Lotus
First flower, from primeval flooding sprung,
In virtuous, voluptuous perfection,
The lotus favors eye and mind and tongue
With vigor, through life-cheering introspection
Involving ever-vibrant petals white.
Its blossoms affably exchange affection
While practicing rhymed raptures of delight
In measured, complementary reflection.
Escaping deafened depths of murky mud,
Poetic spirits cultivate creation,
For every heart conceals a lotus bud,
One capable of lively generation.
The potent eggs, Nile blue or Ganges pink,
Break open after studied incubation,
To decorate the language-laden link
Between an image and interpretation.
The rooted lotus bears and spreads its seeds
With individual tranquility,
Compassionate and clear in speech and deeds
Of literary sensitivity.
The fruitful elegance of many modes,
From emerald grace to pearl profundity,
Paves golden roads to wonder-filled abodes
That seem to furnish immortality.
Margaret Coats lives in California. She holds a Ph.D. in English and American Literature and Language from Harvard University. She has retired from a career of teaching literature, languages, and writing that included considerable work in homeschooling for her own family and others.
Thank you, Margaret, for this beautiful and sensitive poem, full of delicate and suggestive thought and imagery. I suspect that the lovely alliterative expressions are wholly or largely, as so often in good writing, unconscious. Best wishes, Bruce
Thank you, Bruce! Alliterative expressions do come without my searching for them, and there are more here than in many of my poems. I do my best to make sure these special sounds are neither excessive nor meaningless. For the lotus as a symbol of much, including poetry, the abundance seems appropriate, and I’m glad you find the effect lovely.
Not only did you slip in an unusual helping of alliteration, Margaret (“murky mud” being only the most prominent) but also–am I right?–more assonance than is typical in your poetry, which (assonance) is made to stand in the shade of the alliteration.
I agree with what you say about purposeful application of alliteration, but it also appeals to me on purely musical grounds: easpecially with liquescents the effect can be hard to resist.
Thank you for another well worked out, beautifully poised poem.
Thank you, Julian, for hearing assonance in the shade of alliteration. This poem with so much alliteration may have less assonance than my usual. I like assonance for being artful but unobtrusive. In this poem we have alternating assonance on “eh” and “i” in “ever-vibrant petals white.” That’s supposed to be lotus petals turning like the pages of the book below them in the Society icon. But often I forget the instances of assonance after writing them. As you do, I think about the kind of letter and its effect on music. Easily flowing liquescents “r” and “l,” explosive “b” and “p,” humming nasals “m” and “n,” hissing “s” and “z.” There’s so much to be heard under the radar!
By the way, I received praise by e-mail for the “perfect meter” of this poem. What do you think?
Margaret, with your extensive Asian experiences, the lotus is perfectly portrayed with sensational sensitivity. Beyond that, you have the gift of embedding such significant meaning for our lives (“For every heart conceals a lotus bud,
One capable of lively generation.”) Your English language capability is entrancing and nonpareil as I savored every word and phrase. Since reading your first poem on this site, you have been enshrined in my personal pantheon of all-time great poets.
The lotus is a sensational symbol, especially in Asia. The idea that “every heart conceals a lotus bud” comes from the Lotus Sutra, an important text in Buddhism. I’ve applied it here to creativity, especially in poetry. As we see here at the Society (where our icon is a stylized lotus above a book of moving pages), poetic creativity is indeed widespread, coming from the heart as well as from study of classic poets. Thank you so very much, Roy, for placing me among those you favor!
What a great poem. Roy already picked out my favorite line. Beyond that, the rhyming scheme is fantastic and unique (at least as far as I know based on my limited knowledge). Thanks for the great read!
Thanks for your comment, Warren. Think of yourself as one of the poetic spirits, about whom that favorite line speaks! The rhyme scheme here (ababcbcb) is standard for the most common form of the French ballade, though a ballade would usually have a refrain for the last line of each stanza. And in a ballade the same sounds would be used for each stanza. But I choose different sounds for each stanza–a more comfortable plan for English speakers.
To correct myself here, the rhyme scheme of this poem (ababcbcb) is not “the most common” for the ballade, but one possible for the ballade, where eight-line stanzas and three rhyme sounds are usual. The most common rhyme scheme for the ballade is ababbcbC where the capital C indicates a refrain. Thus “Lotus” does indeed employ an unusual rhyme scheme.
Such a wonderful personification of those blossoms! Excellent work, as always, Ms. Coats!
Thanks, Margaret! The blossoms, ideally, include our symbolized poetic spirits.
