Survivor
Posted: 27 April 2007
Word Count: 99
Related Works: A Day`s Work •
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Survivor
Over the young growth of dandelions,
buttercups, all that caste of plants,
I poured strong poison, half
as strong again as recommended;
into cracks full of furry moss,
among delicate grass that, had it grown
elsewhere, would have been pandered to
with fortifying stuff, and cut like hair.
Within three dry days aspiring shoots
became the colour of sand, and fell to ground.
But this morning, very early, in the centre
of a dead star of grey-brown, brittle leaves,
it was there: a single dandelion flower,
a sunburst after night rain,
pretty as a day-lily,
noble as helianthus.
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Comments by other Members
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 Elsie at 10:38 on 28 April 2007
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James, have you been in my little garden? This is so true of our constant battles with nature. A weed is only a flower in the wrong place, isn't it? This bit
poured strong poison, half
as strong again as recommended;
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sounds like using excessive violence against an intruder! The last stanza is touching, and ironic - the pretty and noble flower - surviving the attack from callous, murderous James!
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 James Graham at 15:15 on 28 April 2007
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Thanks, Elsie. It was chemical warfare. But since that miracle dandelion appeared, I've softened enough to leave a clump of dandelions growing in another corner of the garden. Glad you liked the ending. I think helianthus is sunflower as in Van Gogh - which is as noble as it gets.
James.
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 joanie at 13:54 on 29 April 2007
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James this is achingly lovely, somehow! I love the form - the couplets - and the contrast of would have been pandered to
with fortifying stuff, and cut like hair. |
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The opening:Survivor
Over the young growth of dandelions,
buttercups, all that caste of plants,
I poured strong poison |
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sets the scene and draws the reader right in.
I agree that the ending is excellent.
You paint a very real picture here; I could see it all!
I'm so glad you've allowed a cluster to flourish, but don't let them talk you into giving them free rein again!!
I enjoyed this very much.
joanie
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 peardrops at 18:08 on 29 April 2007
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I loved the easy conversational tone of this beautifully observed little piece-but especially enjoyed the last part from
"But this morning, very early ,in the centre
of a dead star of grey -brown, brittle leaves,
it was there: a single dandelion flower,
a sunburst after night rain,....
the dead star of leaves and the brilliant sunburst of the golden dandelion are such beautiful images for sush a common everyday subject-perfect!
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Swoo at 21:52 on 30 April 2007
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Hello James
I haven't posted on here for a long time, but I read these boards religiously. This poem has done something for me, finally.
I guess that of course we all have our own interpretations of someone's work, whether it's music, or art, or dance, or poems. Doesn't mean that in the great scheme of things anything's finitely good, or boring, or world class or downright pretentious rubbish - if it gets you in the gut, then it has worked, and the incredible psychic thing that is effort and thought has worked.
James, this poem has shaken me and brought tears. Maybe that was your intention, maybe not. I'd like to say it's a pleasant experience - it isn't. But it's good, if that makes sense.
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Jordan789 at 22:19 on 30 April 2007
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James,
I always admire poems that focus on the ordinary and every day occurances and happenings. The poems that make you realize that all of this stuff, everything going on, is worth paying attention to. This poem certainly exemplifies the common place with beautiful images and fortifies a lovely idea that weeds can be beautiful, and a pain to destroy.
I like how the speaker is hesitant to use a full-dose of poison, as if he is unsure of whether he really wishes the plants gone.
I am unsure about that semi-colon use, and I wonder if it should be a comma? I never really fully understood semi-colons in the first place.
Other than that, I sort of wish that more of a progression was kept track of, so that the battle to destroy, and the ultimate return seems slightly more epic. Perhaps it's a silly idea, but I really like the idea of making this out to be some great stage of war. Man vs. the weeds. With the weed showing it's pretty head of triumph at the end. To this regard, I don't think it should be a 30 page poem, but perhaps one section showing the day before the weed returns(when man is still triumphed) perhaps exhultantly walking past it, even stepping on the brown carcasses, before returning the next day to see the return!
This poem reminds me of the starwars trilogy.
-Jordan
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Jordan789 at 04:09 on 03 May 2007
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I also like how the word "again" is in there at the start, showing us right from the bat the inevitable end. I didn't pick up on that in my earlier reading.
Another couple comments: to strengthen the middle section, which I think needs to be done to keep on par with the lovely beginning and the completely awesome shining sun greek god ending, I want two very simple changes. Substitute strong verbs for bland ones in: Within three dry days aspiring shoots
became the colour of sand, and fell to ground.
"became" eh. What about "wilt"? The word fall also seems almost too much. While it almost carries on the image of the triumphant return, and this debacle being more than one average joe's plight with the garden, it seems a lot for a gradual lowering, the way plants die, and the four to eight inches(what's that equal, 400cm?) of a dandelion could hardly afford a "fall."
That is all.
