Pink Roses
By Claire Griffiths
"A poem about legacy, femininity, and innocuous acts of resistance in a world that sneers at women. It's also about tea."
Once a year we wash the china
Delicate like memory
Soap suds cover bright pink roses
Family friends come round for tea.
Teacups clink on gold rimmed saucers
Mum makes scones with jam and cream
Hand-embroidered table runners
Echoes of a living dream.
Sometimes there is cake or pikelets,
Often there is fruit and cheese
Spread across the fine bone roses
With options of assorted teas.
Though it’s quite a lot of hassle
It connects us to the past
Though I never met the women
China, and their handwork, lasts.
Butterflies in whitework dancing
Blackwork friends are drinking tea
Old farmstead in cross stitch standing
Stories that are passed to me.
Life is always crazy busy
Never time for hosting tea
But once a year we make the time for
Old-style glamour, company.
From the author:
I always identified as a writer, but the onset of chronic illness in my early teens stripped me of the ability to string a coherent sentence together. Many years, and many weird treatments later, I’m back in the world of language and finding my way back to writing. I love writing poetry for its capacity to articulate things you didn’t know you needed to say.
- Claire Griffiths, McLeans Ridges, NSW
This is when we ask the questions
This is when the tales are told
Still we don’t put pen to paper
Each retelling plays a role.
Op shops fill with china teacups
Doilies and embroideries
Forgotten women fade to nothing
Dust in long dead memory.
Great grandma’s china has pink roses
Golden edges, small green leaves
And once a year, mum tells us stories
Links us to that legacy.
I don’t remember all the details
I do remember drinking tea
It’s odd how even guests connect to
Teacups and embroidery.
There something bold in bright pink roses
Claiming femininity
In a world that’s scared of women
We gather here for scones and tea.
You can be both brave and fearful
You can be both weak and strong
You can sew and love pink roses.
Being female isn’t wrong.