Clarice (Plant Girl)

First of my 'Les Femmes Tragiques' quartet. Clarice is representative of Spring. The moral of this poem is 'curiosity killed the cat.'

Clarice wasn’t born like you and me,

But grown in a garden on a cliff by the sea.

She could hear the waves crashing, the gulls in the air,

But never could see them or what else was there.

 

The garden was beautiful, the soil was warm,

She would drink at the rain as it fell from a storm.

And yet health and security did not quite suffice,

She craved to escape and cared not for the price.

 

She struggled and scraped as she tore herself free,

Through the dirt and the stones that were moist from the sea.

She could hear her roots tearing and furrowed her brow

as she ripped through the earth like the blade of a plough.

 

On the lawn she lay panting, overwhelmed by the sight,

Of the flowers and hedgerows that slept through the night.

Her legs shook as she stood like a newly born deer,

Walked unsteadily off to the cliff that was near.

 

She let out a gasp as she stood on the edge,

She’d never felt freedom like here on the ledge.

Her roots hung from her body still dusted with dirt,

They lulled in the breeze like the scraps of a skirt.

 

As she gazed out at the ocean the cold made her shake,

Her barely used legs were beginning to ache.

As she turned on her heel she let out a yell

As she slipped in the nothingness and helplessly fell

 

Into freezing water she plunged with a splash,

Her mind filled with panic, her limbs started to thrash.

With a swell of the ocean she hit into the stone,

Clutching on like a weed she felt truly alone.

 

And she started to climb as the wind whipped about,

Would she get to the top? Her mind filled with doubt.

Over hours she scrabbled and clawed ever high,

Her fingers were bleeding as she started to cry.

 

She finally made it and lay there depleted,

From the edge of the cliff she slowly retreated.

Back into the garden where she felt she could rest,

And went back to the hole that she used to detest.

 

She froze in the darkness and stared at the ground,

Her hole had closed up and could not be found.

She knew that her earthbed could not be rebuilt,

So sat down, felt regret, and started to wilt.

RIP

Clarice Clementine

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Author's Note

Haha I'm quite proud of this one, would really appreciate any feedback, good OR bad!

Reviews

[SilentSKY]

*gasp* this was wonderful, with so much.....AWESOMENESS!! and I'm not just being nice here- I'm a hard critic, and I'm telling you the truth. It was wonderful and so metaphorical.... :)