Blood red blooms line dusty country lanes,
they dot the village verge, and a meadow
explodes into a rippling scarlet sea.
Here and there blow pale pink blooms,
their blushes fading in the sun,
papery ghosts haunting tired fields.
Dog day heat has scorched the brittle fields,
the only shade is found in leafy lanes,
even cows seek respite from the sun.
Yet butterflies flutter in the meadow,
colourful and delicate as poppy blooms,
navigating a wind-tossed grassy sea.
Returning from adventures on the high sea,
a sailor strides home across fields
scented with August poppies and other blooms.
Sweethearts stroll hand in hand in country lanes
and children hide in tall grass in the meadow,
their faces golden from the sun.
The punishing face of the August sun
does not distinguish between lake and sea,
juvenile stream and broad river, meadow
and ripened crop-filled fields.
It finds every pebble in the lanes,
each spot of mildew in fading wild rose blooms.
A scarlet poppy like a wound blooms
in the ditch beside the road; the thirsty sun
has drunk the earth dry. All along the lanes,
trees susurrate like the sea,
competing with brittle fields
and overgrown summer meadows.
Insects tick and chatter in the meadows,
accompany the gentle pulse of vibrant blooms,
while in the thirstily rasping fields
hardened soil cracks in the sun.
Tanned bodies seek solace in the sea
or haunt the cool shadows in country lanes.
Crimson-spattered meadows dry in the sun,
a flock of frazzled blooms on a rusting sea,
and blushing fields fade to daisies in the lanes.
Kim M, Russell, 15th August 2019
My response to dVerse Poets Pub Poetry Form: Sestina, also linked to Poets United Poetry Pantry
This Thursday Victoria is our host as we take off to the south of France, the land of complex poetry, and back in time to the 12th century, and the sestina. She tells us that the form is thought to have been developed by the troubadour Arnault Daniel, who would have set his verse to music since the theme was often focused on love.
Victoria says that the sestina is quite complex, with strict requirements, based on the repetition of six words which follow a given pattern of repetition as the end words of each line. It consists of six stanzas, each with six lines and concludes with a three-line envoi. Tricky!
writing in north norfolk 
I love the allusion to battlefields with those poppies, still you have painted a scenery that to me seems very much like the last heat of summer. The people you fill it with makes me think of a film or a song…
Actually this is a song that came to mind.
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Thank you, Bjorn, and thank you for the song link! I like Paul Simon and that was a song I haven’t heard before. One Paul Simon song I love very much is ‘Renee and Georgette Magritte with their dog after the war’. There are plenty of others. 🙂
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Oh Kim….you had me as soon as you wrote the word Poppies in the title. I LOVE poppies…they asre such a burst of color! And you’ve described them…and this beautiful nature scene…so very well.
“Here and there blow pale pink blooms,
their blushes fading in the sun,
papery ghosts haunting tired fields.”
I especially love the words above…..but soooo many words are absolutely delectable in this write.
I love the sound imagery as well….and the sailor, sweethearts, and children too. I’ve taken a beautiful walk with you here. So very very well done!
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Now I’m blushing, Lill!
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Absolutely brilliant!
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I felt like I was on a picnic in that gorgeous poppy field. It made me think of impressionism, and, like Bjorn, the battlefields. You used the form to its advantage with a perfect choice of words. I love poppies.
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Thank you, Victoria. I’m flattered that my poem made you think of impressionism,
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I love all the references to the heat, the poppies, the summer sun, the insects. This is a profusion of sights and sounds for the senses, perfectly capturing a summer meadow. Truly wonderful Kim.
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Thank you so much, Linda. Autumn has already shown its face here, so I hope the heat in the poem will extend into the rest of the day. 🙂
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Such a gorgeous field of flowers and poppies. I felt like I was walking inside an enchanted garden inside of a meadow rippling a scarlet sea.
I specially love this part:
A scarlet poppy like a wound blooms
in the ditch beside the road; the thirsty sun
has drunk the earth dry.
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Thank you, Grace. We still have plenty of poppies around here, but sadly they are fading. We have an autumnal chill this morning.
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Kim I love how your finger on the pulse of the poppies in the blazing sun until the end, where “the blushing field fades to daisies”. Your poem is exquisite and a joy to read.
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Thank you so much, Jade. Poppies were my mother’s favourite flower and I love them too.
