Miss Pottifer lives above me in the first floor balcony flat.
Last Spring she wanted a thing to climb and to cling
over the railings on her first floor balcony flat.
Off she went and rashly spent almost her last cent
on a passionflower plant for her first floor balcony flat.
That summer was glum — not much fun and no sun.
The wind blew — the plant turned a sickly hue…
Miss Pottifer expended hours trying to tend it
as it straggled, bedraggled, on the first floor balcony flat.
The leaves dropped — Miss Pottifer flopped.
The stalks drooped — Miss Pottifer stooped.
When Winter’s ice caught the plant in its crusted vice,
I hoped the worst was over for Miss P. and cursed
the passionflower plant on her first floor balcony flat.
But this year green tendrils were to be seen
twirling… curling… scrambling and rambling.
For this year the heat shimmered in a lead-beat sheet
around the railings of Miss Pottifer’s first floor balcony flat.
And the passion plant bloomed.
– erect stamen-spumed, pollen-plumed –
blossoms.
Miss Pottifer also flowered — sexy and empowered –
soaking up the solar treasure, lost in mindless pleasure.
While those passion flowers flaunted their taunting gifts,
I glowered, angry and soured, through long stuffy hours
hearing Miss Pottifer laugh and love in her first floor balcony flat.
November’s rain is colder and the passion plant looks older.
The flowers’ purple thrust are trussed…
– rounded, their sexiness confounded –
…into orange squashiness.
Swaying through these chilly days, sagging and rotten,
the plant is weighed down, neglected and forgotten.
For Miss Pottifer also thickens as life within her quickens –
bearing the fruit of her own passion in her first floor balcony flat.
S. J. Higbee lives of the south coast of England where she spends a lot of time at her computer waiting for inspiration to strike. Which generally clobbers her when she is in the supermarket or in the middle of teaching a lesson…
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5 Responses to “MISS POTTIFER AND THE PASSION FRUIT • by S. J. Higbee”
Comments
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February 2nd, 2009 at 5:55 am
With a little tightening and further work, this poem would make a good cautionary poem for twelve-year old girl children. Naturally, for the child, the words “sexiness” and “sexy” would have to be changed to “beauty” or some other word of the author’s choosing.
February 2nd, 2009 at 8:07 am
I liked your use of internal rhymes, and the story is cute. “Miss Pottifer” for me, though, conjured up an image of a sweet little old spinster. Thus I was a bit surprised when I got down to the next summer’s activty…
February 2nd, 2009 at 11:00 am
Well told tale! Wouldn’t change a thing!!
–dj
February 2nd, 2009 at 11:36 am
Did I miss something? The title refers to passion fruit, the poem to passion flower. Sorry to be picky – but it tripped me at line 4. I was then expecting passion fruit to have some significance – and lo and behold – I was not disappointed after all – the last line brought it home.
February 2nd, 2009 at 2:22 pm
Great fun. Well done!
Cheers
Mark