Margaret, so beautiful! Thank you. Your poem is a metaphor for me of the working of grace in a soul growing progressively closer to God and igniting the same in others.
Yes, that’s an interpretation of the lotus image, Gary. I’ve focused on creativity; human beings become creative because they are made in the image of the Creator. In practicing their arts, poets and creative artists, through their works, then convey grace and growth to others. Using the word “practicing” to refer to poetic creation, I intend also to recall the practice of meditation that helps the individual to make the spiritual progress you observe. Thanks for your comment!
This poem is lovely in its imagery and musicality, Margaret. I agree with Warren, that the rhyme scheme is fantastic and unique! Very song-like to my inner ear. Beautiful!
Thanks, Theresa! I’m grateful for praise of the poem’s musicality from such a musician as yourself. The rhyme scheme ababcbcb gives rhyme an important role in chiming the stanza together.
It’s a pleasure to find the lotus celebrated so beautifully in your poem. That splendid flower is one of the principal symbols of the Buddha, much admired in art and life. I’m glad to see that your admiration leads on, smoothly and eloquently, to enriched reflection. “Language-laden link” is excellent. The whole poem is decorous and refreshing.
Thank you very much, Bhikku Nyanasobhano. There is a certain responsibility in writing of a symbol so highly regarded through much of the world. I am honored by your favorable judgment of the poem’s beauty, language, thought, and in particular of its refreshing decorum.
It’s clear you’re an accomplished wordsmith from this poem alone. I really like “To decorate the language-laden link |
Between an image and interpretation.” Stunning and musical language here. Thank you!
Thank you, Scott, for reading and commenting!
I was intrigued by your use of “Nile blue”. According to Egyptian mythology, the Earth was shrouded in darkness, until the sun (i.e, the god Ra) emerged from a blue lotus of the Nile. Did you possibly have this in mind?
Yes! The lotus celebrated in Egypt is blue (because of ancient paintings as well as the story you mention), while in India the favored color is pink. According to my research, anyway. I’ve not been in either country, but I wanted to include these to suggest the very widespread esteem for the flower. From what I’ve actually seen, white is by far the most common color. But in a sunny scene like the one above, the white blossoms can look gold. Metalwork lotus flowers that appear gold are often seen in temples. Thanks for the comment and question, Cheryl.
Until I moved to Concord, MA, adjacent to the Great Meadows wildlife refuge, my only experience of the lotus was having eaten lotus root at a macrobiotic restaurant in Greenwich Village, NYC. At college, when many of my friends were getting into yoga, I was chagrined that I was unable to assume the lotus position — my legs just wouldn’t bend that way.
In what world does “profundity” rhyme with “immortality?”
Thank you for honor of your question, C. B. You’ve undoubtedly passed over dozens if not hundreds or thousands of imperfect rhymes, without addressing the poet on the subject–but you think I might have a worthwhile response, and I hope I do. “Profundity” and “immortality” rhyme in the World of Tea. Reading them only as words, and applying the rule that requires perfect rhyme to begin from the last accented syllable of a multisyllable word, pro-FUN-dih-tee does not rhyme with ih-mor-TA-lih-tee. The final syllables do rhyme, but they are not accented. What we have here, strictly speaking, is words that should “triple rhyme” perfectly on all three final syllables, but don’t.
Still, it is common practice among many writers of poetry to consider ANY English words ending in the long ee sound to rhyme. I consider this sloppy for two reasons. First, there is no consideration of accent. Second, a rhyme sound should consist of a vowel and a consonant. We understand this very well when a consonant is the final element of sound. After I observed good medieval French poets (for whom word accent has little importance) refusing to rhyme final vowels alone, the consonant-plus-vowel standard became my ideal in general.
Thus, “profundity” and “immortality” rhyme in the consonant-plus-vowel Realm of Tea because their final sound is “tee.” But what about word accent, which is important in English? In considering my poem, we are not discussing whether two words rhyme in the Dictionary World, but whether two words rhyme as used in “Lotus.” Is there evidence for “tee” being accented? Yes, the poem is almost perfectly iambic pentameter, and therefore the meter applies a light stress to the ending syllable. If this were not the case, I would need another word to follow these triple rhymes. As is, the lines would be tetrameter with only four stresses. But most readers are satisfied with the number of syllables, and make the slight final stress mentally. In addition, the long vowel syllable demands a little more time to say, and thus acquires something of an accent by means of quantity, which matters in English whether or not it be recognized.