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joolsk at 13:00 on 03 May 2007
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Hi James,
I thoroughly enjoyed this and especially loved the lyrical quality of the last six lines against the rest of the poem.
Only bit of feedback... when I read this aloud I tripped a little over the arrangement of words in the second couplet especially half
as strong again as recommended; |
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which I felt lacked the rhythm of the other lines.
Just a tiny thought.
Jools
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James Graham at 19:11 on 03 May 2007
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Jordan, thanks for your two comments. I agree that one of the good things a poem can do is focus on ordinary stuff, and hopefully make it seem, as you say, ‘worth paying attention to’.
There’s a language difficulty with ‘half as strong again’ which I realise must be an idiom in British English - to me ‘half as strong again as recommended’ means 50% stronger than it says on the package. So the poem’s speaker is actually doing ‘overkill’ rather than half-wishing the weeds won't die.
Even so, I seriously thought about changing those lines to
I poured strong poison (only
half as strong as recommended) |
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but I feel that if the gardener is murderous enough to use weed-killer ‘half as strong again’ it makes the survival of the lone dandelion more impressive.
‘Became’ possibly is weak, but so far I can’t see an easy way to alter it. ‘Were sapped (drained of life) to the colour of sand’ is the best I can come up with. ‘Bleached’ is a cliché, as in bleached bones. ‘Drained to the colour of sand’. There might be an alternative. ‘Fell to ground’, though, I’m quite happy with - whether it’s a dandelion or a six-foot sunflower, when it’s dead it falls.
On misunderstandings: I once posted a poem on an American website (Eratosphere, you may have come across it). The poem was partly a description of a piece of waste ground (a vacant lot) at the back of a supermarket, and the objects there included a ‘capsized trolley’. Someone commented: ‘How did a streetcar end up capsized in a supermarket backyard?’ But the poem was in British English, and the trolley wasn’t a streetcar but a shopping cart.
James.
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James Graham at 19:43 on 03 May 2007
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Swoo, thank you for your comment. I didn't imagine the poem could have so strong an impact. But it is about destroying living things, after all. On reflection I think the poem reflects a rather cavalier attitude on my part towards killing either plants or animals. I'm not an organic gardener, or a vegetarian. In those aspects I realise the poem might be more shocking to some readers than it is to me. I don't know if that's the aspect that made it not entirely a pleasant experience for you. It's good that it 'worked'; but I was surprised to think it might be less innocuous than it seems... might be potentially a bit of a bombshell!
Joanie, peardrops, and Jools, many thanks. Glad you enjoyed the poem. Jools, rhythm's a funny thing. It seemed ok to me in these lines, but listening to it again it seems actually too dum-de-dum.
| half/ as strong again as recommended. |
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Other lines in the poem aren't like that. Maybe if I try hard enough I could justify the dum-de-dum as reflecting the speaker's dogged determination to get rid of the weeds whatever it takes!
James.
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Jordan789 at 16:01 on 07 May 2007
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James,
The meaning of that phrase certainly changes my original reading of those few lines. I wondered about those lines for a while. And I would like to know more about that phrase because half as strong, to me, means half of a dose, but adding "again" does change things.
‘How did a streetcar end up capsized in a supermarket backyard?’
haha. I'd have thought the same thing.
-Jordan
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Swoo at 00:16 on 12 May 2007
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Hi James
I keep coming back to this poem, and it continues to have the same effect. A piece of writing which has the narrator make explicit his thoughtful, deliberate, chosen killing. And yet. And yet. Guess what? A little shoot of life will push through, somehow.
The metaphors for this may be numerous, but the very personal one that touches me is terminal illness. Cheery stuff!
The title says it all - Survivor. There are so may ways any person can take that word and say yes, I know what survival is like.
The narrator sounds astonished that something as insignificant, in his world, as a dandelion, could withstand his deliberate poisoning. But the narrator is actually the insignificant one. The poem is about persistence. The joy of the natural surviving the poison. The dandelion will always push through, will always be the survivor.
This is particularly lovely
But this morning, very early, in the centre
of a dead star of grey-brown, brittle leaves,
it was there: a single dandelion flower,
a sunburst after night rain,
pretty as a day-lily,
noble as helianthus.
That's how poetry works, isn't it?
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James Graham at 22:54 on 13 May 2007
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Swoo, your response to this poem has been really interesting. When I wrote it I saw it as quite light, not very serious; but now I can see it in a different perspective. The destruction of life is always a very serious matter. Here some plants are destroyed - plants which we presume to call 'weeds', but which in another, more natural environment are simply wild flowers.
But I can see also that the poisoning of the weeds could be taken as representative of the wilful destruction of life generally - including human life. The surviving dandelion could be an emblem of those who survive mass killings.
Having said that, I have to say I never thought of the poem as having that level of meaning. It was wonderful to see that single flower among all the dead ones, but broader and deeper meanings didn't really occur to me. Poems do sometimes have a life of their own, though!
James.
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