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You are very welcome and you are also very skilled at this form. What a beautiful thing to share a love of and keep as a reminder of your mother.
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So very beautiful Kim!
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Many thanks, Rob!
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Beautiful words! I wish to be among the poppies!
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Thank you so much, Astrid!
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Like so many others, you hooked me with /papery ghosts haunting tired fields/, and your fifth stanza is killer. I’m proud of all of us who’ve tackled this form challenge. Adversity leads to broadening horizons and tweaks on our personal styles. With the next sestina, perhaps joy will insert itself, as it did in yours.
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Oh the scarlet fields sound wonderful! This is a tough form, never tried it, but it sounds like the canzone which was brutal in its rigid form as well!
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Thank you, Rajani. It is a tough form and I’m not sure whether I’ll manage another one next week.
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I love how you embrace nature in this poem – it’s a real song of wonder
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Thank you, Jae.
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you wrote this poem so well i love it. the third stanza did it for me!
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Thank you so much!
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A scene so beautifully drawn, i could see the poppies, feel the heat, hear the insects, experience the torpor of late-summer heat. You executed the form so well. It sounds complicated.
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Thank you, Sherry. It is complicated and your comment makes it all worth it. 😉
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Such a burst of colour and emotion in this, Kim! ❤ Especially like; “The punishing face of the August sun
does not distinguish between lake and sea, juvenile stream and broad river, meadow and ripened crop-filled fields. It finds every pebble in the lanes, each spot of mildew in fading wild rose blooms.” 😊
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Thank you so much, Sanaa. xx
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I love the juxtaposition of the soft beauty of poppies, children, love and the harsh, punishing heat from the sun. It’s all true. All part of the wondrous picture you have painted. Embrace one, embrace all. So well done.
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Thank you so much!
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The repetition, rhythm and tone give this poem an extra hint of haunting. It feels like traveling and country and seeing familiar glimpses on different peoples and places. The closing envoi works so well–I can see the fading happening…
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I’m so pleased you visualised the fading, Magaly. Thank you!
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I love the switching scenes with the poppy being at the centre of it all.
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My mum’s favourite wild flower had to be at the centre, Viv! 🙂
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👍🏽
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Oh, your language is just so vivid and alive.
Thanks for dropping by my sumie Sunday today
Much❤🕊❤love
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Thank you, lovely Gillena! Enjoy the rest of Sunday.
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What an incredible sestina. the poppies, the heat, the children, the colors…all of it. I hope to write one one day but for right now, I am happy to read your exquisite sestina.
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You’re so kind, Toni, Thanky ou!
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It’s like I leaned inside a frame at a museum and fell into a landscape! A beautiful and vivid sestina!
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Thank you so much!
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You have described it SO well. The August sun can be relentless.
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Thank you so much, Mary.
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Ah, I just returned from France. Beautiful area of Pornichet on the west. Your poem was rich with symbolism and metaphor. Beautifully penned.
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Thank you, Mary.
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Your beautifully imaged visuals (which I’ve noticed are a bit of a lovely signature for you as they are so splendiferous) are, once again, utterly stunning. Wonderful writing … the kind of piece I enjoy lingering over.
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Thank you so much, Wendy.
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What a beautiful poem which took the reader right into the scene. Poppies will always have that wonderful relationship with death where the loss of a loved one especially in war is comforting by their beauty.
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Thank you, Robin.
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This is excellent writing and a beautiful poem. A sestina is a tough form to handle but you have tackled it so brilliantly.
The first stanza reminds me of a battlefield but the whole poem, with its lovely, rustic imagery, speaks to me of an Impressionist painting (Monet’s Poppies?). 🙂
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Thank you so much! It is a very tricky form and I don’t think I’ll be trying again for the near future. It was important to me to include the link to the battlefield and the symbolism of the poppy among the images of beauty and summer heat.
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Wow, Kim! You take us there with your vibrant colors, sounds, and heat…there’s also a touch of sadness, even horror remembered, in the air.
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Thank you so much, Lynn!
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I knew you wouldn’t fail! You always create such beautiful evocations of the natural world, which I have come to look forward to. And you’ve done it again!
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You’ve made me blush Rosemary. Thank you.
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This has such beautiful imagery and I can feel the heat and the way August comes to an end. The red of the poppies seem to echo that dying fall and bring out feelings connected to loss as you lead us to the crimson image.
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Thank you kindly!
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