These are acceptable rhymes in a stanza that needs four rhymes on their sound. I wanted “profundity” for the meaning, but had I tried triple rhymes, “fecundity” might have suited the stanza thought, but “jocundity” and “rotundity” would not. And the heavy effect would be most undesirable! As triple rhymes, NONE of the four in the stanza (tranquility, sensitivity, profundity, immortality) rhyme. Looking at them all, C. B., I think you singled out “profundity” because it is the most different. Ility, ivity, and ality could be okay, but UNDity takes that huge “quantity” of time to pronounce. A stand-out rhyme rather than a perfect one? The profound sound emphasizes depth of symbolism in the lotus. The poem’s rhyme among these four words relies on the slightly but clearly accented “tee” concluding words that don’t rhyme outside the poem.
So much for that! I think we’ve both been to the Omen restaurant in the Village, and I’ve also been to its central location near the Silver Pavilion in Kyoto. Lotus root, with its lacy look when sliced, looks pretty but needs flavor supplied by sauce or condiments. And I too am unable to assume the lotus position. It was as much as I could do to get comfortable in the tatami room at Omen. Hope you had a good time with all the macrobiotic fiber and freshness!
Margaret,
C.B. has called out imperfect rhymes many times. He set me straight in the comments on my poem “Mastering Magic” here:
https://www.classicalpoets.org/2020/05/mastering-magic-by-mike-bryant/
Here is part of his comment here:
He explained it perfectly! Was I perturbed? Sure! But I listened.
Mike, thank you for your story of learning how to rhyme perfectly. I do appreciate it, because in this poem of mine, I’m partly dealing with the social aspect of poetry writing. It’s great to have one member of the Society tell about learning from another.
However, I do want to make it clear that imperfect rhyme is not a sin or a crime. It is a set of several tools in the poet’s toolbox. Some of them have names, like “eye rhyme” for “love” and “cove” and “prove,” which don’t end with the same sound, but because of similar spelling are used as rhymes when a poet finds it artistically suitable. There’s also “identical rhyme,” when the poet rhymes a word with itself (“see” with “see”) or with a homonym (“see” with “sea”). This violates the rule for perfect rhyme given by Mr. Anderson above, namely that consonants preceding vowels of stressed syllables in rhyming words must be different. But poets use identical rhyme anyway. Sometimes it’s a good choice and sometimes the best.
My practice described above looks like identical rhyme, but it is something else because it involves an imperfect triple rhyme where the final syllable receives a slight stress from the meter. That comes close to making it a perfect rhyme, and it’s a perfect choice for “Lotus.”
I did a little experiment on use of imperfect rhyme by celebrated poets. I picked up my volume of “The Top 500 Poems,” which are the most anthologized in English. These 500 poems have been chosen by many editors as the most memorable in English literature. I opened the book at random, deciding I would check five poets in a row to see if there were any imperfect rhymes in their top poems. The five poets who came up were Thomas Campbell, Walter Savage Landor, Leigh Hunt, Lord Byron, and Clement Clark Moore. Moore’s only famous poem is “The Night Before Christmas,” and you’ve heard his imperfect rhyme of reindeer names, “Vixen” and “Blitzen.” Byron, Hunt, and Campbell also use imperfect rhymes in their most renowned poems. Landor is the only one of the five who does not. That doesn’t make him the best poet of them; it’s just that he is remembered only for “lapidary lyrics of irreducible perfection,” three of them totaling 16 lines. For that kind of poem, one needs perfect rhyme.
At Classical Poets, we use imperfect rhyme as the great poets did in their best poems. Not always in the best way, but we find it commonly among our online publications. I continued my experiment with a volume of the SCP Journal. Not surprisingly, two poets who first came up when I opened it at random were Salemi and Susan. Salemi rhymes “iambics” with “pricks.” Susan rhymes “fella” with “caterpillar.” These are “best of the year” choices for print publication with C. B. Anderson involved. Poets choose imperfect rhyme when it best fits the poem.
Hey Margaret, thanks for your story as well…
Yes, Joseph Salemi did rhyme “damn pricks” with “iambics” in his poem “The Unknown Circle of Hell” on 4/8/2020.
Susan has rhymed “fellas” with “umbrellas” in her poem, “In Plain Sight” SCP 9/4/2022.
She has also rhymed “fellas” with “Cinderellas” in “Grimm” SCP 6/22/2021.
She has rhymed “fella” with “dweller” (a perfect rhyme in the Queen’s English) in “Newspeak” on 10/16/2020.
