‘Tis a bleeding heart she kneels to touch
twixt garden replete with anemones.
Tears fall, drenching red-lobed blossoms,
whilst silent sobs take leave from half-bent frame.
Loneliness stalks her vulnerability
as sun begins to fade and violet shades the sky.
Fragile moss roses shrink within themselves
having lost the rays of day.
Anguish struck, she sags at the sound
as wrought iron gate clangs shut.
Lover no more, their friendship spent,
mounted, he urges steed to faster speed.
Digs, indeed embeds, his silver spurs
into rippling sweating flanks.
He rushes, nay, he flees from her,
she ripe with unborn child
his seed within her womb.
Hapless garden waiting but to bloom.
Written for Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Sarah hosts today, asking us to consider the language of flowers….a popular craze within the 19th century when writing was how people communicated over distance and time. Within a list she provides, Garden Anemones are equated with “forsaken.” Trying my hand at a Victorian tone here.
lillian the home poet 
Oh this works so well with that flower… in Swedish it’s called a lieutenant’s heart… and works so well with this tragedy that could well fit into broadsheet song…
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Ah, many thanks, Bjorn. I’ll get to reading the flower posts later this afternoon. I’m a wee bit behind.
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Another colourful posy, Lill! I love the lines:
‘Fragile moss roses shrink within themselves
having lost the rays of day’
so delicate after the striking red-lobed blossoms.
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Thank you, Kim. Sarah really provided a lovely prompt!
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Nice sound in the sadness of the last two lines.
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Thank you, Frank.
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I read this and thought how well it fitted with that Victorian romantic sensibility. I love the final irony of the seed blossoming inside her, and the subtle use of the anemone message. And the violet sky – perfect. This is delightful.
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Thank you, Sarah. I truly truly enjoyed this prompt and loved transporting my pen back into Victorian times 🙂
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Brava.. 😎🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀
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Thank you! How approriate to use emoji of flowers 🙂
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I love the garden references. That cad on his horse should stop by mine…. I’ve got a gift for him😈
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Hah! Yes indeed….he is a cad for sure.
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👍🏽
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I agree–you have weaved an entire Victorian tale in the mantle of one poem. I loved it, reminding me of Bronte & Dickinson. The clang of that iron gate haunts, as I see a young Vincent Price as the dastardly lover.
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Oh my……..so glad you enjoyed, Glenn. I just finished my haibun readings….and shall get to all the flower posts this afternoon. Looking forward to yours! 🙂
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What a sad ending to the beautiful blossoms ~ The last two lines closed this tragedy with an ironic twist on the seed waiting to bloom ~
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Thank you, Grace….such a nice comment to read this morning! I just caught up on my final haibun readings (the old teacher in me had me writing quite long replies) so will catch up on the floral posts this afternoon. Look forward to reading yours.
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Lovely Victorian tone!
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Thank you, Jo!
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Sounds like the premise of a Greek tragedy, Love it!
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Hah! A Greek tragedy in a Victorian garden 🙂
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That was a wild ride for sure!! You have really incorporated a lot of flower power in this one. I liked the unborn seeds in the womb …
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Thank you! I really enjoyed this prompt. Just caught up on my haibun reading and will move on to all the flower posts this afternoon. Look forward to reading yours!
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Wow, Lillian, what a heartbreaking Victorian bouquet you’ve arranged with your words. The sounds of iron gate and hoofbeats echo with betrayal.
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Betrayal indeed. In the words of Vivien, he was a cad! Glad you enjoyed.
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What a tragedy! What a cad! What so often a reality!
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I did so enjoy writing this one….somehow it ended sadly….I guess the bleeding hearts were the omen?
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Could be. My sister-in-law gave me a bleeding heart. Then she died of breast cancer. That was years ago. I still have the beautiful plant that expands every year. Beauty in the pain.
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Oh! To be forsaken in such a manner is so saddening. It makes for a classic Victorian moral story, but how you interpret it makes all the difference. Well-penned.
-HA
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Thank you, HA! So glad you enjoyed.
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The last two lines summarizes the entire poem like how a sunset put a period on another day. So beautiful, Lillian
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Ah, many thanks for the kind comment! Truly appreciated.
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Love this. The ending is so beautiful and thought provoking. On the one hand, it is sad that he will not be a part of the garden blooming garden. On the other hand, it may all be for the best.
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hmmmm….you may have something there. Any cad who digs his spurs into the flanks of his horse….well how good of a dad could he have been? My pen just sort of ran with this one and turned it into a story. I guess I should have known where the writing would go when I started with the bleeding heart!
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That’s the beauty of writing, isn’t it? Sometimes, it takes unexpected turns. It takes a life of its own and no one knows who’s in control? the writer or the story? 🙂
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‘Flees from her’ represents the reality in these cases so well.
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Sadly yes….in Victorian times and today as well.
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