All posts tagged: flowers

Honeysuckle Wife #DVersePoetics

Cut me off at the ankles or so you said, stood astride my stump, saw grinned. ‘Not so pretty now are we’ either of us.   Spent the winter finding my roots, you brought on your hot house girls throwing out the deadheads before they even had chance to wilt.   Spring freshened up all that toughening from too many years the same. Found new shoots moving upwards, more bend, less bark to my bite.   Summer and I redecorated it all, cloaked myself in colour, announced my presence, my survival. Dared you to try cutting me down again.  

A Garden Variety Hurt

I looked up what ivy was supposed to represent, after we called the man with the poison to clear the wooden fence panel right to the root. This creeping plant, that works its way between the cracks, and closes its fist so slowly, so quietly, that you cannot see the brickwork break, it’s supposed to represent friendship. I thought about you then, how I’d failed to see how deep you’d planted yourself until the moment that you cracked me clean in half. Like ivy, you keep coming back no matter the cold or the drought, there is no prying those tendrils loose, no poison that will make this shadow of you wither. I must live with the damage you have caused. I must somehow learn how not to crumble.  

NaPoWriMo – Day Nineteen: Orchard Blossom

Version One:   Version Two: I’m still playing catch up with NaPoWriMo so here is my response for Day Nineteen’s prompt. It’s a similar technique to found poetry but instead of using a page from a book you salvage from a second hand shop, you write your own paragraph and then turn it into a poem. If you want to see the original paragraph it’s included below. The only issue I have with this prompt is that it doesn’t have much in the way of contrast as the prose I based the poem off uses quite poetic language. Part of the uniqueness of found poetry is that you sometimes have to work quite hard for the lines. As you can see by the first piece, it would be quite easy just to add line breaks and blank out minimal amounts of the prose to create a poem out of this. That’s why I had two attempts at it. The second being more vicious with the black lines. The blossom from the plum tree has melted …


There are snowdrops growing on the hill beneath your house. I don’t think they’ve grown there before or I would have seen them. Felt their green stems bend beneath my back as we tumbled one over the other down the slopes free from winter covers at last, bathed in the chill of spring days which looked warmer than they were when the curtains first peeled back those mornings and our breath misted on the window panes.   You would have plucked them singularly with the same precision you gave to cakes on birthday celebrations, determined everyone should receive the same. My hands always tremble, when asked to thread the eye of a needle but yours would have slipped each stem between the brambles of my hair to build a crown of tiny buds, pockets of white inside the calamity that I would soon shake free.   When they ask me why I left the roof of my mouth becomes fly paper. The words stick and clot until my jaw aches from the press of things …


My mother and I, killed the first orchid we were given. We are not a houseplant sort of family. What we grow is out in a field, thrown from the back of a tractor and carefully monitored for pH, pot-ash deficit, mineral level adjustment- All to ensure optimal production when the combine finally drives through the gate. I have yet to see my mother send off soil samples, for the daffodils my grandmother planted in the garden. But then again, normally the rabbits will have them before the month is out. We killed the orchid by overwatering it, and sticking it in a window sill. We have got better with orchids since then, we have managed to keep one alive for just over a year! Related articles NaPoWriMo Day Nine ( NaPoWriMo Day Eight ( NaPoWriMo 2013- #12: She (