And, yes, on 8/9/2020 Susan DID rhyme “caterpillar” with “fella” in “Rueing Tattoos.” But that was a long time ago, and Susan always points out that she learns every year!
Your poem here maintains the rhyme in the first two verses.
However your last verse really falls down with “tranquility“ rhyming with “sensitivity” and “profundity” rhyming with “immortality.”
I would hardly call either of those “imperfect” or even “near” rhymes.
tranquility – sensitivity
profundity – immortality
An “imperfect” rhyme or a “near” rhyme ideally should not be placed near the end of the poem. The way I see it, the last verse needs some work.
You may have read the specific things I wrote to Mr. Anderson, and my easy proof that imperfect rhyme is within English poetic tradition, and the comments of those below who approve “Lotus.” We have a difference of opinion, which I’m sure we can live with!
The poem that Margaret alludes to (“The Unknown Circle of Hell”) does not rhyme “iambics” with “pricks.” It rhymes “iambics” with “damn pricks.” Both lines end feminine, so the rhymes fall on the penultimate vowel in the first case, and on the stressed adjective in the second case.
Thank you for the clarification, Joseph. It is, therefore, an instance of rhyming AM-biks with AM-priks.
Thank you, Margaret, for this long response. You obviously have given much thought to the matter, and I dare say that I will have to read this response several more times before I understand it completely. Rhyme is a peculiar thing, and even the half=lotus position is not all that easy. I wish I had known you when we were both much younger. There would have been a lot to talk about.
Thank you, C. B. I wish the same, and perhaps we may still have an opportunity to meet.
C. B., I am disappointed this message did not restore the full comment I posted yesterday, and will have to ask Mike Bryant whether he can find, along with comments Mrs. Moore said she had posted from her rehab center. But the one to you was copied and will be forthcoming.
And here it is! I said above that we at the Society of Classical Poets very often use imperfect rhyme, as do poets writing in English throughout history, for which I cited a random sample from “The Top Five Hundred Poems,” an anthology of outstanding poems popular over a long period of time. Imperfect rhyme is not a flaw, but a regular tool in the poet’s toolbox. To show this is the case for our Society, I refer to the fourteen poets published online here during the week from October 24, 2025, through October 31, 2025. Of these fourteen, ten use imperfect rhyme, a majority similar in proportion to the four out of five among the historic poets. Of the four Classical Poets who did not employ imperfect rhyme (at least not among this small sample of poems), one chose to rhyme his poem xaxa, employing the freedom to use unrhymed lines alternately with rhymed ones. This is one way to avoid the charge of imperfect rhyme. Blank verse, with no rhymed lines, was another choice made in this sample, by a poet who made use of eye rhyme in a poem that did have rhyme. Most relevant to my practice in “Lotus” are two other poets who, during that one week, used as a rhyming syllable the “y” of a multisyllable word. Though this “y” might not carry any accent in ordinary speech or prose reading, both these poets relied on that final “y” as a syllable with accent supplied by the meter–as I did. These words cannot therefore be regarded as imperfect triple rhymes, for triple rhyme carries no accent on the final two syllables. The words I chose for the four “b” rhymes in the last stanza of “Lotus” each carry metrical accent on two or three syllables in the word. The rhyme in every case is the accented “y” of identical sound in a single syllable at the end of the line.
The only reason to regard this as imperfect rhyme is the abstract definition requiring different consonants to precede the vowel sound. One may accept this abstraction as a definition, yet refuse to regard it for aesthetic purposes. My four words all rhyme in “tee.” There is no sonic reason to call this imperfect, while accepting such words as “wallaby” and “synecdoche” as perfect rhymes for my choices, namely, “tranquility,” “sensitivity,” “profundity,” and “immortality.” The symmetry and beauty of identical sound conclude these words. That may be “imperfect” by a certain definition, but it is in fact ideal rhyme.
Margaret, your Lotus poem is so sweet. I always imagine that lotus flowers are accompanied by invisible faeries. I enjoyed the flow of your poem and the images it creates in my mind.
Thank you, Laura, for noting those effects. I’m very pleased. Wonder if the lotus made it into any of the old illustrated Flower Fairy books, where there would be a picture of your invisible fairies?
From ‘primeval’ beginnings to ‘immortality’ (almost biblical!), you have weaved a spiritual thread through this piece, Margaret, incorporating longer vocabulary items than perhaps most poets would use, with ease.
I also enjoyed the variety of the non-obtrusive alliteration, that flows so naturally in this piece.
