Tiger Lily

Licked St Augustine breeze-
tonguing sweetly a single strand
of languid sap escaped prematurely
from the beer can at your feet.
Stillness.

Placid lake reflects
someone you cannot recognise.
Patterned stripes on innocent skin-
burned deep
Confucius confused and left
in the detritus of mud
and words spilt, spit on deaf ears.

Decay encircles,
maturing petals
harbouring sap seekers
who come to mollycoddle
in those moments of weakness.
And forget, in turn
to pay pilgrimage
to chastity
defiled.

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16 responses to “Tiger Lily

  1. Oh Shân, your “rambling” tis beautiful. My interpretation of your poem may be wrong but it’s what I get from your tumbling words. Change the beer can to wine glass, and I’ve been there. I always enjoy your unique style.

  2. That last stanza is a chiller-killer…For me, it’s the death of beauty…beauty that has been recognized but treated cavalierly…as we often do..especially with the delicate beauty of flowers. Why couldn’t I write this? Gorgeous, thought provoking, enviable stuff, here, Shan!

  3. Sounds like a lovely ode to a wayward flower – tiger lilies are my birth flower..July. (as if anything were flowering here this hot hot hot July). Hope they’re singing you sweetness in Wales!

  4. This is lovely! The last stanza is especially strong and love the idea/image of the ‘mollycoddling’ of the ‘sap seekers.’ Very cool.

Put me out of my misery people!

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