A Poem, a Photo, an Iris Silky White

Archey Fork Park 30 Apr 2006 004

An Iris Bouquet

In waters of the Little Red
a gift swirls in suspense–
pretty present for a maiden–
selected by a daring prince.

At a crossing near the rapids
where canoes can suddenly spin,
the Prince dropped an Iris bouquet
far below the river’s bend.

The swift current claimed the present
chosen for his mountain queen,
refused then to release it
from the bottom of the stream.

The wild and bubbling current
defied the Prince’s charms
and gripped his darling’s present
tightly in its mighty arms.

Silky white and purple petals–
nurtured in the Ozark suns–
drifting now to far-off places
where the wild Red River runs.

© Freeda Baker Nichols

Buckets of Bouquets

This poem follows the Dorsimbra form. The form contains three stanzas. The first stanza has four lines of Shakespearean sonnet (iambic pentameter   rhymed abab).  The second stanza has four lines of short, snappy  free verse.  The third stanza has four lines of iambic pentameter blank verse, where the last line repeats the first line of stanza one.


Buckets of Bouquets

Pink hollyhocks and purple iris grew
along the garden fence of wooden rails.
The flowers bloomed in shades of deepest hue.
We picked bouquets to fill the old lard pails.
June bugs buzzed
in tune with Mother’s voice
lifting to strains of
“Rock of Ages.”
The wooden fence has crumpled to the ground;
the old lard pails are nothing now but rust.
Thorn trees, persimmon bushes stand where once
pink hollyhocks and purple iris grew.

c Copyright 2012, Freeda Baker Nichols