We step out to see the poppies
peeled their pods, felted raincoats
flopping flays of raw orange-red;
they will never stay dry again.

If they knew it was the last time
landing limp-faced on the wet grass,
would they undress this fast?

About janehewey

https://janehewey.wordpress.com/ View all posts by janehewey

9 responses to “Poppied

  • ManicDdaily

    And you haven’t saved the poor dears! I kept reading this as poppy-ed and then switched to popp-eyed–and both are so very charming, but I expect it is the latter that was intended. This is such a sweet poem, and perfect both for poppies and the northwest. It is very vivid and sweet, and a wonderfully quiet/sly metaphor too; I am smiling. k.

  • Victoria C. Slotto

    Enjoyed the personifications and, as usual, the details you paint with words.

  • hedgewitch

    This is as descriptive as a photo, Jane, but as interpretive as a painting–I have seen them flop like that, that helpless frailty, too soft to stand a raindrop–yet the next day, they’re all back in their clothes–the feeling of intimacy, and also a bit of voyeurism I think, for seeing the weak moment, comes across perfectly(or it does for me, anyway–you may have meant something totally different.;_) Spring is just as cruel as it is kind.

  • brian miller

    maybe they do know and are embracing those last days in the beauty that they have you know…..smiles….one last time….smiles…
    ha and yes, i feel a bit like a vouyer

  • Mark Kerstetter

    The boldness of flowers is always shocking and the fleetingness of their beauty a heartbreak. But it’s such an intense beauty; it’s no wonder we use them to mark so many occasions.

  • Anna Mark

    I have been enjoying your poems, your images. I don’t have the time at the moment to comment in depth, but it is good to read here!

  • claudia

    ha – mad flowers or brave flowers – i would think they’re brave…head over heals without thinking too much about the consequences… sometimes that’s the way how to live life… smiles

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