Tag Archives: #Triffids

The wild flowers

The wild flowers were livid;

they were all of a tizz;

because someone had told them,

that, ‘Pedigree is the bizz.’


‘We are as good as them,

if not better!’ they cried.

‘We can grow in places,

where they’ve wilted and died.


We look as pretty

as any fine flora,

have you seen how we flourish,

we have many an adorer.’


‘A weed has never won

at the Chelsea Flower Show;

and from your lowly status,

you can’t expect to grow.’


At this, the weeds became

even more livid,

and brought in a cousin,

‘Introducing our Triffid!’


There was no contest,

weeds came out on top,

but it’s a shame that the Triffid

didn’t know when to stop.

When the Triffid came to tea

It was a Thursday, at a half past three,

when the Triffid came to tea;

I’d baked a cake, and made some scones.

It wasn’t all that hungry,

as it had already eaten,

and sucked on some bones;

so it just had a – single – scone.


‘Jam first, and ‘then’ the cream!’

I softly admonished.


‘Sorry.’ clacked the Triffid,

somewhat astonished;

‘I’ve just come from Devon;

and there they put the cream on first;

your rules they really make me numb.’

Then, it downed a barrel of cider,

to quench a thirst.


‘Not to worry.’ I calmly replied,

‘Anything else to eat?

There must be a little room left inside.’


‘I do eat meat.’ the Triffid clacked,

‘That’s something that your table lacked.’


‘Sorry, no, we have not meat,

no piggy’s oink,

no baa lamb’s bleat;

no meat at all,

for Vegans are we.’


And so

the Triffid

ate us,

for its tea.

The biggest aspidistra in the world

We had, in our garden,

the biggest aspidistra I have ever seen,

possibly the biggest aspidistra in the world.

I’d heard Our Gracie singing about hers,

but that was a made-up one,

mine’s for real.

So, I got the experts round,

Walter and Bill,

they had a good look,

or they would have done,

if it had been there still;

but, it must have been stolen,

or gone off on its hols,

for, today, it wasn’t there.

So, we told all the people,

‘Avoid it, take care,

it might try to kill you,

and feast on your flesh,

when your flesh it has softened,

in a week’s time or two.’


And they said,

‘We’ll avoid it when we see it,

we are smart as can be,

we’re lucky to have good eyesight

an aspidistra to see.’

Which was all very well

for a few months or so,

until one May night…

… the sky put on a show.

“The Triffids are coming along nicely!”

The crop was ripening well,

but time would tell

if they were equal to the hype,

when ripe,

that Umberto Christoforo Palanguez

had given them.

If Triffids are sentient beings…

If Triffids are sentient beings,

then we just shouldn’t tap them for oil,

they shouldn’t be captive,

or ignored with neglect;

but left free in herds all to roam,

treated with respect,

and with kindness,

and not tethered outside of your home.


For who could not love a Triffid,

with its exuberant, carefree attitude;

and it’s cruel to hurt their feelings,

more than that, it’s rude.


Okay, so they might sting you,

and drink from your body in time,

but a Triffid must do what a Triffid must do,

and it’s natural for them, not a crime.


So, loose the Triffid captives,

untie their tethers and let free,

a Triffid deserves to be able

to sup on its prey for its tea.

“And wake, sleeping bulbs!”

And wake, sleeping bulbs,

bursting forth with green shoots

of Triffid-like form.

Chapter 2: The Coming of the Triffids

Triffids are as unlikely,

or as likely,

a creature to exist, as any other.

Though the fact that they should bear some resemblance

to the few carnivorous plants that there are,

and that they are so inclined to perambulate

in search of human flesh,

is something that doesn’t bear a lot of thought.

Thinking about how they arrived upon this planet,

it is less through the comets’ antics,

and more about the designs of Mankind

to create a super-oil producing vegetable.

Or so the story goes.

Seeds, stolen from the Russians (allegedly)

were scattered upon the four winds (I thought there were more) and found their way to the four corners of the world (I thought there were fewer). Thus were sown the seeds, literally, for Mankind’s downfall.

If only they could have seen that.

Chapter 1: The End Begins

Whether it is the beginning of the end,

or the end of the beginning,

I can only say that,

it began to end

on Tuesday, 7th May,

in a year unspecified*,

with green flashes in the sky,

possibly from comets

passing by –

possibly not.

Anyway, that was when

it all began,

to end.

*1901, 07, 12, 18, 29, 35, 40, 46, 57, 63, and 68

are possible years

in the last century,

when this fictional tale

may have taken place;

but, only if you infuse –

or use –

a little reality

into proceedings.

Do the Triffid Shuffle?

It gave me the option

to shuffle

the seventeen audiobook episodes

of ‘The Day of the Triffids’

by John Wyndham.

How that would have effected the outcome

of the story,

I am not sure,

but, I think that

maybe ending on a Wednesday

that seemed more like a Sunday

than Sunday itself,

is a fine place to end…

or maybe not.

Triffid numbers

Friday, June 17th.

With five triffids awaiting us at the front of the house, and one solitary fellow at the rear, we have become something of a cooped goose. We can still look out at them enquiringly from behind our upstairs windows, but feel that their presence, and their depth of patience, will outlast our limited food supplies. They are already mounting pressure upon the wooden porch that precursors access to the rest of the house – ‘How long will that stand against their efforts? is a question that we are continuously asking ourselves.