Today’s quick doodle was based on photos I took of some poppies along the sea wall in Victoria this summer. What a wonderful colour they were – so vibrant and cheerful!
UPDATE: New poem from Tom takes an interesting approach to the viewer of these poppies…
I drifted lonely in a daze
though silent streets and empty crowds
befuddled by morphia’s haze
my ragged head in fluffy clouds
of chemical-contented warm
that wrapped my skinny, sickly form
when what should catch my glassy eyes
but the source of all my thoughts
a patch of burnished poppies flies
its petaled flags burnt-orange hot
that touched some smoldering waste within
this sack of bones and punctured skin
arresting now my downward drift
so that I could contemplate
the passing beauty of this gift:
a poison flower that I should hate
for though it took away my pain
it left me broken, halt and lame
but in that moment it returned
the certainty of something more:
a beauty in the world that burned
within my bruised and beaten core
which was enough to turn the tide
while poppies in the fields abide.
Copyright (C) 2012 Tom Radcliffe
image (cc) 2012 Hilary Farmer
I love the comic book feel and movement!
Thank you Max! I appreciate it 🙂
I drifted lonely in a daze
though silent streets and empty crowds
befuddled by morphia’s haze
my ragged head in fluffy clouds
of chemical-contented warm
that wrapped my skinny, sickly form
when what should catch my glassy eyes
but the source of all my thoughts
a patch of burnished poppies flies
its petaled flags burnt-orange hot
that touched some smoldering waste within
this sack of bones and punctured skin
arresting now my downward drift
so that I could contemplate
the passing beauty of this gift:
a poison flower that I should hate
for though it took away my pain
it left me broken, halt and lame
but in that moment it returned
the certainty of something more:
a beauty in the world that burned
within my bruised and beaten core
which was enough to turn the tide
while poppies in the fields abide.
Copyright (C) 2012 Tom Radcliffe
Love the image! We had a cluster of poppies much like this one behind the house I grew up in. For whatever reason this reminded me of Wordsworth’s daffodils, and the image of a junkie (of which there are sadly many on the West Coast) finding the beauty of the poppy enough to turn their life around when at it’s lowest ebb seemed like an interesting twist.
Love the poem, Tom. Thanks so much! The imagery is very strong.