Cancer/writing Journal #106

 

My PSA level was recently checked.  Again, too low to be detectable.  

I also wrote another poem for my writing group.  Here it is:

                                             Blue Roses                 


We don’t have them but I fear they are coming.

Some ambitious horticulturalist will CRISPR snip a bit of forget-me-not

and jam it into the double helix of a rose’s DNA,

Creating a weird pretzel that nature never would have shaped.

The plant world does not do blue flowers much.

Hydrangea blue is not convincing, edging into blueland

and then retreating. leaving just a tinge.

Otherwise, the list is short;  blue bells, forget-me-nots, morning glories.

Blue bells and forget-me-nots, plenty blue but tiny little things.

Morning glories are nice and big but they don’t want to abide in the blue,

quickly degenerating in following generations 

into a pinky, pucey thing that is maybe pretty in its way

but sure ain't that glorious thing that mimics the sunlit morning sky.

Nothing wants to stay blue for very long.

A cloudless day by big water and you are in a world of blue.

The sky and the water work together into My Blue Heaven.

The clouds come in and blue vanishes.

The water and the sky leaden, becoming something

that is not at all reminiscent of heaven.

If there is beauty, it is of an altogether different sort.

What nature doesn’t want to do, man surely does.

A rose that buds blue and stays blue until the last petal falls.

A marvel but not one that ought to be.

The group received the poem with approval. A few arguments; there are more blue flowers than what I enumerated

and then someone went on line and found that there are already blue roses. Someone said that as a song title, "My

Blue Heaven" should be in quotes rather than italicized. Noted. Someone found my use of the word "ain't"

discordant. I ain't changing it. Feels right to me there.