A journal asked for haiku submissions with the traditional 5/7/5 syllable count, and including the Spring word 'tulip.' But it's Autumn in Australia, and I'm not very motivated to submit to journals anyway. However, the word did spark memories of things my late second husband Willem Johan Nissen, known as Bill (my longest marriage; father of my children) told me of his early years in Holland and arrival in Australia.
Photo by Ingrid de Kort, used with permission
pictures of tulips –
my mind flies to that Dutchman
my late ex-husband
tulips and canals
bring recollections of war
and occupation
tulips … tiptoe through
memories of Dutch childhood
during the war years
tulips not mentioned
he whispers tales of horror –
occupied Holland
tulips are not food –
green roadside weeds and grasses
served during the war
the land of tulips –
growing up in a fortress
Naarden's star-shaped walls
tulips or wattles –
arriving at fifteen, soon
a dinkum Aussie
tulips didn’t grow
in the migrant encampment
among metal huts
tulips left behind
along with soccer training,
he tried Aussie Rules
I'm sharing this with Poets and Storytellers United for Friday Writings #119: In Memoriam. It's quite coincidental, and most serendipitous, that I posted the above, which so well fits the prompt, only two days ago.
I never think of men and Tulips being bosom friends but why not? The aurs here smells of love. Bil was a handsome looking fellow per his photo. Nicely written.
ReplyDeleteJim
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Yes, he was a handsome fellow. Tulips are such a symbol of Holland, as wattles are for Australia. And although I never managed to get there myself, still Holland will always be associated for me with that man.
DeleteYou could still go to Holland, clock ticks. It is a lovely place, entirely different than Australia.
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Alas, I have physical conditions – and financial ones fior that matter – which rule out travel for me nowadays. But TV and the internet have made armchair travelling a rich experience.
DeleteThis is such a great set...war and migration are images one doesn't see with tulips generally. OK so I learnt "fair dinkum" from Aussie cricket commentators while watching live broadcasts... smiled when I saw it ...and I could almost hear the sound of bat on ball!!!! :)
ReplyDelete*Smile.*
DeleteA handsome Dutchman it is and I can relate a lot to this poem. My husbands dad came to NZ after the war. They received a free ticket from the Dutch government and could go to Australia, NZ or Canada. I know Naarden but never went there. I heard that they had to eat tulips in that part of the country in the hunger winter before they were freed. I never went to the tulip fields but our markets sell bucket and buckets full of them.
ReplyDeleteAh, so I am wrong in saying they weren't food. Bill's older brother used to go out (at the age of 7) riding miles on his bike to find those roadside weeds and (uncultivated) grasses when vegetables weren't available.
DeleteLast comment was from Marja Dutchcorner. I have problems with blogger
ReplyDeleteThanks, Marja. I probably would have guessed this time, but it's good to know for sure.
DeleteEasy to see how you fell in love. Such an endearing handsome face and interesting historical context. Never before have I associated tulips with war.
ReplyDeletePerhaps the tulips could be seen as more of a contrast to war and privation.Mainly, for me, they signify that country, and therefore that man. I knew in a general way of his childhood in occupied Holland before we married, but it was only some months after our wedding that one night something triggered an outpouring of the traumatic recollections, which went on for hours, all in whispers.I had enough sense to just shut uo and listen until he got it all out. After that he stopped having dreams that made him twitch in his sleep or startle and cower when a plane went over,
DeleteThis is lovely - My wife loves tulips and the carpets of them in Holland - I can feel the love.
ReplyDeleteThey must be enchanting indeed!
DeleteWattles seem a far cry from tulips. What a tough acclimation for your Dutchman, a handsome fella. I agree, the connective image of tulips with war and encampment is not one we often see. I especially like your next to last stanza. I think nothing could grow in such a place. Our writing is often serendipitous.
ReplyDeleteYes, I think there are many contrasts between Holland and Australia. Bill took readily to the Aussie informality; it suited him.
DeleteThough in memorium but the poem is contemporary considering the war ravaged earth that we live in. When beautiful places are devastated and people we live are taken away from us as a result of enmity between countries we have nothing but sighs of wistful memories left.
