[Many thanks to Uma for the beautiful photograph. Uma is a wonderful writer (and photographer).
The form selected for this week is an adaptation of the Vietnamese Luc bat. It is an adaptation of the poetic form because Vietnamese is a tonal language and it cannot be imitated in English. The syllable count and the rhyming pattern have been adhered to!]
The dahlia opens slow
before it makes a show, bright red,
and then the full-faced head
bends down towards its bed and bows;
as if to say the hours
of fleeting life somehow are short.
Its beauty comes to naught
as petals fall uncaught and die.
Some say each flower shall leave
a cob, a pod of seeds, a cone,
from which will spring the bones
of new flowers, new fruit, grown; and yet,
lest ever I forget,
my death shall not beget new grain
to grow in hope, in pain,
in love, in loss, in gain, in joy.
To hear the poem read aloud click HERE.
Weave a Web 
It’s a beautiful poem Bruce. It gives me a sense of calm.
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Thanks, Nitin. Much appreciated. (And I got your email thanks.) Yes, I think it is a very calm poem!
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That was lovely. A pleasure to read.
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Thank you. That is greatly appreciated.
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The flower and the poem are a “thing of beauty, is a joy forever”. Loved this poem Bruce.
I read your poem and went into the backyard to put the washing on the line and saw my Zucchini with five or six golden yellow flowers
Truer words never spoken
Some say each flower shall leave
a cob, a pod of seeds, a cone,
from which will spring the bones
of new flowers, new fruit, grown;
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Thank you, Shubha. I am experiencing a zucchini glut – time to make and freeze the ratatouille for winter I think – with all the left overs in the garden! This year I tried a new variety – they are bright yellow zucchinis (the fruit as well as the flower).
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Are the yellow ones tasty? I’ve only eaten ( and I love them in raita or in stir fry or in Pulao) the dark green ones
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The yellow ones are a novelty (like the coloured silverbeet) but personally I prefer my green vegies green! They taste the same.
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That is a stunning poem, Bruce. First, the gorgeous blooming and equally graceful fading of the dahlias hint at the impermanence of beauty and speak about Nature’s cycles too. The imagery serves as a contrast to underscore the poet’s mortality in the following stanza, devoid of the regenerative window. Let me say this, Bruce: our words are the dahlias we will leave behind as buds.
It is an achingly glamourous, sad and lyrical poem. It’s appeal is immediately universal, but it does emit the scent of the format you have chosen. I am proud my picture was chosen to grace this beauty.
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Thanks so much, Uma, and thanks too for the use of the photo.
I’m not 100% sure as to how true I am to the Vietnamese form, but I’ve found that it seems to (as you say) have it’s own scent – which I think is true for most tried and true poetic forms.
I’m trying to compose a Luc Bat each week for February. The next one (next Thursday) is my favourite. By then we will have had the treat of Part 3 (the conclusion) of your blog story!
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Today, as I walked past the dahlia whose youth has been frozen forever at your blog, it smiled. I look forward to reading your favourite Luck bat next week.
The conclusion is truly waiting in the wings, and in spite of grave temptations, I have resisted changing the end.
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Beautifully done, Bruce, and Uma. The rhyme works well
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Thanks, Derrick.
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Beautiful poem and stunning photo. Thank you for bringing a little gorgeous to my day.
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Thank, Nanette.
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Beautiful Bruce, it has a sense of tranquillity and inevitability about it.
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Thank you. If it’s not self-indolent to have favourites then this is a favourite!
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