Thanks for the read.
Thanks, Paul. “Lotus” does have quite a scope! I’m glad to have your opinion on the alliteration, namely, that varying the letter makes it flow naturally even in a poem where there is a fair amount of it. That’s what I remember from classic poetry studied in school. I think I’ve absorbed the technique without thinking of how to apply it, and I’m happy you enjoyed it here.
Gorgeous, Margaret, absolutely gorgeous. Your “blossoms affably exchange affection” reminded me of Wordsworth’s daffodils enjoying the air they breathe, and “every heart conceals a lotus bud” gave me a marvelous and sudden hope. But then, the whole poem did that. Beauty always gives me hope. Thank you so much. Hope all is well, Jeffrey
Jeffrey, I’m in awe of the varied effects you readers report. Thank you so much for describing what you thought and felt. All is well with me and I hope with you too!
The extented rhyme across lines 2, 4, 6 and 8 of each stanza is beautifully Spenserian in its musicality. Yours is an intriguing alternative to the Spenserian stanza as it also confines itself to three rhymes while tastefully stretching out one of them. The music of the extended rhyme is made more luxurious by the use of feminine rhyme and, in last stanza, four- and five-syllable words that subtly mimick feminine rhyme.
The abundance of polysyllabic words creates an exquisite texture, as in Keats’ “Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness […]”, and serves to elevate the tone of the rich alliteration. The general sentiment is also raised by careful inversion of word order.
Daniel, your familiarity with literary technique enables you to give succinct interpretive praise, for which I am most grateful. I would not have thought of describing this poem as one of “extended rhyme,” yet you define exactly what this means, and what it does for the beauty of the piece. I aimed here for rich texture, and your comparison to Keats lets me know the work is successful. I’m also happy to know you find “Lotus” elevated in tone and sentiment, for these help indicate the nature of poetic vocation suggested by the lotus as a symbol for creativity. This accords with the “lotus bud in every heart” universality of that Lotus Sutra quote, referring originally to the availability of Buddha nature, but also encouraging human beings to develop intrinsic capabilities as makers. Thank you!
As all above me, I found your poem beautiful and Evan has
partnered it with a graphic that almost matches its beauty.
I never knew that Lotus Blossoms were edible.
Thanks, jd. The illustration is gorgeous, and the many blossoms suit my consideration of the lotus from our Society of Classical Poets icon. My little tribute in the poem to Evan as our leader is the “emerald grace” of the last stanza, referring to his fine verses on the legendary Emerald Queen.
I don’t know of lotus blossoms actually being eaten anywhere, as chrysanthemums and cherry blossoms sometimes are in Japan. There are, however, the Lotos eaters in the Odyssey and in Tennyson’s poem by that name. They consume the flowers as a kind of narcotic causing forgetfulness and apathy. I don’t refer to that tradition here, preferring the Asian symbolism of creative life, purity, and wisdom. That goes back to the Egyptian creation myth alluding to the lotus as “first flower” in my first lines.
The lotus root is edible, and I’ve cooked it to produce an attractive dish from Japanese monastic cooking, which consists of thick white slices framing holes stuffed with sweet red bean paste. No effects good or bad noticed from eating it!
Margaret:
This is a well-crafted poem, with rich language and an interesting and subtle overall metaphor. You have written 3 stanzas of 8 lines each, with exact rhyme scheme(within each stanza—rhymes change in each stanza) a/b/a/b/c/b/c/b The first two stanzas use feminine b rhymes; the 3rd stanza use masculine b rhymes Besides careful formal structure, you have used exact rhymes and dense alliteration. Examples: “affably exchange affection”; “deafened depths of murky mud”; “many modes”; “pearl profundity paves.”
The overall metaphor is fascinating. Poetic creation is compared to a lotus plant, that grows in nutrient-rich shallow-pond mud. The top of the plant develops a flower that springs high above the pond-scum. The flower’s surface is glossy, to repel water and dirt. Therefore, to the human eye, it is always shining clean. Just so, the poet : “Escaping deafened depths of murky mud, poetic spirits cultivate creation.” This is a powerful metaphor, and an apt description of the poet’s creative process. I’m also intrigued by the poem’s definition of the essence of a poem, that is, a poem is a “language-laden link between an image and interpretation.”
