These bright, brash plants standing
tall have no pretence.
They are what they are,
and don’t deny it.
Fields of them line the
French roadsides. Striking and
purposeful, they are not to be
Even their small siblings,
the ones bought in pots from
florists and garden-centres
These plants are not shrinking-
violets. You will not find them
cowering in shade or damp woodland;
they are showy, proud, in your face,
demanding to be seen.
If sunflowers could speak,
They would be loud, outspoken,
heard above the crowd,
unable to help themselves.
sunflowers are silent, intent
on following the sun,
looking for love; and
all the while in that beautiful head,
Fibonacci numbers are calculated,
seeds plotting their spiral patterns.
“Helianthus” previously appeared in The Poetry Shed.
Margaret Holbrook lives in Cheshire, UK, where she writes poetry, plays and fiction. Her work has appeared widely online and in print including publications such as Jellyfish Whispers, The Poetry Shed, Schooldays, Best of British, Orbis, The Journal. Her latest poetry collection, Not Exactly Life was published in September 2017 and all the poetry features women; from life, fiction, film and history. ‘Where else,’ she says, ‘would Lucrezia Borgia, Jean Harlow and my mum all appear in the same volume?’ Find out more at www.margaretholbrookwrites.weebly.com.