the Wordsworth of Weeds


I read somewhere that weeds are the rodents of the plant world,

that they are sneakily aggressive, opportunistic, fiercely feral,

that they should be weeded out. I have heard this language before;

little good comes from it. Where are the Wordsworths of Weeds?

Plath comes closest, celebrating mushrooms. I like the strange,

tangled beauty of weeds, their punk swagger, their dogged persistence.

They too one day might inherit the earth.


11 thoughts on “the Wordsworth of Weeds

  1. This made me think of the killer by Judith Wright. Which could have also been named the weed in my opinion. I attached the first two stanzas below.

    The day was clear as fire,
    the birds sang frail as glass,
    when thirsty I came to the creek
    and fell by its side in the grass.

    My breast on the bright moss
    and shower-embroidered weeds,
    my lips to the live water
    I saw him turn in the reeds.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. thanks for this; it brought back memories — LAwrence wrote a poem very similar — we were taught it at high school and when I became an English teacher I taught it, and other of her poems, to my Year 10’s and 11’s. I wonder if she is still taught at high school in Australia?


  3. So-called “weeds” have suffered the most virulent types of bullying and discrimination! We smugly declare our love of nature, then we castigate and banish her most persistent children. Odd that we use the phrase “weed the garden” to mean “remove the weeds.” Deceptive. Sounds like we are adding them not subtracting them.

    Liked by 1 person

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