wild flowers

hiking through

 mountain meadows

i drank in first

the red of wild roses

the blue of the lupines and the



of california poppies

but then quickly became tipsy

and a bit nauseated

from the aroma of

the purple hypertensia. 

it was in deep forest

that the flowers became

too bold.

the searching tendrils

of tiny pink


reached out for my wrists,

encircled my waist,

then pulled me

to the ground

among the

red-flecked rapansia

that released

saccharine-scented spores

 until i passed out

among the wild flowers

that always pull me in.

Published by


I've been writing mostly poetry for many years and have gotten a number of works accepted in publications and anthologies. I'm most interested in communicating with poets for whom craft is a high priority. I enjoy finding and commenting on poetic gems in other people's work. For my own work, I welcome polite comments, whether positive or critical.

16 thoughts on “wild flowers”

  1. Lovely … very heady … reminds me of this from Keats:

    I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
    Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
    But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet
    Wherewith the seasonable month endows
    The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;
    White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;
    Fast fading violets cover’d up in leaves;
    And mid-May’s eldest child,
    The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,
    The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.

    from ‘Ode to a Nightingale’

    Liked by 1 person

    1. this passage from keats, something i haven’t read for many years, reminds me of how beautiful his poetry could be. i am glad my poem somehow reminded you of “Ode,” and that you took the time not only to read it but to send along this wonderful comment.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. I see all the flowers you name so clearly — and I love the “iris-scorching orange of California poppies”…two flowers in one 🙂 And, in the end, to be so consumed — a blissful way to go 😉

    Liked by 1 person

    1. carrie, thanks for your comment, insightful as always. honestly, i never realized the pun on “iris” until you pointed it out. we do have wild irises in this area, though. yes, blissful, indeed.


  3. Dark and rich. I wonder if you deliberately place words like ‘scar-flowers’ near ‘wrists’. Very cutting imagery.

    Random thought that came to mind: cosmic fear is not out there, but in our own gardens (in this case, the forests).

    Love the entire poem!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. millie, i’m grateful for your response. in this case i was aware that placing those two words close together would suggest violence. i hike regularly even though i certainly have been fearful in the forest, especially when alone. my persona in the poem seems to seek fear, which may seem odd, but i think many people do. i appreciate your interesting observation. — michael

      Liked by 1 person

  4. This is lovely. I agree with the reminiscence of Keats. You have dealt well with the uncertainty of what is happening, too. Mad the ending, giving into the wild flowers — just nice.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. i appreciate your kind and helpful comment which lets me know that the madness gets through. and i’ll take being mentioned in the same sentence with keats any day, although i think you are too gracious. –michael

      Liked by 1 person

  5. This is wonderful. I really enjoyed the reading, too. I know you’ve just been to my site. Feel free to link any of your readings to the open mic post. I’d love to have you.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. thanks so much! it’s gracious of you to offer the links. as soon as i figure out how to do that, i will take you up on your kind offer. and then i could perhaps learn how to offer you audio links on my site. — michael


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