ReplyDeleteYes. Knowing how traumatic it was for Bill to live that childhood, I can only shudder at how much more horrific still are the conditions endured in contemporary war zones. I doubt if there are even green weeds to feed families in Gaza.
DeleteI didn't know about the Australian connection to wattles before today. It's sweet that seeing tulips brings back memories of your late husband.
ReplyDeleteAustralia's national flower is the golden wattle, and that's one of several reasons our colours for international sporting teams are green and gold.
DeleteOne good thing about getting old are the memories that warm us and keep loved ones near to heart.
ReplyDeleteIndeed yes!
DeleteLove your clever strands of memories associated with Bill and tulips. I agree that he's a handsome man.
ReplyDeleteAnna:o]
Thanks, I'm glad you enjoyed the way this came together.
DeleteHe looks handsome, but frazzled, and no wonder. Hard to live with, though easy to be friendly with. One can live comfortably on 'weeds' and scarce game for a long time. There are aftereffects...
ReplyDelete"memories of Dutch childhood
growing up during the war
tulips not mentioned"
says a lot.
There;s truth in this comment; thanks.
DeleteBill's such a handsome fellow. He's built for Aussie Rules.
ReplyDeleteIt's these little memories that give us smiles sometimes.
I have not been to Naarden on my recent Netherlands trip. Being to over 20 cities and towns, but not there. If I can afford it I will go visit again. :)
Unfortunately he was no great success playing Aussie Rules, though in Holland he was being groomed to be a goalkeeper for the national soccer team. Nevertheless he embraced Aussie culture, and adopted Essendon as the AFL team he followed forever after. (Mine's Carlton, since long before I met him, but we didn't have serious disagreements about it as some couples do.) He still followed soccer as well; we used to watch the FA Cup on TV. (His team was Arsenal; I liked Manchester United.)
DeleteApparently Naarden is very picturesque.
wow, being groomed for the Dutch National soccer team, that's really awesome.
DeleteI used to support Liverpool and Arsenal but since the tv subscription rates are so high now for soccer events, they have lost a supporter. :)
I don't watch any more, either. But like the rest of Australia I was glued to the set last year to cheer the Matildas on.
DeleteAn engaging collection that make a lovely and loving memory.
ReplyDeleteThank you!
DeleteA beautiful, moving poem. "... not food," and some of the comments made me think of my mother's "Letter to My Children," she left (about how she met my father, their early marriage, etc.) and how they would walk down the highway looking for lettuce that fell off the trucks (this was in the lettuce growing area of California). Certainly not the extend of suffering your late ex and so many other experienced, I was just reminded of it.
ReplyDeleteI'm pleased my piece reminded you. It sounds as if your parents, if not suffering, at least had some trouble making ends meet in their early days – and that they were resourceful.
DeleteThese are wonderful! What a handsome guy.
DeleteYes he was. And I'm glad you like the verses.
DeleteThank you for giving me the url of this poem.
ReplyDeleteI am in tears.
You commented about searching for food.
My gram had 7 children. They lived in Nijmegen, which was officially not part of the hunger winter. The oldest needed to search for food each day. They were the lucky ones as they knew where they could find vegetables at the side of a former farmfield, hidden under the trees. The farmer tolerated them taking what they needed for a day, because he was in the resistance too.
Family above the bridges suffered real hunger. An aunt lived in the west of the country, where most tulips grow. They ate tulips. In fact they ate the old bulbs.
Glad you both settled in Australia well.
A young couple of my family went. They got their oldest in Australia, but they never were able to create a future and went back.
The poem has touched me deeply.
Thank you!!!
Hugs
I'm so glad I had that impulse to share it with you!
DeleteBill was only a little boy in the war. His father was in the Dutch resistance. The family came to Australia when he was 15. I'm Australian by birth, and know these things in the poem only because he told me them – and much more.
Experienes like war and destruction make an everlasting impression. Also on the family. Age doesn't matter. The very young can't put the words to their feelings. Sometimes they stay in them all their life.
DeleteDue to the bad weather the tulips finsihed flowering this weekend.
But next year, when those yellow tulips flower again I will think of you and Bill.
So far away and s close to my heart.
Love and blessings to you! Another lovely connection through poetry.
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