It is the season of drifting
scents, honeysuckle morphine
in the dark and the ether
of phlox and stocks.
Outside, the first summer
roses fade. He wants to take
secateurs, deadhead delicate
corpses, but cannot bear
to touch petals the colour
of bruised skin or inhale
the cloying breath of flowers
like the ones in her sick room.
Kim M. Russell, 19th June 2018
My response to dVerse Poets Pub Poetics: Medicine, also linked to Imaginary Garden with Real Toads Tuesday Platform
Paul the Scribbler is looking after the bar today; he tells us that he recently completed training in Music Medicine, which is based on a medicine wheel, and asks us to bring him some poetic medicine.
writing in north norfolk 
Nice description of his experience of her sick room: “cannot bear
to touch petals the colour
of bruised skin”
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Frank.
LikeLiked by 1 person
“honeysuckle morphine” is an interesting concept. I really liked this, and admire the unexpected closing lines.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Sherry.
LikeLike
Fantastically evocative read Kim. I love the delicate sense offered with regards to dead-heading and the sick room. Wonderful stuff.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Paul. Flowers and medicine kind of go together.
LikeLike
This is STUNNING. I am smitten with the phrase “honeysuckle morphine.”
This makes me think of a son not wanting/willing to be near his elderly/dying mother.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for reading and commenting with such understanding.
LikeLike
My goodness I literally held my breath through “but cannot bear to touch petals the colour of bruised skin”… so unbelievably powerful, Kim!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Sanaa!
LikeLike
Packed with poetic truth, brevity and sentiment; really enjoyed it. I have haunted too many sick rooms and hospitals over the years. You become smitten with your own mortality, and renegade germs.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Glenn.
LikeLike
“honeysuckle morphine” — wonderful!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Jo.
LikeLike
I know this…
Every innocent word action colour or scent takes on a new meaning. cuts to the core…
Vivid apt and strangely beautiful Kim.
Anna :o]
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Anna. 😊
LikeLike
dead head delicate corpses… too much like reality… Very good Kim.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Dwight.
LikeLiked by 1 person
All in flowering terms, it reads so fragrantly. I had to pause and later for a think session about “honeysuckle morphine.” I’m thinking pain killers, could they somehow be flavored with honeysuckle scent by the sorrowful husband? We don’t deadhead our roses either, for different reasons, there are way too many blooms for that. For the man’s sake I hope the lady has a ‘speedy recovery. ”
..
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Jim!
LikeLike
deadhead delicate
corpses, but cannot bear
to touch petals the colour
of bruised skin or inhale
the cloying breath of flowers
like the ones in her sick room.
This is just beautiful. What imagery!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Sascha!
LikeLike
Next time someone asks me why I dislike cut flowers, I will send them a link to this poem… There is something about cut flowers that, to me, always bring the thought of sick rooms and funerals.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m not keen on cut flowers either.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Flowers always cheer us up!
LikeLiked by 1 person
This says so much! Such fragile emotions like fragile blooms. Tender and sad.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Mary.
LikeLike
Oh wow, Kim. the emotion in this is palpable.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Kerry!
LikeLike
This evokes sad but sweet memories for me. I guess we have to take the butter with the sweet in this life. Well penned.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Viv.
LikeLiked by 1 person
🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Some powerful and beautiful imagery in this amazing poem Kim! Sad and utterly lovely!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much, Carrie!
LikeLike
Fascinating analogy to the flowers and reaping the flowers.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Sabio.
LikeLike
So rich in sound. I love “phlox and stocks” and “deadhead delicate corpses”. This is a treat read aloud and I like the reveal of the man’s true feelings in this poem.
I am on the same page regarding cut flowers. Rather see them in an open field. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Mish! 🙂
LikeLike
Very evocative…not tweeted because it seems likely to be too close to home for too many of my Tweeps. One’s mother is dying, another’s partner is dying, another has Stage 4 cancer herself…
I need some younger, healthier e-friends.
But this is a good free verse poem.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much for reading and commenting.
LikeLike
Brilliant, and breathtaking, imagery, Kim!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Frank!
LikeLiked by 1 person
😇
LikeLiked by 1 person