She was a sequoia seed
Planted in a pot and
Fed rose rations
After all
Who doesn't like flowers?
She was a sequoia seed
Planted in a pot and
Fed rose rations
After all
Who doesn't like flowers?
Last Few Words: Title is a play on the metaphor, referencing the practice of foot binding (lotus feet)
Review Request Direction:
What did you think of my title?
How does this theme appeal to you?
Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft
Comments
perhaps in the garden, she
perhaps in the garden, she hopes someday transplanted,
among her peer
and fair, who floral rush
solitary her pot
Emeka,
Emeka,
I think very much that was her desire, to be realized rather than trivialized or diminutized
Thank you for your thoughts:)
logic
Interesting to look at a geisha in that way. The practice of foot binding was mostly done to geisha to keep their feet small and beautiful looking. Who wants a partner with big ugly looking feet. There is something very sensual about massage a woman's feet. To think of them as a flower is a beautiful thought.
I like this a lot, because it made for beautiful imagines in my head. I also like the way it is written short and to the point. as metaphors go, this is a well though out one that lead to contemplation.
The final thought is excellent as a good question,
"Who doesn't like flowers?
Bravo!
Eddie
Eddie,
Eddie,
Thank you for the read and I appreciate that you took some time to think on it.
I am worried, though, that my message has been confounded in your interpretation, as I've intended this as a criticism of the practice
Logic
Sweet little piece of writing.
You say it is about foot binding.
I met a lovely lady one day at school I am not sure how old I was but it would have been in the 1950's she was my hero,
Her name was Gladys Aylward, they made a film about her life called "The Inn of The Sixth Happiness", she was a little Woman that could move mountains Bless Her, a place in my better memories.
Take care out there Yours Ian.T
Ian,
Ian,
Since your mentioning of her, I've read about Aylward. I'm awed by her story and happy that you've made this connection for me! thank you
Confusing combination of
Confusing combination of three different plants.
I am not sure what you are saying in this poem.
Right, I didn't include any
Right, I didn't include any context.
In short: I wrote this reflecting on the practice of foot binding (also known as lotus feet) whereby, between the Song Dynasty and the until the early 20th century in China, some young girls feet were bound tightly to prevent proper development. This was traditionally seen as beautiful and as a symbol of status.
In the write I am comparing a young girl full of potential to that of a Sequoia seed. But she is not allowed to grow strong and proud. Instead it is decided for her to stay small and docile, and to be tended to like a rose.
Thank you for the read!
It is a splendid explanation
It is a splendid explanation and the topic is in fact much deeper. In many societies across the globe and time development of individuals is suppressed by social norms. Women suffer the most.
So in your poem you could mentioned bound feet, it will be a symbol to envoke the thoughts about suppression, unfairness on one hand and fragile beauty of youth on the other hand.
Thank you for the re-read and
Thank you for the re-read and the suggestion. I definitely could have taken this a bit further. For now, at least, I think I will keep it small and beautiful.
I read this as a tragic and
I read this as a tragic and barbaric costume that plays to mens pleasure and egos. you capture it with grace. thanks for this!
*hugs, Cat
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Hi Cat,
Hi Cat,
Your reading is the in tune with what I was trying to intimate. Thank you for the read and nice comment:)
This
has a Keatsian imagistic charge to it you don't see in most poems. You can sense, intimate the charge between the stanza break you've got. Good poem.
John Thomas Allen
I am very honored by your
I am very honored by your comparison. Thank you for finding such merit in this little poem