I started thinking about creative endeavor as a kind of enlightenment/”forgetting”? The lotus is a common image in Eastern religions and mythology, where it signifies enlightenment, and often also creation and re-birth. This poem’s last two lines describe the lotus seed which “paves golden roads to wonder-filled abodes that seem to furnish immortality.” However, I note that in Homer’s Odyssey, the lotus is treated negatively. Odysseus lands on the land of the lotus-eaters, whose inhabitants eat the flower, which acts as a drug of forgetfulness. They live in a haze of laziness. Some of Odysseus’s men eat the flower, and then forget that they want to journey home. Odysseus has to drag those men off that island, in order to resume his journey. In this poem, the poet emphasizes the positive aspects of the lotus. That is, the lotus flower (a poem) is the beautiful fruit of poetry-making.
Well-done!
Sincerely,
Mary Jane
Thank you, Mary Jane, for your generous writing of a brief essay on the poem! I love the conclusion that “Lotus” is a beautiful fruit ripened from blossoms representing the poetry-making work of the plant.
With your personal idea of creative endeavor as “forgetting,” you’ve suggested to me the best of thoughts connecting the Odyssey tradition of Lotos eaters to the Buddhist concept of the lotus flower as enlightenment. In Buddhism, suffering comes from desires, and the devout practitioner must struggle to rid himself of desire, in order to reach enlightenment and a nirvana of no suffering. That’s an oversimplified statement, but in essence, it requires purification, rising above the mud as does the lotus blossom. The mud is dirty with desires, but I’ve called it as well “deafened,” a place where there are no words and thus no poetic work can be done. That’s stretching a symbol, since there is indeed dirty or flawed poetry, but artistic effort could be said to lead to light. However, total enlightenment without worldly desires represents forgetting such mental acts. Nirvana is untroubled by them.
What does this mean about the Lotos eaters? They are satisfied with no desire to return home or do work necessary to reach that destination. They are not, however, in the best of conditions. They can only get there by abandoning the lotus and doing what needs to be done. It’s easy to see what this implies to the energetic Greeks, and to the businesslike, empire-building Victorians for whom Tennyson retold the tale from the Odyssey. The positive, purifying aspect of the lotus is what’s needed, but that doesn’t belong to the Western view of it. Poets are useless dreamers.
We’ve heard that. I think I’ll just leave matters there for now, at least.
A deeply pensive work about one of my favorite flowers. I love your reference to the Egyptian creation myth right at the start, and you later give a nod to the Indian lotus alongside the Egyptian. Your emphasis on the lotus’s association with contemplation is in perfect harmony with the work’s tone, which flows gently and seems to instruct.
You have a tripartite ode form, so I’m curious: why did you choose not to address the flower in the second person?
Thanks for your reading and response, Adam. Although “Lotus” has three parts, it’s an emblem poem, selectively exploring symbolism, rather than an ode of praise addressing the flower. Having been very much occupied for several months with other important duties, I write it in the joy of again contributing more to the Society of Classical Poets, where our icon is a lotus above a book of pages turning. Since the Society is international, with a “soft spot” of attention to China, I glance at many meanings of the lotus, focusing on poetic creativity. The poem does begin with the ancient first flower of Egyptian creation myth, as you notice, but turns toward ideas from Buddhism, while alluding to the Society motto of 3 R’s: rhyming, rapturous, rhythmical. The poem moves through a process toward possible immortality. Its perspective is one of individuals within an artistic society. I’m happy that so many different views have emerged from more than twenty members and subscribers commenting!
You’re right that what I’ve written would befit an ode of praise, but there’s a world of meaning in the lotus, and much remains available for anyone like yourself who loves the flower to compose a distinctively different one!
This is a wonderful poem about a much-loved flower. I read through the comments about imperfect rhymes and your response. Both very informative and educational. I found the slight imperfection in the rhymes of the last verse perfect because they were imperfect – if that makes sense. They reminded me of a pond of lotuses each alike and yet so individual in their slight differences. Thank you for a wonderful read.
Rohini, thank you very much for appreciating the flower poem itself, and for paying attention to what I said about the carefully chosen rhymes. You make sense when you find perfection in the slight imperfections. That’s how we treasure many beautiful individuals we encounter, who like a pond of lotuses are similar and yet have unique qualities!
I echo all the praise of the above commenters, there is nothing I can add.
This sublime poem reminded me very much of the famous ‘Flower Duet’ from the opera Lakme by Leo Delibes. A fine recording sung by Dame Joan Sutherland is here:
https://youtu.be/nxg1zlAawoY?si=zj05ijk2ncHHWAZm
How delightful to hear from you, Ben! A little attention from a friend is precious. Thanks for the musical recommendation; I’ll listen to it.