Lilies
Oh bring me not the sighing lilies
Their sweet, cloying
Perfume of death
Their pale, quiet faces
Open mouthed in grief
Give them not to me for company
Their cold, alabaster touch
Their waxy countenances
Bringing a sad beauty
A mournful picture
Their ghostly visages
Woven
Into the landscape of despair
At home on the threshold
Between here and beyond
Symbols of loneliness
Trumpets of pain
Oh bring me not the sighing lilies
I will have no need
Of their grim condolences
For while they multiply
Slowly seek to embroider
All the earth about my resting place
A profusion of satin creams
And verdant greens
I will not be there
I will not be
Cheek to marble cheek with them
Weeping for things lost
Things undone
For I will be
Beyond the cool, damp earth
In which I lie
Far beyond
The emptiness of remembrances
So bring me not the sighing lilies
Instead the hearts of roses offer
Their warm, blushing depths
Their sensual, fragrant breath
Their velvet petals
So soft a place to rest my head
Their thorny arms to protect me
To stand between me
And undesired company
Their strength and beauty
Standing sentry
To guard my resting soul
To mark the place
Oh to walk again
Through the heady, blissful
Ancient scent
Of their profuse and varied blossoms
Oh bring me not the sighing lilies
Instead the gift of roses bring
For my soul’s delight
© Ann Bagnall 2014.
Fantastic!!!!
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Thank you so much! I wrote this after seeing lilies growing wild by the train tracks day after day, and it ended up taking me places I didn’t expect. Even to me it reads like a very old poem and I wonder how I got there from the muse!
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isn’t it wonderful when that happens…yes, it has that old feel to it and why I love it so much.
Love the intensity and how you have it flowing like a gentle breeze.
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🙂
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