Wood Anemones

Gold cherry

By onemorething

Sat, 26 Oct 2019
  • 5095 reads
17 comments
 

I wore green velvet to my wedding,

my bouquet, a grip of wood anemones; 

delicate white and yellow flowers to festoon

my uncertainty, they paled 

in my clammy palms.

One man for me to escape sat beside me 

in the car, asked if I was sure,

gave me a necklace for luck

and compliance. I felt the thick twist

of its chain tighten to choke me. 

One newly acquired relative called me a coltish princess - 

even in dogged denial of this insult

I still reared up and bolted a few years later.

But these anemones - their fragility does not survive

the surge of Summer's warmth, they wither

in the recession of cooler shades.

And in a wish to not be forgotten, I, unanchored,

am sometimes adrift in a memory,

my feet rooted in this cold water,

their dark fibres searching downward

for the relief of more solid ground.

Some of the reminders have been lost:

the necklace,

my careful pressings,

but when I think about this I remember

the wood anemones 

and how their spread of promises

had not been broken yet.

Certificate PG
Poem
Unclassified

Comments

Submitted by rjnewlyn on

This is our Facebook and Twitter Pick of the Day! Please share/retweet if you like it

 

Submitted by onemorething on

Oh, that's very lovely, thank you for the golden cherries. 

 

Submitted by Starfish Girl on

One to come back to. Much hidden within it.

Submitted by onemorething on

Thanks for taking the time to read it and for your comment, a great compliment if someone returns to read it again. :)

 

Submitted by onemorething on

Sorry about this accidental comment...I can't seem to delete it! 

 

Submitted by Mark Burrow on

Enjoyed this -- lyrical and strangely fierce at the same time.  

 

Submitted by onemorething on

I think that happened without me thinking about it in this one as the memory I was referencing include a person I felt anger towards and a couple of people who I did not. Glad it comes across like that though. Thanks for your comment. :)

 

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

wistful and a bit wild - some wonderful lines in this. Congratualtions on the pick - so pleased you're still writing!

 

Submitted by onemorething on

Thank you! I like the idea of it being bit wild. Yes, still writing away! :)

 

Submitted by Di_Hard on

I like the contrast between the heavy solidity of a necklace/collar, and the fragility of  wildflowers, which never the less can grow and increase, whereas a metal necklace can at best only stay the same. I love the line "spread of promises"! And wood anemones must be tough surviving in quite shadey places, where they look like escaped moonlight

 

Submitted by onemorething on

I hadn't thought about that contrast. You produce such beautiful imagery, Di, escaped moonlight is lovely! Thanks for your poetic thoughts. :)

 

Submitted by seafret on

An almost medieval feel. Very beautiful.

Submitted by onemorething on

Perhaps it's the combination of the dress and the flowers that give it that? I was not a typical bride, I did not want white and I wanted wildflowers, actually it was a combination of primroses and wood anemones in my bouquet. Thanks very much for reading and your lovely comment. :)

 

Submitted by luigi_pagano on

I detect in this poem the sadness of an unhappy relationship which promised much but whose fragility is represented by the ephemeral life of the wild flowers in the bride's bouquet.
These anemones will wither and die like the marriage entered into despite serious doubts.
The author hints at the outcome by telling how, having been described as a 'coltish princess', she later rears up and bolts.
Unlike the relationship the memory survives.

This classy write has been deservedly chosen as a Pick of the Day.
Well done.yes

Best, Luigi

 

Submitted by onemorething on

Hi Luigi,

Well, I was unhappy, he was a lovely man, I was just too young to be married and grow up in it, coltish as I was! We wanted different things in the end. In that sense, rather cliched. My memories are not sad though even though it ended. I liked your analysis of it and glad that my withered anemones / withered relationship analogy came across. Thanks very much for your very kind comment. 
:)

 

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on

You describe a wild child in those first five lines which I adore. That feeling of wanting...yet needing freedom to be you and not what others expect. Having those little reminders at the end of your poem, so as to not give up hope, but like the wood anemones, it's hard to hold on, but they do.

As always onemorething, a thoughtful read.

Jenny. 

 

 

Submitted by onemorething on

Ha. I was a little wild at the time. I'm a very serious grownup now though who makes far more sensible decisions (ahem...). Thanks for your comment, Jenny, I think seasonal things lend themselves well to a sense of hope, don't they, in their leaving and returning. :)