flower

Chance ~ A Poem by Elsa Gidlow

by

Headline: Finding Fate in the Smallest Seconds: An Analysis of Elsa Gidlow’s “Chance”

In a world of curated dating profiles and calculated swipes, could your entire future still hinge on something as simple as the choice of a flower?

Chance

Elsa Gidlow

Strange that a single white iris
Given carelessly one slumbering spring midnight
Should be the first of love,
Yet life is written so.

If it had been a rose
I might have smiled and pinned it to my dress:
We should have said Good Night casually
And never met again.
But the white iris!
It looked so infinitely pure
In the thin green moonlight.
A thousand little purple things
That had trembled about me through the young years
Floated into a shape I seem always to have known
That I suddenly called Love!

The faint touch of your long fingers on mine wakened me.
I saw that your tumbled hair was bright with flame,
That your eyes were sapphire souls with
hungry stars in them,
And your lips were too near not to be kissed.

Life crouches at the knees of Chance
And takes what falls to her.

Source

The Iris Effect: Why Small Moments Define Our Destiny

Elsa Gidlow’s “Chance” is a masterclass in the “butterfly effect” of the human heart. She argues that if the gift had been a standard rose—a cliché of affection—the spark would have fizzled into a casual “Good Night.” Instead, the “infinitely pure” white iris acted as a catalyst, transforming a vague collection of feelings into the definitive shape of Love.

In contemporary society, we often try to optimize our lives, using algorithms to minimize risk and predict compatibility. Gidlow reminds us that the human spirit cannot be fully automated. We are still subjects to the “slumbering spring midnight” and the electric, unplanned touch of fingers. Living today requires us to remain vulnerable to these unscripted moments. As Gidlow concludes, “Life crouches at the knees of Chance”; our greatest task is simply to be awake when the “hungry stars” finally align.

As you read this poem, ask yourself:

In your own life, what was the “white iris”—that seemingly insignificant detail or accidental meeting—that completely rewrote the trajectory of your heart?

The Vision ~ A Poem by William Sharp

by

The Vision

William Sharp

In a fair place
Of whin and grass,
I heard feet pass
Where no one was.

I saw a face
Bloom like a flower–
Nay, as the rainbow-shower
Of a tempestuous hour.

It was not man, or woman:
It was not human:
But, beautiful and wild,
Terribly undefiled,
I knew an unborn child.

Source

We should not mind so small a flower 

by

We should not mind so small a flower 

By Emily Dickinson

We should not mind so small a flower 

Except it quiet bring

Our little garden that we lost

Back to the Lawn again –

So spicy her Carnations nod –

So drunken, reel her Bees –

So silver, steal a hundred flutes

From out a hundred trees –

That whoso sees this little flower

By faith, may clear behold

The Bobolinks around the throne

And Dandelions gold.

One Flower ~ A Haiku by Jack Kerouac

by

One Flower

Jack Kerouac

One flower
on the cliffside
Nodding at the canyon

Source

Today’s Poem: Flower Among Flowers by Jose Rizal

by

Flower Among Flowers

Jose Rizal

Flower among flowers,
soft bud swooning,
that the wind moves
to a gentle crooning.
Wind of heaven,
wind of love,
you who gladden
all you espy;
you who smile
and will not sigh,
candour and fragrance
from above;
you who perhaps
came down to earth
to bring the lonely
solace and mirth,
and to be a joy
for the heart to capture.
They say that into
your dawn you bear
the immaculate soul
a prisoner
— bound with the ties of
passion and rapture?

They say you spread
good everywhere
like the Spring
which fills the air
with joy and flowers
in Apriltime.
They say you brighten
the soul that mourns
when dark clouds gather,
and that without thorns
blossom the roses
in your clime.
If then, like a fairy,
you enhance
the joy of those
on whom you glance
with the magic charm
God gave to you;
oh, spare me an hour
of your cheer,
a single day
of your career,
that the breast may savor
the bliss it knew.

Source

Today’s Poem: Song of the Flower XXIII by Khalil Gibran

by

Song of the Flower XXIII

Khalil Gibran

I am a kind word uttered and repeated
By the voice of Nature;
I am a star fallen from the
Blue tent upon the green carpet.
I am the daughter of the elements
With whom Winter conceived;
To whom Spring gave birth; I was
Reared in the lap of Summer and I
Slept in the bed of Autumn.

At dawn I unite with the breeze
To announce the coming of light;
At eventide I join the birds
In bidding the light farewell.

The plains are decorated with
My beautiful colors, and the air
Is scented with my fragrance.

As I embrace Slumber the eyes of
Night watch over me, and as I
Awaken I stare at the sun, which is
The only eye of the day.

I drink dew for wine, and hearken to
The voices of the birds, and dance
To the rhythmic swaying of the grass.

I am the lover’s gift; I am the wedding wreath;
I am the memory of a moment of happiness;
I am the last gift of the living to the dead;
I am a part of joy and a part of sorrow.

But I look up high to see only the light,
And never look down to see my shadow.
This is wisdom which man must learn.

Source

Today’s Inspiring Photo: Life Wins

by

Today’s Inspiring Photo ~ Life Wins – Life Always Wins

by

“The Flower” a Poem by Lord Alfred Tennyson

by

The Flower 

Lord Alfred Tennyson

Once in a golden hour
I cast to earth a seed.
Up there came a flower,
The people said, a weed.

To and fro they went
Thro’ my garden bower,
And muttering discontent
Cursed me and my flower.

Then it grew so tall
It wore a crown of light,
But thieves from o’er the wall
Stole the seed by night.

Sow’d it far and wide
By every town and tower,
Till all the people cried,
“Splendid is the flower!”

Read my little fable:
He that runs may read.
Most can raise the flowers now,
For all have got the seed.

And some are pretty enough,
And some are poor indeed;
And now again the people
Call it but a weed.

Source

Today’s Poem ~ The Flower at My Window by Lucian B. Watkins

by

The Flower at My Window

Lucian B. Watkins

O! my heart now feels so cheerful as I go with footsteps light
      In the daily toil of my dear home; 
And I’ll tell to you the secret that now makes my life so bright—
      There’s a flower at my window in full bloom. 

It is radiant in the sunshine, and so cheerful after rain; 
        And it wafts upon the air its sweet perfume. 
It is very, very lovely! May its beauties never wane—
        This dear flower at my window in full bloom. 

Nature has so clothed it in such glorious array, 
      And it does so cheer our home, and hearts illume; 
Its dear mem’ry I will cherish though the flower fade away—
      This dear flower at my window in full bloom. 

Oft I gaze upon this flower with its blossoms pure and white. 
        And I think as I behold its gay costume, 
While through life we all are passing may our lives be always bright 
        Like this flower at my window in full bloom.

Source

Verified by MonsterInsights