Eating Rose Petals
April 14th 2007 01:51
Painting by John Singer Sargent, 1885/1886
Inspired by Wendi to re-connect with my free little girl, this is a poem I wrote in 2002 when i first began 'seriously' writing. I would change so much in it now, but it's the place it takes me to that i love the most. I wrote this from a memory in our kitchen with my Mama when I was 10 years old.
Eating Rose Petals
Every single schoolgirl day, I dawdled along my street
My mind, not likely to be on the classroom, tis my journeys end
Spring brings awe and lush delight, to my little impish face
Lands of splendour awaiting, with dreams of flowers blend
Oh what a visual feast!
Especially I keep my eye, on Roses bud and bloom
Morning kissed and dew touched, each one I love them all
Unfolding beauty, exquisitely, dances to my eyes
Breathe taken now, sigh escapes, tis a shame they have to fall
My heart goes out!
But in secret places of my memories, I don’t really mind
For my sight is set on fallen petals, deliciously fleshy
Longingly I dally and bide, to gather up soft delights
When is just, the very right moment, to seize my prize of glee
Tis a tricky moment, I seize!
Dear old Mrs Davenport, of course only her roses are best
I am so very sure, she won’t miss, the spent ones least of all
They have fallen upon the verdant grass, if only but to waste
Mind made up, tippytoes high, If only there wasn’t this wall
Yet, with clumsiness I fear!
Spellbound now, I clench up quickly, clusters of petals soft
Placing them gently in my palm, being careful not to bruise
They must stay unspoiled, pure, for intended purposes yonder
Leaving curly brown sunburnt ones behind, oh they look pretty too
Am I being watched?
Running quickly, I am bound, for the kitchen of my dear home
Both hands clenched tight, I scatter them out, in utter desperation
Straight for the honey pot I head, Mmmm, won’t be very long now
I quicken the moment, for my mouth it drools, in eager anticipation
Tasty treat, begs!
Ravenous brothers, breezing in, calling me schoolyard names
Rolling their eyes, teasing me, I wish they would head south
But I don’t care as I drizzle honey, onto a single petal
I fold it gently, smile wide at them and pop it quickly in my mouth
Rapturous tastebuds celebrate!
Sweet Gods of Old, I’m in heaven again, as I look over to my Mama
She smiles at me that knowing smile, and sits with daughter funny
While early eve sun warms our table, we share odd and quirky fetish
As we feast on Mrs Davenports Roses, sweet petals dripping with honey
She really didn't mind at all!
~Lily
Every single schoolgirl day, I dawdled along my street
My mind, not likely to be on the classroom, tis my journeys end
Spring brings awe and lush delight, to my little impish face
Lands of splendour awaiting, with dreams of flowers blend
Oh what a visual feast!
Especially I keep my eye, on Roses bud and bloom
Morning kissed and dew touched, each one I love them all
Unfolding beauty, exquisitely, dances to my eyes
Breathe taken now, sigh escapes, tis a shame they have to fall
My heart goes out!
But in secret places of my memories, I don’t really mind
For my sight is set on fallen petals, deliciously fleshy
Longingly I dally and bide, to gather up soft delights
When is just, the very right moment, to seize my prize of glee
Tis a tricky moment, I seize!
Dear old Mrs Davenport, of course only her roses are best
I am so very sure, she won’t miss, the spent ones least of all
They have fallen upon the verdant grass, if only but to waste
Mind made up, tippytoes high, If only there wasn’t this wall
Yet, with clumsiness I fear!
Spellbound now, I clench up quickly, clusters of petals soft
Placing them gently in my palm, being careful not to bruise
They must stay unspoiled, pure, for intended purposes yonder
Leaving curly brown sunburnt ones behind, oh they look pretty too
Am I being watched?
Running quickly, I am bound, for the kitchen of my dear home
Both hands clenched tight, I scatter them out, in utter desperation
Straight for the honey pot I head, Mmmm, won’t be very long now
I quicken the moment, for my mouth it drools, in eager anticipation
Tasty treat, begs!
Ravenous brothers, breezing in, calling me schoolyard names
Rolling their eyes, teasing me, I wish they would head south
But I don’t care as I drizzle honey, onto a single petal
I fold it gently, smile wide at them and pop it quickly in my mouth
Rapturous tastebuds celebrate!
Sweet Gods of Old, I’m in heaven again, as I look over to my Mama
She smiles at me that knowing smile, and sits with daughter funny
While early eve sun warms our table, we share odd and quirky fetish
As we feast on Mrs Davenports Roses, sweet petals dripping with honey
She really didn't mind at all!
~Lily
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Comment by Wendi
Faeries alive! This is.... this is.... (oh, come on, brain, kick it out already!).... such a fantastic wonderland of words and visions! I'm hopping up and down, doing cartwheels... this is so electrifyingly brilliant!
Oh! Oh! OOOHHH! YES!
How can I pick just one line? Just one stanza? Just one thing I like best? Frigging forget about it... wrap the whole thing up and call it diamonds... this is a jewel!
This should SOOO be in hardback with beautiful pastel illustrations and passed around for girlish-delights world-wide!!!
Holy hot dogs, bat man.... (of the vegeatarian variety)
I'm blown away!
Blown away!
May I? May I print it? May I read it to my daughter? May I share it with my mother?
