Geranium Revisited

It emerges like a blush
from variegated leaves,
a beauty hidden in a bush
beneath overhanging eaves.
Its petals radiate scarlet
and the whole plant exudes
the intoxicating scent of harlot,
earthy and a little rude,
with citrus zest and peppery hot,
a geranium blooming in a pot.

Kim M. Russell, 5th September 2019

Related image
Geranium drawing found on Pinterest

My poem for dVerse Poets Pub Open Link Night, also linked to Poets United Poetry Pantry

After seeing a wonderful display of geraniums recently, I have reworked a poem I posted on 5th September 2016, which was originally inspired by a wonderful photograph taken by Paul Militaru. I’ve chosen a new image for it this time.

67 thoughts on “Geranium Revisited”

  3. Hah! I never thought of the scent of a geranium as the scent of a harlot. Maybe a farmer’s wife with her hands in the dirt all of the tme. a lovely poem about geranmiums. I bring mine inside so they will last until I put them back out in spring, pinching off bits to root and make more. I like your short compact forms of poems so much.

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  9. I love how you have extracted so much dazzling detail and caused me to take a closer look at a flower that is so commonplace around me, I hardly take note of its brilliance. I think we do this with a lot of the most important stuff of life. Thanks for the reminder, Kim!

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  21. Garden poetry holds a special place in my heart. And when it reads like a recipe, then it goes into my soul too. I love the rhythm, the colors, the tastes that grow out of your poem. And that perfect bloom you end with is such a gift.

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  25. Beautiful. I love poems that take something from the garden and help us look at it in a new way. This time I am impressed with the way you caused me to SMELL the geranium. Well worded.

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  32. Wow Kim! This is a fav for me now. We find full new little corners filled with all sorts of life everywhere round us don’t we?! That little flower, so ubiquitous, hanging from every building in the Bernese Old Town… Right next to the Holy Ghost Church. Splash of color and that smell, reich and verdant and unabashed, maybe the smell of the harlot, but not the prostitute, this little flower will not be owned by anyone but the bees, she dances on her terms, it is the really the musky lovely smell that completes it.

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