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Sweet Lavandin
by Kristina WoodhillShe drifted by so languidly
in skirt of cotton softly combed,
her eyes averted, shyly roamed
these lakeside fields of purple sea.
Her sachets she had secreted
in drawers of satin,
cottons fine;
precisely she applied rich oils
to points of heat -
redolent wine.
The breeze was hers to redirect
at will she nodded as its course
began to atomize her words,
thoughts fusing with her drifting scent.
Heads raised from cutting fields, alert -
tongues flicked the air - male nostrils flared;
strong shoulders stretched, while loins prepared
to sort out who might claim her skirt.
Though drifting aimlessly, she seemed,
her growing instincts spied on bees
and followed their simplicity
the strongest pollen she would glean.
Into her suitors' eyes she swam
and asked, and dove her question deep
but only one could answer true,
so in his heart, she placed her key.
And he, a man of cut and dried,
a learned man of chemistry
knew only one sure way to keep
such fragrance safely, true and tried;
He locked her in his garden shed
a cool, dark room, with feathered bed,
and there he kept her perfectly
preserved in lavandinery.
07/15/2008
Posted on 07/15/2008
Copyright © 2024 Kristina Woodhill
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Charlie Morgan on 07/15/08 at 09:22 PM ...kristina, how wonderfully lost i was as i went from bedromm to savannah, then back again, love[r]ly...geeze i do love the metaphors slicing all through this and sends it to several planes...mmm. |
| Posted by A. Paige White on 07/15/08 at 10:24 PM What a lovely maiden's map with a bit of a chilling Rappucini's twist at the end. What a sip to savor! |
| Posted by Rhiannon Jones on 07/16/08 at 01:40 AM Ooooo...lovely, sensual, metaphorical. I really enjoyed this. |
| Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 07/16/08 at 12:56 PM Balladlike, one is transported to a senuous experience of lavendar and love (lust?). Extraordinary ending! |
| Posted by Michelle Angelini on 07/18/08 at 07:00 PM Kristina, another one of your garden masterpieces. It took me a couple reads, but I realized, this poem isn't about a woman, but a lavendar plant itself, its affect on those who are enchanted by its scent, and the gardener who knows the plant's true essence. Incredible allegory. |
| Posted by James Zealy on 07/19/08 at 07:31 PM Lavender perfumed beauty, and wouldn't a man want to keep such sensual beauty to himself? The plant and women intertwine. Interesting |
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