Image: © Copyright Glyn Baker and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence

on a distant path
I chance upon
a host of booming violets.
their brazen faces
fix me with unwavering gaze.

in possession of a square
of otherwise bare earth
they reign supreme.
spreading their leaves wide
they discourage
prospective tenants
of this exclusive patch of land.
no foreign seeds may gain purchase.

not for this elite vegetation
a humdrum life on the outskirts,
rubbing against common blades of grass,
fighting bristly oxtongue and
lesser burdock for
a modest corner,
or entering beauty contests
in competition with ragged robin,
cat’s ear and cuckoo flower

these blooms with their
brash expressions are
so unlike their common cousins
which shyly, and
with downcast glance try
to hide their faces,
or if they chance to
peek skyward,
their demeanor suggests
don’t wish to be seen.

© Jane Paterson Basil


2 thoughts on “Elitist

    1. Is it? That’s a lovely thing to say. I just write, and hope that it’s ok. Once I start my fingers ignore what I expected to say, and say something entirely different. This poem, for example, appears to have become some kind of comment on the human condition. I was intending to expalin how different early violets are to common dog violets. They look the same, but they’re larger and bolder. Instead I said they thought they were better than their neighbours!


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