Flower of Power

~ qbit
Your head is a flower!Yes, I am the beautiful “Metamorphosis.” Kafka’s vision abducted at birth, found alive in a crack of pavement outside Prague. Passionate. Unbowed.
“After a night of uneasy sleep, dreams pressing roots deeper into the soil, fingers aching like thorns, Gregor Samsa awoke to find he was transformed into a wild rose.”
But sadly.Yes, sadly past peak. Drooping and wilted. What can one do?
How do you see without eyes?You mean how do I smell when it is I, rose, the center of the world?
It is for you to pluck and die with not knowing, to find your way to me by scent alone.
You have become one, not many.
You have sacrificed your humanity.Liar!!! The world pulls through my veins into the very color of my petals.
What sustains us, the garden of origin and eternity. Let there be light – flowers were first to turn towards god.
If only you too welcomed bees onto your face, felt their tongues.
As well the wasps with murder in their eyes and bellies. They, too, dab for nectar.
What? What would I know?
You are just a begonia, high on plant food.
It is really irritating.My thoughts are a choke of pollen, wind sweeping across the pavement. Wipers pushing to and fro on the windshield of your car.
Please be practical.My wife no longer needs a vase. She can clear out the cupboard over the stove.
And you?

The Sunday Muse

33 thoughts on “Flower of Power”

  4. This was quite an amazing read, flowers were the first to turn their heads to god, I guess they knew they needed to follow the light to survive. It made me think of sunflowers and their endless desire to face the sun. To feel the bees is to know the beauty of the bee as they keep the world growing. I love the questioning and replies. “A begonia high on plant food” Perhaps, it’s better to be a wildflower with strong roots.

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  5. Kafka’s tale is such a strange and often funny one, with Gregor continually caught up with minutia like being late for work, rather than seeing his situation for the horror that it is. Perhaps, as a flower instead of a cockroach, his family won’t turn him out this time, but rather, keep him on the mantel or something, where he can get the morning sun. Hopefully the cat won’t knock him over.

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  7. Comes a time when romance is kaput. Question then, will the love endure? Happens often when aging destroys beauty.
    Good use of the illustrations today.
    ..

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  8. (Please ignore my previous comment as it was meant for Hank’s.)
    I enjoyed your format, QB. An interesting Surrealistic interpretation when one has scanned and the closed the eyes in recording the ensuing thoughts. Matches our bubble covered headed lady wandering in her rose garden.
    BTW, Mrs. Jim and our youngest granddaughter were on the Today Show scan and greeting Midweek before. Their speech, “We’re from Houston, Texas.”
    They and our daughter were babysitting the older sister’s cat while she was away on holiday.
    Big sister’s apartment was on 37th St. near the river.
    ..

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    1. Oh, nice! I hope they enjoyed themselves. The weather has been really nice the last week or so. Mid 70’s and low humidity. I hope they got to Central Park for a nice stroll.

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  9. You are just a begonia, high on plant food.”

    Yes indeed, sometimes the insult just turns out to be silly😁

    Happy Sunday qbit.

    Much❤love

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  10. I have to lean carefully around our roses to water because they are fierce of thorn and determined to swallow as much as they can reach…I can imagine an insistent conversation with them and with the other volunteers who pop up, sigh “Your yard, again?” and continue to bloom. Love this!

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  14. this; “What sustains us, the garden of origin and eternity. Let there be light – flowers were first to turn their faces to god.
    If only you too welcomed bees onto your face, felt their tongues.
    As well the wasps with murder in their eyes and bellies. They, too, dab for nectar.”

    that is just brilliant. this is my second reading, and just as stunning as the first. i really like this format, i like how these poem converse, and cool way to thread the poem, very well done

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    1. Hey, thank you so much. I never know how these are going to turn out, glad you liked it. (OK, sure, we never know how anyone will read what we write, but you know what I mean, LOL!)

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  17. Lewis Carroll launching water balloons at Jerry Garcia after sampling each and every fermented potato derivative on a serf’s plot someone outside St. Petersburg. ~

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  18. Once again you manage to transport the reader into a most unlikely place–the name of the rose called out by itself amid all it’s conceits, if roses were something humans could be–and make it believable and real. Kafkaesque, indeed, but also really creative and effective. You absolutely own this style, the call-and-response. Forgive me for being out of touch as well–the ungodly heat we’re having here renders everything limp, including my brain cells.

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