The Red Flower

Little poppies, little hell flames, Do you do no harm?

Fire is a symbol that I hesitate to use freely in my poems, because, along with the sea and the wind, fire creates a basic picture that people have observed and talked about for generations, seemingly from every angle imaginable. There is a danger in ‘defaulting’ to familiar images and limiting creativity (and intrigue) in the process. Yet, in continuing to explore this basic element, and contrast it to so many different “tenors,” we unconsciously create a web of symbols across time, place, and culture, which I think is quite amazing.

The use of fire in this poem reminded me of the following quote from Frankenstein, by the monster, on discovering an abandoned campfire:

I […] was overcome with delight at the warmth I experienced from it. In my joy I thrust my hand into the live embers, but quickly drew it out again with a cry of pain.

Fire creates a tension, where the fire-wielder has both a fear and an admiration of the same entity. This age-old ambivalence is prepared in ‘Poppies in July’ through the first line, introducing us to one of the two central symbols of the poem. As the poem develops this metaphor, we will see many facets of fire intertwine with the floral subject to portray a complex emotion for the speaker.

She begins with a question to the flowers, which respond through their shifting in the wind. She asks them if they are a threat, and they respond with silent motion. There is a distance implied between the speaker and the flowers, through the plural form “poppies”, the word “little”, and the fact that this interaction begins with an unanswered question of perceived threat. Immediately following this, the speaker decides to physically touch the fire, closing the distance. This couplet is quite interesting, as the two lines seem to completely contradict each other: in line $3$, the speaker concludes that physical is impossible, yet the very next line shows that “Nothing burns” on contact. This resolution is short-lived, however, and we see the flickering flames continue to unsettle the speaker in lines 5 and 6, exhausting her in a manner which echoes the poem ‘Tulips’, where a hospital patient’s discomfort with the “excitable” red tulips is a central motif.

In the next lines, Plath makes a shift. The red that was previously compared to fire is now compared to a lipstick-covered mouth, before rapidly and fluidly switching to a menstrual metaphor:

…wrinkly and clear red, like the skin of a mouth.
A mouth just bloodied.
Little bloody skirts!

The bridge between the two lines is fascinating, simultaneously connecting the lipstick and menstruation to a complex picture of injury. The result is a rekindled (pun intended) sense of danger as well as an exploration of what these flowers and related feminine symbols represent in the first place. Where the redness of lipstick is an intentionally outward-facing sign; the redness of menstruation can be thought of as an unintentional or “disgraceful” one, as emphasised by the exclamation mark. With this lens, the lipstick-red poppies are shamed for their association to menstruation. The speaker seems to be viewing feminine displays of beauty as parallel to the biological nature of bleeding, and both of these, the beauty and the biology, are exhausting to watch.

The rapid transitions between images also forces the reader to view them all as one unit, rather than thinking of any image in isolation - the pace is simply too fast for this. There is also no resolution of the tensions between these images, just as there is no resolution for the energetic, attractive, terrifying fire. This tension is simply placed in front of us to be viewed. The flowers are simply on the grass to be viewed.

I love that Plath is able to see something as simple as flowers in a field, and infuse them with such energy and depth and cohesion that we feel like we were watching the flowers sway with her, and feeling and thinking and being, all right alongside her.

Drifting off

Poppy seeds are the source of opium, a drug used both as a narcotic and for pain-relieving medications; therefore, it is no surprise to see the wide range of instances where the flowers are associated with sleep$^1$. The connection appears in the sleep-inducing poppy field of The Wizard of Oz, where Dorothy is put to sleep by their scent. These associations also appear in ancient mythology, where the flowers were associated with sleep-adjacent gods such as Morpheus and Hypnos.

There are fumes that I cannot touch.

The poem’s second half presents a longing. There is a clear tonal shift as we lose the energy from the previous outburst. After touching the exposed fire and having nothing happen, the speaker switches to a different desire, that of complete peace. Having expanded on the red, fiery petals from a distance, she examines the flowers up close, looking for the poppy seeds (and the opium within them). Plath repeats the exact phrasing of “I cannot touch” now with building disappointment. This dejection grows into desperation in the next line, as she asks her second question to the flowers:

Where are your opiates, your nauseous capsules?

She wants what the flowers seem to be hiding: the opportunity to “bleed, or sleep.” This energetic build culminates in the line “If my mouth could marry a hurt like that!” which connects both to the idea of feminine roles and images through the idea of marriage and kissing (and lipstick), while also solidifying her desire to be fully united to this peacefulness, even if the entry is potentially painful. As the poem draws to a close, the rhythm slows significantly. The plosives in “hurt like that” give way to repeated s sounds, and this couplet is the first in a while to be one long sentence. The line “dulling and stilling” is particularly rhythmic, almost sleepy, perfectly coinciding with the desire of the speaker.

