Cycad Susurrations
A poem about a houseplant? Seriously? Well, it is a pretty remarkable houseplant…
My original work, “Cycad Susurrations,” is indeed a short poem inspired by one of my own potted plants, the mysterious and sinister Sago palm. This plant is a cycad – of the genus Cycas in the plant family Cycadaceae (one of the three extant families within the ancient order Cycadales). Cycads have existed on Earth since the time before the dinosaurs, and they’ve witnessed the dawn of humankind and the rise and fall of civilizations. They possess certain weaponry that makes them entirely impervious to assault from any and all animalian predators: a neurotoxin that can kill any creature that has a spinal column, and a set of specific genes they’ve acquired from a deadly microbial organism, and which they’ve incorporated into their own DNA, that enables them to produce an insecticidal toxin that’s deadly to all potential insectile assailants. Individual plants can live well over 2,000 years, and they grow very, very slowly. With their grim, broad-spectrum death-dealing capabilities, and their more than 320 million years of experience living essentially unchanged on the face of planet Earth, they can afford to take their time…
By John G. Stamos
Cycad Susurrations
John G. Stamos
Implacable scion, you live as my guest
In a flower pot,
In my house,
On my breakfast bar’s counter
During the winter…
But the things that you’ve seen,
Through the memories of your race,
Render my house and my breakfast bar
And me
A trifle.
Your power, what you can do,
Allows perspective
And indulgence.
You’ve known Triceratops and Smilodon and
Have bested them.
The house is mine, and the breakfast bar, but
I am paltry
Beside you, beside your kind.
As those in dreaming Giza toiled,
Your armor gleamed.
Glossy, waving fronds of emerald,
The knitting of your soul is prismatically eternal.
In your heart lies the mystery, the paradigm, the map
Of interspecific communion
And eradication.
The indomitable saurians flagged and waned and
Evanesced while
Seas boiled,
And you watched with certitude and
Incalculable indifference.
The rock is your reliquary,
The crust, your domain.
The story of your kind is long, and written
By the strewn remains of vanquished adversaries,
And again and again over sun-dappled eons.
Your fabric, your armature,
Permits a transcending, a spurning,
Of the verdict of nature’s timeless, adjudicating solon.
Only the cosmos, not evolution’s corporeal template,
Knows your impassive plan.
You are my guest and my ward, and
You live in my house as winter hours while,
And in my little garden world beneath summer’s
Azure vault, and
I tend you.
But your memory is long,
And your arts are ageless.
Nodding, waving, mysterious ancient,
You permit my ministrations and await
Your next custodian.
“Cycad Susurrations” ©2025. John G. Stamos and The Renaissance Garden Guy
Alrighty, sports fans, what’d you think? I really hope you liked “Cycad Susurrations.” I’m including this poem on this particular day because I got behind the eight ball on the article I’d originally planned to publish this week. I just couldn’t finish it in time. (But, it’ll be published next week, for sure.) In any event, it’s always a hell of a lot of fun for me to whip up creative works like “Cycad Susurrations” to include here in The RGG and elsewhere – it’s just a blast writing stuff like this. And speaking of creative works, I recommend a visit to The RGG’s Blogging, Writing, and Creative Works archives, where you’ll find short fiction, poetry, essays, and other creative and writing-related works by a host of excellent contributing writers, and, of course, by yours truly, as well. There’s some really amazing material there, and I do hope you’ll be able to spend a few minutes having a look around.
As always, my dear readers and subscribers, I thank you for your kind interest and your readership. It’s all dearly appreciated.
Cheers, and Happy Gardening!
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I’m curious, John. Did you know all of his secrets before you added this silent killer to your collection? 🙂 The poem is lovely. You’re so talented!
Wow, Tina, you are so kind – thank you! I really appreciate that! And to answer your question, I knew it was extremely poisonous. Every grower of these ancient, deadly little trees that I know of includes a disclaimer regarding its toxicity on its packaging/plant tags. I also did know that cycads are a really ancient group of plants. But, since I’ve only recently been researching them for an upcoming article, I didn’t know the full extent of either their history or their lethality. They’re really ancient little badasses! Thanks again for reading the piece and for your kind comments, Tina. Once more, I really appreciate that.
Great poem!
Many thanks, Annie. I’m so glad you liked it. The poem’s inspiration is pretty cool, too. It’s really a pretty sinister, ancient little tree. (I’m actually doing some research for an upcoming article about it. Should be pretty interesting.) Thanks again, Annie!
A sweet, beautiful and silent killer …
I absolutely love it !!!!
Awesome writing ✍️🌹❤️🌹
Thank you, Roxxy – I really appreciate that! I’m so glad you enjoyed reading it. You bring up a great point, incidentally. The tree really is beautiful in an ancient, mysterious sort way. I can easily imagine its lovely fronds nodding in an afternoon Triassic breeze. But I definitely would NOT want to piss it off! Thanks once again, Roxxy!
Sinister plant, silent killer. I’m not eating at that breakfast bar! Great writing as always, and very informative, as well. Who would have thought that such a lovely plant could be so dangerous?
Thank you for reading the piece, Kevin, and for commenting here. Much appreciated. Yes, the plant is incredibly lethal. Any time I’ve seen it sold here in this country, there are generally at least a few printed warning labels attached to its container and plant tag. Very lethal. Thanks again, Kevin.
That plant. Such a beautiful killer. 💚
It really is a remarkable group of plants, Lane. And they really are beautiful. The combination of toxins that these things possess is incredibly lethal. When I bring mine indoors for the winter, I’ve got to keep it completely out of Holly’s reach. Thankfully, it’s a slow grower, and I’ve been able to keep it in the center of my wide counter every winter. I’m thinking that I might one day need to give it its own private bedroom – assuming I live that long! Thanks for reading the poem, Lane. It’s truly appreciated.
Another example of your erudite poetic skills. I truly enjoyed this original poem.
Thank you so much, Rick – I really appreciate that. I’m happy that you liked it. And I thank you reading it in the first place, and for taking the time to comment here. Again, Rick, I really appreciate it.