Vase
of gerberas
after Alice Oswald’s book of poems
Weeds and Wild Flowers
(with etchings by Jessica Greenman)
Don’t be fooled by our apparent cheer.
Underneath these blocks of colour
we are acid. We don’t like to live
so close together; each one of us
vain. We hate that you think we all look
the same. Whenever one of our number
bends at the stem, her head too heavy
for that slender green wand to hold
any longer, those of us remaining
avert our faces from what is weak
and defeated. We want you
to take the bitch away.
© Lisa Brockwell, 2016.
You have really captured something about gerberas, Lisa!:) I can actually feel trying to settle them in a vase in my fingers, how they roll, the feel of the stems. Shiver.
ReplyDeleteAbout gerberas, I thought it was about staff at first, had to rtread the title!
ReplyDeleteI like this 'acid' view of them! :-)
ReplyDeletelol wonderful poem and observations, Lisa - my favourites are the heirloom gerberas which have been growing in my parent's garden for over ninety years!
ReplyDeleteOh Efi, that is wonderful about the heirloom gerberas, old plants move me so. At my childhood home we had an azalea, called Pa-sie's (Pa - Pasie - as in Grandpa) azalea, and it was ancient, it meant a lot because I never met him, and it had lovely deep pink flowers.
ReplyDeleteOld azaleas are just amazing, Sarah. Some plants seem downright immortal, and yes, they are moving, aren't they...
ReplyDeleteThank you for the comments. It's lovely to be part of this blog.
ReplyDelete