Good grief, gurl.... you can write!!!!!
Glittery goosebumps,
W
Comment by katyzzz
Photography Tips
MS Paint Art
You're a poetic genius, and from one so young.
katyzzz
Comment by Lily
Ars Poetica
~Lily
Comment by DuskDevi
Rugby World Cup 2007
It's lovely to see you Reine ~Lily l'amour...
And I just love the title of this.
...much warmth...
Dusk
Comment by Lilla
From The Home Front
Enviro Warrior
Dream Herald
Esoteric Bookshop
As beautiful as every petal gathered and eaten ... a real treat for a poets heart.
Lilla ...
Comment by David
Australia has only one Nobel Laureate (Patrick White) ... For good reason ... His writing is mind-arresting ... true literature ...
My favourite work of his is 'The Solid Mandala' ... You could slot this whole poem into that book and no-one would know he didn't write it ... It's that good ...
My favourite line is:
To me it's all about the 'voice' ...
David ...
Comment by Lily
Ars Poetica
your comment?
blew me away
upon a magic carpet
through the full clouds
and out again
beyond the stars
past the comets
to that space
where one just feels...
um
warmly fuzzified..
thank you so much
smiles at you..
Just in looking at this picture again, i'm wondering what they are doing with these pots that look like lanterns? .. in my mind they have a petal on those sticks and are dipping them in honey, with the lilies watching close by.. but that's my own interpretation. I wish i knew. A friend of mine (Hi Sasha .. smiles) said she thought they look like they are looking for fairies, like in the movie 'The Fairy Tale'. Now there's another great movie i'm yet to see. I think it's time.
love and magic carpets,
~Lily
Comment by Lily
Ars Poetica
that's a lovely thing to say.. smiles
i aint no genius though, merely a little girl with a big voice, wanting to be heard...
i love it that you think i'm young.. i wish i had started writing years before i did, ah but so it goes... big thank yous ..
~Lily
Comment by Lily
Ars Poetica
Merci mon ami, toujours beau pour vous voir....
chaudement pétalé par votre visitation,
~Reine Lily
Comment by Lily
Ars Poetica
as every petal gathered
and eaten
So gooood to 'see' you ((((( L i l l a )))))
hope all is bright on your side of the garden...
thank you muchly for your eyes upon my childhood treat...
~Lily
Comment by Lily
Ars Poetica
Shame on me for not having read Patrick White.. i'm hanging my head low.. i will have to remedy that as I didn't know who our Laureate was... cringing here.. Consider 'The Solid Mandala' googled, and thanks for the lowdown...
A big compliment i'm not sure i can accept, but moreso, coming from you, someone whose work i admire very much, I am honoured.. thank you heeeeaps...
The voice of Mrs Davenport?.. well she was actually an elderly neighbour who had a loquat tree that hung over into our yard, there was hundreds of them and yet she complained we were eating them as they fell on our side of the fence, she wanted them all. May i never be a Mrs Davenport. Strange how i honoured the old biddy in this poem... smiles...
just an aside thing.. i thought of this today; 'it's not like it has a soul or anything'
~Lily (K)
Comment by David
Patrick White's writing will blow you away ...
You can't read his books like an airport novel .... (Sometimes one of his sentences will leave you so spellbound you can't go on ... you just shift into contemplative mode ...
The Solid Mandala is just ...
well it just is what it is ...
And I wouldn't dish out a compliment about your writing like that if I didn't mean it ...
Just keep writing ...
David ...
Comment by Lily
Ars Poetica
something like this perhaps?
"I would like to believe in the myth that we grow wiser with age. In a sense my disbelief is wisdom. Those of a middle generation, if charitable or sentimental, subscribe to the wisdom myth, while the callous see us as dispensable objects, like broken furniture or dead flowers. For the young we scarcely exist unless we are unavoidable members of the same family, farting, slobbering, perpetually mislaying teeth and bifocals." (from Three Uneasy Pieces, 1987)
that is priceless!! .. his work is proving hard to find on the net.. but i will endure the quest...
am starting to write again, feels good
oh and thanks again...
~Lily
Comment by Kleonaptra
Kalikapsychosis
As I write poetry, which I have always had a love/hate relationship with, inspired by my fellow orblers, I assume, that too many words of beauty, and too much construction of imagery, will only dog me down into writing drivel, and meaninglessness....
You have proved me wrong, by seducing beauty and image into delicate prose....
Humbled me, under the words of a master....
Never stop.
Comment by Lily
Ars Poetica
You know, drivel and meaninglessness needn't be a problem when it comes to poetry. So many don't write it because they think they will sound dumb or compare themselves to others (i know i did and do), but now i write in the face of that, because I need to write. That will never stop.
Tthe beauty of poetry is you can write what ever the fuck you want... in your very own unique voice... poetry connects people and speaks to the heart, that oft neglected and war-ravaged field. Yes there is good and bad poetry, but that comes down to the reader's preference.
I hope that made sense. I know this poem is image laden; but as i say; senses alive !!
Btw i don't usually write rhyme, and if i do, it was an accident .. freefaller all the way baby...
thank you so much for sharing Kleo, i am humbled by your comment...
~Lily
Comment by Kleonaptra
Kalikapsychosis
Comment by Lily
Ars Poetica
as i learn from you too Kleo..
~Lily