Poppies

Poppies
Mary Oliver

The poppies send up their
orange flares; swaying
in the wind, their congregations
are a levitation

of bright dust, of thin
and lacy leaves.
There isn't a place
in this world that doesn't

sooner or later drown
in the indigos of darkness,
but now, for a while,
the roughage

shines like a miracle
as it floats above everything
with its yellow hair.
Of course nothing stops the cold,

black, curved blade
from hooking forward—
of course
loss is the great lesson.

But I also say this: that light
is an invitation
to happiness,
and that happiness,

when it's done right,
is a kind of holiness,
palpable and redemptive.
Inside the bright fields,

touched by their rough and spongy gold,
I am washed and washed
in the river
of earthly delight—

and what are you going to do—
what can you do
about it—
deep, blue night?

by Mary Oliver

Comments (37)

It's all a game of unconscious, where our uncalled fears and unfulfilled desires are reshaped in dreams. We all see such dreams when we are not enjoying a deep sleep. A good poetess like Melvina Germain is capable enough to describe such dreams in a great poem like this. It's a wonderful poem.
The Lord has so much to share with you. i saw mirrors within the still waters. what a fine expression. your poetic vision and expressions are amazing. thank you dear Poetess
You've taken me to that place. A truly wonderful work, now among my favourites...
I salute to your descriptive power, I salute to the universality of messages you convey, I salute to your poetry! ...10
Gifts of God are unique and splendorous. In my poem The Hymn of mercy I have stated Divine Charity. Beautiful poem..Love your ink. Thanks for sharing. Regards.
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