12-04-2014, 02:29 PM
Edit #2 - thanks to all, maybe not finished yet
My web connection is down.
I can’t remember the name of that herb
Romans prized for mending bones –
they bound leaves tightly around the break,
picked up their shield and kept running.
I remember how it grew
under my quince tree. Unchecked,
it would smother
the clump of yarrow
and the blue bearded irises
under wide furry leaves.
A spike each spring of violet-coloured
triffid flowers. I can see drops of dew
on the petals, a sprinkle
of miniature crystal balls reflecting
a precisely inverted remembered world
but its name no longer responds.
I can even see a gardening book
that names it, on my shelf
in another country,
in a room that no longer exists,
in a memory that persists.
I can turn to page 432 and see the
picture but I can’t read the
caption underneath.
Is this how it begins? Breaks that
can’t be mended because the
name has gone?
Edit #1
What’s the name of that broad-leaved herb
Romans prized for mending bones –
you bound leaves tightly around the break,
picked up your shield and kept running?
I can see it growing in my old garden
under the quince tree, where it smothered
if unchecked the clump of yarrow
and the blue bearded irises
under flat furry leaves
that grew back each year
with a spike in spring of violet
triffid flowers. I can close my eyes
and see drops of dew, a sprinkle of
pearly diamonds reflecting
a precisely inverted world
but its name no longer responds.
I can even see the book on my bookshelf
in another country, in a room
that doesn’t exist any more
in a memory that still does.
I can turn to page 432 and see the
picture but I can’t read the
caption underneath. Is this
how it begins? Breaks that
can’t be mended because
the name has gone?
First draft
What’s the name of that broad-leaved herb
Romans prized for mending bones –
you bound leaves tightly around the break,
picked up your shield and kept running?
I can see in my old garden;
it spread like cancer if I was slow,
with a central spike in spring of
violet triffid flowers, quite small.
I can close my eyes and focus on
drops of dew, a sprinkle of hybrid
pearl/diamonds on wide furry leaves
regrowing each year under the quince
between the clump of yarrow
and the blue bearded iris
but its name has escaped me.
I can even see the book
in its place on my bookshelf
in another country, in a room
that doesn’t exist any more
in a memory that still does.
I turn to page 432 and see the
picture but I can’t read the
caption underneath. Is this
how it starts? Breaks that
can’t mend because
the words have gone?
My web connection is down.
I can’t remember the name of that herb
Romans prized for mending bones –
they bound leaves tightly around the break,
picked up their shield and kept running.
I remember how it grew
under my quince tree. Unchecked,
it would smother
the clump of yarrow
and the blue bearded irises
under wide furry leaves.
A spike each spring of violet-coloured
triffid flowers. I can see drops of dew
on the petals, a sprinkle
of miniature crystal balls reflecting
a precisely inverted remembered world
but its name no longer responds.
I can even see a gardening book
that names it, on my shelf
in another country,
in a room that no longer exists,
in a memory that persists.
I can turn to page 432 and see the
picture but I can’t read the
caption underneath.
Is this how it begins? Breaks that
can’t be mended because the
name has gone?
Edit #1
What’s the name of that broad-leaved herb
Romans prized for mending bones –
you bound leaves tightly around the break,
picked up your shield and kept running?
I can see it growing in my old garden
under the quince tree, where it smothered
if unchecked the clump of yarrow
and the blue bearded irises
under flat furry leaves
that grew back each year
with a spike in spring of violet
triffid flowers. I can close my eyes
and see drops of dew, a sprinkle of
pearly diamonds reflecting
a precisely inverted world
but its name no longer responds.
I can even see the book on my bookshelf
in another country, in a room
that doesn’t exist any more
in a memory that still does.
I can turn to page 432 and see the
picture but I can’t read the
caption underneath. Is this
how it begins? Breaks that
can’t be mended because
the name has gone?
First draft
What’s the name of that broad-leaved herb
Romans prized for mending bones –
you bound leaves tightly around the break,
picked up your shield and kept running?
I can see in my old garden;
it spread like cancer if I was slow,
with a central spike in spring of
violet triffid flowers, quite small.
I can close my eyes and focus on
drops of dew, a sprinkle of hybrid
pearl/diamonds on wide furry leaves
regrowing each year under the quince
between the clump of yarrow
and the blue bearded iris
but its name has escaped me.
I can even see the book
in its place on my bookshelf
in another country, in a room
that doesn’t exist any more
in a memory that still does.
I turn to page 432 and see the
picture but I can’t read the
caption underneath. Is this
how it starts? Breaks that
can’t mend because
the words have gone?