Prettiest Peony
it is arduous to conceive
the prettiest peony shares
its light iridescent name
with a flashy French actress
an expert self-mythologizer
the same protean character
who accessorized with dead bats
traveled with her own private coffin
and a champagne-eating alligator
the prettiest peony resembles an
old-fashioned apple blossom rose
soft ruffled petals edges a trifle lighter
heirloom double pink heaving blooms
often freckled with sprays of carmine red
adorned with handsome deep green
foliage and a fully poised stem
gracing sunny gardens and elegant vases
the prettiest peony is not childishly egotistical
wouldn’t dare bully its coterie of lovers
or scratch the nerves of its affectionate recipient
Sarah Bernhardt with her counterfeit speech
eccentric consumptive appearance tinted
with an evident inability to obey all the rules
lavishly lends her name to the prettiest peony
a courageous perennial not a sterling biography yet
captures her stirring vitality to incite an admirer
that two such opposites should collide
is the greatest conundrum
**
I love peonies. I think they are beautiful. I discovered
that one of the prettiest peonies was named after an infamous female and found
the contrast striking. Enough that I put my lazy pen to paper and dared to
write about it. I’m not sure I’m satisfied with it yet. I am certain there will
be some tweaking at a later date but it is fun to read aloud and for the
imagery to come alive in my mind.
I’ve been pecking at this for about a week or so, in
between fits and starts with my current short story (whose main character still
remains nameless). It’s not perfect but it’s pernicious in a sense. The real
human Sarah Bernhardt was a fascinating female figure who defied all reason in
a male-driven era. Her legacy and the flower don’t really have anything in
common other than the name. Maybe because they often refer to the flower as
fragrant and showy? Likely.
That’s all for today, folks. Sun is setting and I’ve
still got to prepare my lunch for the old 9 to 5 tomorrow. Oh, but the weekend
looms …
In propinquity,
Nic
