Tulips

Tulips (By A.E. Stallings) The tulips make me want to paint, Something about the way they drop Their petals on the tabletop And do not wilt so much as faint, Something about their burnt-out hearts, Something about their pallid stems Wearing decay like diadems, Parading finishes like starts, Something about the way they twist As if to catch the last applause, And drink the moment through long straws, And how, tomorrow, they’ll be missed. The way they’re somehow getting clearer, The tulips make me want to see— The tulips make the other me (The backwards one who’s in the mirror, The one who can’t tell left from right), Glance now over the wrong shoulder To watch them get a little older And give themselves up to the light. This inspirational A.E. Stallings poem illustrates everything I see in flowers, their blooms, form and structure. Taking off the colour I try to attract the attention to the character of each bloom. Wetplate collodion technique adds its artefacts which strikes true nature's imperfection.