When I originally wrote this poem, all I had in mind was the beautiful calla lilies outside my bedroom window, and how amazingly strong they are. My dogs would trample them, the wind and rain storms would take them out, kids would saw them off, and they just kept coming back. After several rough drafts, the poem was finished and a friend read it for me before I turned it in. She noted how much she enjoyed the symbolism of it. I don’t know if subconsciously that was how I meant to write it or not, but now as I read it that’s all I see. Read in iambic pentameter and enjoy.
Not ev’ry girl has got a lily bed
at home. Of flower flutes of white and gold
to reach with strength and poise, without a shred
of flimsy petals falling from their hold.
Soft wind caresses giant leaves and stems
against her window by her bed, they dance
as one, the sway of nature’s morning gems.
She thanks the gods for giving her this trance
inducing sight. Reminding her that she
is blessed, they wake her with each morning’s light
‘til August heat. They sleep when cool winds flee,
returning with spring rains in March, a fight
with hurricane force winds and sideways rain.
But there they are, these blessed gifts, again.
at home. Of flower flutes of white and gold
to reach with strength and poise, without a shred
of flimsy petals falling from their hold.
Soft wind caresses giant leaves and stems
against her window by her bed, they dance
as one, the sway of nature’s morning gems.
She thanks the gods for giving her this trance
inducing sight. Reminding her that she
is blessed, they wake her with each morning’s light
‘til August heat. They sleep when cool winds flee,
returning with spring rains in March, a fight
with hurricane force winds and sideways rain.
But there they are, these blessed gifts, again.
