Red Tulips

Red Tulips

This 10th collection of poetry by Hugh David Loxdale covers themes like natural selection, environmental issues and the behaviour of animals and birds, especially bird song. It also includes sex, sleep, the presence (or not) of ghosts, memories of lost loved ones, the horrors of the First World War, the desire to voyage, and even the struggle to get out of bed in the morning!


 

Author: Hugh David Loxdale
Publisher: Brambleby Books
Year of Publication: 2017
Format and Pages: Paperback, 80pp
ISBN: 9781908241511
Retail Price: £7.99
Our Discount Price: £6.40

Sample text from Red Tulips

Alive!


 


We are alive…both you and I!


We share the commonality of life,


Ere we die,


The chance to dance, skip, laugh and sing,


To stand in tall grass fields when the quail take wing,


To stand and watch the setting sun,


Full red-ripe, two of us, not just one.


Watch the brown trout in crystal streams,


To cast a line or wish our dreams,


Hold hands and tell stories


Till the hour is late,


By crackling flames, our hopes we state.


Enquire with neighbours of their delicate health,


Of their daughter’s ambitions and their son’s wealth.


And cast down earphones, iPods and all,


So that we can stand in tall grass, so tall,


And speculate why butterflies skim and weave…as they do,


And whether life is sweet, real, perfect…


And indeed, is true.



Lavender


 


A remembrance of high summer’s


Most glorious days,


The dried spikes in linen sachets


Under pillow and in draw,


Now a relict where once myriad


Bumblebees and butterflies flew


And danced away the sunlit hours,


To them, a happy pastime,


A pleasure, not a law,


Except that the plant


Their services needs,


To pollinate its pale purple blooms


With all their powers


And, later, set its shiny brown seeds


Anew. 


 


Red Tulips


 


Red, they explode outward in bold array,


A riot of colour, a revolution, some might say,


They exude energy sucked from the once cold clay,


A dynamic still life, a contradiction, in some sort of way,


They breathe fire, like dragons, that needs must we slay,


Then droop, lose faith, and sad fade away…


 


But they had their hour of glory, of still fame,


Longer in fact, shone that gorgeous flame,


Of spring’s promise, an essence that no one can tame,


Dragon slayers or fire-eaters, or as you may name,


They have their mission; they know their game,


One to inspire…and hence, show no shame…


 


A flower, true, yet much more than this,


Tulip, symbol of Lowlands and mad crisis,


Wild bloom of distant lands, seas of calm bliss,


Growing from high mountains to sunlit abyss,


A lily, so strange, ensnares the rainbow, and is…


The gesture of romance, that most tender kiss.


 


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