Let the flowers make a journey
on Monday so that I can see
ten daisies in a blue vase
with perhaps one red ant
crawling to the gold center.
A bit of the field on my table,
close to the worms
who struggle blinding,
moving deep into their slime,
moving deep into God’s abdomen,
moving like oil through water,
sliding through the good brown.
The daisies grow wild
like popcorn.
They are God’s promise to the field.
How happy I am, daisies, to love you.
How happy you are to be loved
and found magical, like a secret
from the sluggish field.
If all the world picked daisies
wars would end, the common cold would stop,
unemployment would end, the monetary market
would hold steady and no money would float.
Listen world.
if you’d just take the time to pick
the white flowers, the penny heart,
all would be well.
They are so unexpected.
They are as good as salt.
If someone had brought them
to van Gogh’s room daily
his ear would have stayed on.
I would like to think that no one would die anymore
if we all believed in daisies
but the worms know better, don’t they?
They slide into the ear of a corpse
and listen to his great sigh.
This poem represents the mere illusion of a good life and just facing reality. The flowers are an illusion of an good life that is impossible for one to live in this time of age. During different seasons and different periods of time, flowers fade away and die out while worms adapt to their environment despite harsh or unpleasant conditions. The worms represent reality while the flowers represents the good life most Americans dream of but will never happen.
what does this poem mean!! someone please help me and e-mail the meaning to me if you know it!!!! i need the meaning by monday!! my e-mail address is renee.marsolan@selu.edu