Thursday, February 13, 2014

Flowers Everywhere...

—Poems and Photos by Martie Odell-Ingebretsen, Sacramento


Today I dressed in feelings
covered my hair in a net of hope
and let it fall over my shoulders

I walked out into the morning
with shoes like dirt so sturdy yet giving
because I felt like I was moving through time
and it was not wasting
tapping my shoulder with directions

Shoulder pads of compassion saw me
down the corridor of age
where wheelchairs directed the day
and death was fragrant in the looks
that watched me for recognition
and when my smile touched the air
it sprinkled across those faces
like candy sprinkles on cake

At a house on the street of weeping I knocked
and waited with impatience dotting my I
but when the door opened to tears
my red dress melted across the porch
and my arms ached with cotton sleeves of understanding
even the flowers that I pressed across the threshold
folded as pain fell into their light

I would have stayed with the comfort
that I felt tight around my chest
but I knew that she could see the sign stranger
hanging around my neck and her grief needed a friend

Besides I still needed my wheels of fortune
to take me over the hill to somewhere else
when around the curve to last stop
the whole thing fell over
and the water of life leaked onto the floorboard
and followed me with a trail to a tall and stately building
bedraggled and not even apologetic I asked for a drink
to help me go back to where I had been

So all things considered and a telephone call
I guess I could call it a day
and to find the doorbell with no sound
was the way it was more often then not

but the clincher was the going around and about
and up and down to a bell that I could not ring
not in my ordinary clothes
not without flowers in my hand
and my heart on my sleeve.


He came into the shop, slightly dumpy
and looking at the floor,
then a glance at the plants,
when his eyes went to the orchid
with a spike of lavender attached in rows,
then I saw how his spirit rose.

He thought he wasn’t him of vibrant core, before,
thought he was not good enough for her adore,
not something enough to smile at, for sure,
but I did just then in his direction
and I pretty-pleased him to see the flower
wanting bloom was he,
and with a card I watched his eyes reflect
on what to say and how the meaning went,

then he gave it to me with trust he’d found
to say, with love,
no words are more profound


There are baskets and baskets
and vases galore
there are stuffed teddy bears
sitting plump on the floor

There are tulips in colors
that you haven’t fathomed
and ones that are feathered
like birds, just imagine

There are daffodil faces
so perfectly cast
that they warm up the room
like the sun on the grass

There is purple hydrangea
full and robust
and dainty pink roses
for sweetness a must

A flower shop blooming
so full of perfume
that it wears ode to springtime
to freshen the room

Do you like blue of iris
with nostalgic heather
we have it here
no matter the weather

A flower shop’s magic
is in smiles that it brings
to be part of the music
makes everyone sing.


Homes with shaded vestibules
filled with greenly moist profusion,
windows filled with lives unspoken
like a photo of strife or comfort,
hear the chaos feel the peace.

See the polished hardwood floor,
table inviting with four chairs
flowers picked so fresh and sweet
from a garden of straight lines.

In a second floor apartment,
smell of cigarettes hangs heavy,
woman opens with three children,
table filled with unpaid bills.

Hospice smiles and cool walls
silked with flowers everlasting,
doors the color of pale skin
gently tended by special hands.

Inside this Spanish living room
with the feel of ancient class,
groomed and spreads across my vision
away from my insistent clutter.

Roses roses scattered petals,

another day in the life
of a flower delivery girl.


Today's LittleNip:

There are always flowers for those who want to see them.

—Henri Matisse