AN ODE TO MARIGOLD

Marigold is perhaps the most widely and commonly used flower on practically all occasions in India, be it celebratory or solemn and sombre. Seeing them bloom in the balcony, spreading cheer and sunshine, pen took to writing this poem.

AN ODE TO MARIGOLD

Amongst many a flower of beauty, beckoning to behold,

Floating placidly holding her own, in gold is the bold Marigold.

Like an orange flame rising high against clear blue skies,

Her pulchritude dripping from each petal, quilled, warm and nice.

Twirling and whorling in her floret, squeezed up in a bract,

Sharing her disc with many, holding all together with tact.

Majestic among lanceolate leaflets, a velvety melody in green,

Holding aloft the brilliance of a million sun corals in marine.

Basking in balmy breeze, strikes a musky redolence with pungence,

In yellow, white, maroon and orange, keeps all riveted with her flamboyance.

More the merrier innately embossed right onto her spirit,

Prospects of drowning among sea of flowers, doesn’t seem to fear it.

Stays stoic, alive, fresh and blithe, drawing life from within,

Sees it all, getting plucked, needled and threaded onto string.

Adorns thresholds, altars, necks of guests, groom and bride,

With equal poise, takes celebrations and funerals in her stride.

Spreads sunshine in the garden of one’s soul’s eye,

Unmindful of what’s inside, blue, pink, or grey sky.

Breaks all barriers refuting myth of being a flower of the dead,

Nails her colours to the mast, tall and effervescent on the flowerbed.