Highway Flowers

Critiques:

I don't think of flowers moving upon the breeze so much as in the breeze, but my way wouldn't sound as nice. I would have liked it to be about flowers lining a specific stretch of highway, but that isn't necessary.

Compliments and Reactions:

The last two lines packed a punch and added an extra dimension to the commentary on the flowers' resilience. I may be reaching, but I sensed a sort of working-class solidarity in the poem. It has something to do with the commonness of the flowers, paired with the message about their resilience. For me, the poem isn't just about the miraculous resilience of nature, but the downtrodden, disenfranchised, and displaced--the first to be sacrificed and have their homes demolished to make way for highways. Not all that rare, but full of grit. The margins are full of survivors. I enjoyed the poem the way I enjoyed A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.

Interpretation of first stanza

The poem to me feels like a man (the poet) who has detached himself from its origin to find peace and solitude in a place where it's only him and the sky above, where none eyes stares but his only that sees purple flowers blooming in patches here and there. It gives me an imagery of unsettling and confused mind that's all over the place as if the poet has now finally come back from hiatus only to help himself become anew. The choice of the color "purple" symbolises two things simultaneously-- acceptance of loneliness as its healer and the fortitude to go on even if it pains. The poet being unaware of the species of these flowers and him trying to presume gives off a vibe that he is still trying to find out bits and pieces of himself, in this midst he ironically assumes himself as not that rare.

At first, the flowers really striked the poet but upon gazing it for a while he begins to wish to know its name, its origin and being unable to do he concludes it like any other ordinary flower. It seems like a tug-of-war between recognizing the old and the new, between not knowing ones strength and underestimating, between life and death, and if a choice isn't made he might find himself to nowhere; also why the purple can represent a feeling of lost. It can neither be a melancholic feeling that comes off blue or the passionate desire of red. It's something of between that in and of itself is rare for it's the quality of both positive and negative energies.

Interpretation of the second stanza

The breeze is all the turmoil for me, no matter how difficult the poet's circumstances may be, he might come under the effects of mayhem around him, brought by the chaotic wind that which he can't entirely avoid and with no choice he dances along, changing his form, embracing the pain. One might take his actions for weakness but it's truly of the characteristics of bravery, for a man that endures is a man who becomes. He despite stands undaunted and resolute which the poet depicts by using a simile like a defiant field of amethyst. This, here, is the utlimate success of the man that endures, the purple flowers that seemed so ordinary to him has now transformed into one of the best gemstone. (How can a flower turn into a stone? This is a poem, it's all imaginary, also we let happen anything in art). But this is what I feel-- the man came fragile and alone like the flowers, his thoughts scattered around here and there. And overtime as he learnt to accept and forgive himself he found himself amongst the field of amethyst, strong like a stone and gleaming through the pain that he withstood. Also, it's easy to uproot a flower that's in its prime phase of blooming but not a crystal. No man can uproot that with his bare hands.

I closely feel it's a poem of becoming, transition, and realising that going through pain is necessary as it shapes us into our best forms.

I, honestly, do not find any critique in the poem. It's short and simple yet so heavy on the heart. In fact, it's quite difficult to portray a perspective we intend to with short phrases as it may feel incomplete to us, and that many times is evident. However, I don't see a half-complete mood in this poem which is quite great considering how you finished the poem by adding such a strong affirmative tone to it

Keep the light up!

Along the highway purple flowers bloom

A scene of high speed, moving so fast the speaker can accurately identify only acknowledge. There is "purpled", they are "flowers", and they are in "bloom".

In patches, here and there.

A patchwork of generalities.

What kind they are, I can’t presume,

Not at this speed and not without getting out. Why doesn't the speaker simply stop?

​

Upon the breeze, they sway and twist,

How can speaker hear the breeze when they are going at highway speeds? Its as if they have access to the world outside the car.

Yet still stand resolute,

The determination still identifiable.

Like a defiant field of amethyst

It feels like this is meant to be "defiant" to idea of knowing, or truly knowing something, through its signifier, and then cascades right into geological terms, "amethyst". Seems self-contradictory.

Even man cannot uproot.

Unable to mine out, contact. Again, perhaps to people only driving by.

​

This feels like a piece that is make a poetic statement illusion of ontology gained from study and terminology. The speaker is on the highway, satisfied by the subtle imagery passing around them. They see "purple" and don't have the need to delve any deeper, able to recognize as the general "flower" and within the logical constraints and formulations associated to its being: its a flower, flowers "bloom", that's that. They watch the flowers buffet in the wind, impressed by there existence that would seem flimsy but otherwise established, causing a moment of poetic inspiration of the speaker which, too, is satisfactory.

I appreciate that this piece wants to promote the import of generalized concepts as means of being, in themselves, as being intrinsic to their own selves, but I'm vexed when it comes to including the sentiment in poetry. This feels like its in conversation with larger traditions and concepts, yet it flaunts simplicity. It feels like its pretending to be less than what it wants to achieve. Not depending on an in-depth examination, but not providing enough when somebody gets out of the car to examine it. It almost feels like a roadside stand whose lettering is designed to be read at speed, by people passing by so fast they have to communicate the bare minimum. Its interesting, until someone stops to examine it. Then, the flowers turned out to be painted, the emerald plastic. The design implies a latent craftsmanship to the construct, but only enough to be identified and not appreciated.

I feel like this piece needs a dash of the esoteric and weird to it. If we're in the car, then let the car boundaries bleed in: the radio, the windshield, splattered bugs, oil change sticker: something that acknowledges the vessel which the speaker is occupying. And, perhaps, add one more stanza, something to acknowledge why the speaker doesn't get out the car and look at the flowers. Is there traffic? Is there no place to pull over? Providing something to the scenario that justifies the speakers inaction to engage with their subjects on a deeper level.

What a beautiful poem. I love the way you rhymed amethyst with and twist. Very well thought out. I love the imagery of this poem.

New here so please be patient with me.

This poem takes me back to my childhood when during car rides, I would stare out at the fields, mostly vineyards but also flowers and see them almost as a blur but then I would see all of the redwing blackbirds along the highway.

I like the way you find the flowers common yet resolve to flex with the wind (life's storms?), are you comparing too common people enduring what life brings? What mankind does to itself?

I'm going to assume OP has had more interactions with said highway and its flowers than just speeding passed them. Enough to know, at least, how they, 'sway in the wind'. Enough to appreciate them.

The poem was a simple and refreshing read. It called to mind road trips I'd have as a child. I loved to look out the window and...

Upon the breeze, they sway and twist,

Yet still stand resolute,

Like a defiant field of amethyst

Even man cannot uproot.

... felt very real to me.

I especially appreciate the comparison of these purple weeds to amethyst. Both are absolutely gorgeous but also very accessible. Practical and beautiful.

Overall, this was a nice and quick read. It succeeded at being art. It made me feel. It made me reminisce. I appreciate that.

I would also like to point out that this poem was subtly inspiring.

Being, 'common', does not make us less special.

Thank you.

Ps. I think I would've used, 'assume', as opposed to, 'presume', but I do not know your vision as well as you do.

I like poems like this because they emphasize a lot of the common everyday things that are often overlooked. Every time I see Highway flowers I think of their passing beauty for just an instance until they float from my line of sight and disappear from my thoughts completely. It’s a good reminder how the common can be beautiful.

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The imagery of this poem is great. I agree that the phrase "upon the breeze" is a little unconventional - aside from that though, I think this was a great job done. Really enjoyed reading this