{"id":3550,"date":"2021-09-30T08:07:38","date_gmt":"2021-09-30T12:07:38","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/?p=3550"},"modified":"2021-09-30T08:07:40","modified_gmt":"2021-09-30T12:07:40","slug":"a-poem-for-a-thursday-149","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/2021\/09\/30\/a-poem-for-a-thursday-149\/","title":{"rendered":"A Poem for a Thursday #149"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\"><figure class=\"aligncenter size-large\"><img decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/priscilla-du-preez-V6dMLm315Yo-unsplash-1024x683.jpg\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-3551\"\/><figcaption>Photo by <a href=\"https:\/\/unsplash.com\/@priscilladupreez?utm_source=unsplash&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_content=creditCopyText\">Priscilla Du Preez<\/a> on <a href=\"https:\/\/unsplash.com\/s\/photos\/bowl-of-apples?utm_source=unsplash&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_content=creditCopyText\">Unsplash<\/a><\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n<div style=\"height:50px\" aria-hidden=\"true\" class=\"wp-block-spacer\"><\/div>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Linda Pastan is an American poet who was the Poet Laureate of Maryland from 1991-1995. She is known for writing poems that are about family life, loss, the female experience, and the temporary nature of the human experience. I featured another of her poems <a href=\"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/2019\/12\/05\/a-poem-for-thursday-60\/\">here<\/a>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<div style=\"height:50px\" aria-hidden=\"true\" class=\"wp-block-spacer\"><\/div>\n\n\n\n<pre class=\"wp-block-verse\"><em>A painter can say all he wants to with fruit or flowers or even clouds.  \u00c9douard Manet<\/em>\n\nWhen I pass you this bowl\nof Winesaps, do I want to say:\nhere are some rosy spheres\nof love, or lust--emblems\nof all those moments after Eden\nwhen a pinch of the forbidden\nwas like spice on that first apple?\nOr do I simply mean: I'm sorry,\nI was busy today: fruit is all\nthere is for dessert.\n\nAnd when you picked \na single bloom from the fading bush\noutside our window,\nwere you saying that I am somehow\nlike a flower, or deserving of flowers?\nWere you saying\nanything flowery at all?\nOr simply: here is the last rose\nof November, please\nput it in water\n\nBut as for clouds,\nas for those white, voluptuous\ncummuli floating overhead,\nthey are not camels or pillows\nor even the snowy peaks \nof half-imagined mountains.\nThey are the pure shapes of silence,\nand for now, yes.\nThe clouds are saying \nall I want to say.\n\nAll I Want to Say\nLinda Pastan<\/pre>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Linda Pastan is an American poet who was the Poet Laureate of Maryland from 1991-1995. She is known for writing poems that are about family life, loss, the female experience, and the temporary nature of the human experience. I featured another of her poems here. A painter can say all he wants to with fruit or flowers or even clouds. \u00c9douard Manet When I pass you this bowl of Winesaps, do I want to say: here are some rosy spheres of love, or lust&#8211;emblems of all those moments after Eden when a pinch of the forbidden was like spice on that first apple? Or do I simply mean: I&#8217;m sorry, I was busy today: fruit is all there is for dessert. And when you picked a single bloom from the fading bush outside our window, were you saying that I am somehow like a flower, or deserving of flowers? Were you saying anything flowery at all? Or simply: here is the last rose of November, please put it in water But as for clouds, as for those white, voluptuous cummuli floating overhead, they are not camels or pillows or even the snowy peaks of half-imagined mountains. They are the pure shapes of silence, and for now, yes. The clouds are saying all I want to say. All I Want to Say Linda Pastan<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":3551,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3550","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poem-for-a-thursday"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3550","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3550"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3550\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3553,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3550\/revisions\/3553"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/3551"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3550"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3550"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3550"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}