Bolder than Brass

In the Eighties I remember a young substitute teacher asking me to write a poem about a flower, any flower.. I told her I didn't really want to write a poem about a flower. She delved into a large cardboard box and pulled out a photograph of a Mercedes Benz.. She whispered, "Write a poem about a car!' I said I didn't want to. Slightly flustered she reverted to plan A, 'write a poem about a flower in your garden." She suggested. I explained that we didn't have a garden.. She asked, 'Do you have a local park?' I mumbled 'Kind of.' She said 'Write about the flowers in the park." Dejected, I informed her that our local park didn't have flowers, it was called 'The Wreck' and only had weeds.' Through gritted teeth she whined, 'Well write a poem about a weed then!' So I did and here it is;

The Weed.

I'm not talking about the one who sits at the front of this classroom.
I'm not talking about the friend of the flowerpotmen.
I'm not talking about the one that the Hippies smoke.
I'm talking about the smoothest King of beasts.
the Dandelion.
But if he's so tough how come I can break his neck with my little finger?

You can imagine the teacher wasn't very impressed. In fact she hated it..

Shooting flowers is not really my bag either and I nearly always leave it to those who can do it the Best. I do make one obvious exception for a certain species.

Poppy can be so bold

Poppy can be so Delicate.

I've just realised almost a year ago I shot this at the same place in the back garden..

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