤️
Much love back 🌷
A pleasure to read, Sanaa! I love this line: “I wonder, if she decorates wounds” — I doubt this could be said any better.
Awww gosh! Thank you so much, Dora 😀 so glad you enjoyed it 💄❤️
A gorgeous poem, Sanaa! A great question. It will be a never-ending one it seems.
Thank you so much, Dwight 😀 so glad the poem and its imagery appealed to you 💄❤️
A gently questioning poem. Perhaps what we see isn’t as important as what we know.
Yes, perhaps! Thank you so much, Jane 😀 so glad the poem resonated with you 💄❤️
It is a question that bothers me, as a Poet, as a lady who doesn’t conform to the rules of society ~~ I am quite thankful THIS IS YOU! I see splendor in the peach tree.
Awww gosh! Thank you so much, Helen 😀 so glad you liked it! 💄❤️
Wow, Sanaa…you capture the brooding questions of the peach tree (which seems to me to be shivering)!
Thank you so much, Lynn 😀 so glad the poem resonated with you 💄❤️
Van Gogh gave us the magic in everything he saw, all of it completely and vividly alive. The tree seems to be lit up from inside, as he was.
Precisely! Thank you so much, Kerfe 😀 so glad the poem and its imagery appealed to you 💄❤️
“can she handle its weight?” … this is my favorite line. lovely poem!
❤️❤️❤️
I see a bittersweet hue in the pink peach tree of this poem, the yearning and burning, sweetly bitter, on fire in winter. All true eros is willing to look deeply into that tree and see both flourish and cost in that which we love most.
I see that too! Thank you so much, Brendan 😀 so glad the poem resonated with you 💄❤️