Inherent within poppies is a contrast between the peace of sleep and the bright, distracting red. So, for the final movement of the poem, the speaker makes a determined rejection of the flower’s vivid colour, desiring a fully peaceful rest.

Or your liquors seep to me, in this glass capsule,
Dulling and stilling.
But colourless. Colourless.

This line begins with a small burst of energy and dissonance, both through the double plosives (‘b’ and ‘t’) and through the fact that the previous line had ended its sentence, meaning this phrase now acts as a minor sentence. This creates a small, final burst of energy, as the speaker demands this final request.

That colourlessness should be the final goal is a natural conclusion from the speaker’s grievances. Redness is everything difficult about the world; colourlessness is the lack of such exhausting colours. There is an interesting comparison in that when the flowers were energetic, wearing down her energy in the process (“it exhausts me”) she was disappointed, yet her deepest desire is to sleep. In this sense, it seems she is not against energy, but rather has too little of it to be able to use it on anything. She needs to receive sleep and stillness, temporary or otherwise, as repose from her hectic world.

In closing, the repetition in the word ‘colourless’ allows the sibilant ‘s’ and liquid ‘l’ to soften the end of the line, and by extension, the poem too. This repetition also nicely conveys the idea of drifting to sleep – with nothing more to be said, the poem fades out quietly.

The colour of Ariel

Colour is likely the most accessible key with which to understand this collection; nearly every poem in ‘Ariel’ contains an explicit mention to either ‘white’, ‘red’, or ‘black’ (skimming a random two-page spread, you are very likely to find one of these). Since the distribution of colours closely matches exactly the relative distributions of colour words around 1945-1965, I doubt that Plath set out to use any specific colours in revolutionary ways throughout this collection. It is nonetheless clear that she uses colours intentionally throughout this poem. White consistently connects to an ideal peacefulness, red consistently acts as a disruption for this. Of course, on one hand these are general associations of these colours (white is the blank-slate, perfect, pure colour, and red is the colour of blood), but I think the way these basic associations present themselves across this collection allow the colours to take a richer character, which we see signs of in today’s poem.

Final Thoughts

In response to the question, “Would poetry be more elective, i.e. interest more people more profoundly, if it were concerned with the issues of our time?” Plath writes:

“Surely the great use of poetry is its pleasure – not its influence as religious or political propaganda. Certain poems and lines of poetry seem as solid and miraculous to me as church altars or the coronation of queens must seem to people who revere quite different images.”

I think this is a great lens through which to view this poem, with all its turns and contrasts. The ride we go on as readers is controlled, not to convince the reader of anything, like perhaps an essay would, but rather to present something of value to the reader. In her reverence for poetry, Plath seems to conclude that to view poetry as just commentary would be akin to viewing religion and politics as solely functional. A belief in monarchy, a loyalty to a deity, these things are all deeply personal, no matter how propagandistic they might lean at times.

In reading this poem, I was amazed to see how effective repetition was. So many lines act as call-and-response pairs by simply repeating a word. I’m now on the lookout for ways I can create similar effects.

In music theory there is a concept known as ‘Harmonic Rhythm,’ where rather than simply observing when we hear notes played (in a binary sense of sound vs silence), we also observe when the chords change, meaning even if the rhythm is otherwise constant, the feel of the song can vary widely between stasis and shakiness. I think I’ve seen a parallel in poetry with ‘Poppies in July,’ where a high concentration of images creates a busier, faster feel that I suspect could feel disorienting and amateurish if handled carelessly, but becomes a powerful tool if handled with care. ‘Symbolic Rhythm’ is going in my analytical and creative toolkit for sure.

Notes

I omitted Remembrance Day symbolism from this list because that symbol isn’t linked to the seeds but rather the re-emergence of the flowers themselves. It is interesting that both cases skirt around the same general theme regardless.

References

Plath, S. (2010). Ariel. Faber And Faber. (Original work published 1965)
Loft, Z. (2025, November 7). Archive | A 1962 Survey of Poets - The London Magazine. The London Magazine. https://thelondonmagazine.org/archive-a-1962-survey-of-poets/
Shelley, M. (1818). Frankenstein. Lackington, Hughes, Harding, Mavor & Jones.
Larrissy, E. (2003). Poetry and Gender. A Companion to Twentieth‐Century Poetry, 101–112. Portico. https://doi.org/10.1002/9780470998670.ch9
Sedgwick, I. (2024, June 8). Poppy Folklore: The Symbol of Sleep, Death, War, and…Love? - Icy Sedgwick. Icy Sedgwick. https://www.icysedgwick.com/poppy-folklore/