Secret grief
Stand at the window, hands on hips
gaze on the disorderly mess
that is a neglected garden.
Mourn diminution of physical strength
loss of marrow from bones
joints stiff in stillness sulking
while flowers run wild,
colours clash as massive self-sown
intruders mar the symmetry.
Perhaps one day
a knight in shining armour
will clatter in and take control -
vanquish weeds
barber barbarians
cut down rampant enemies,
reveal shape and beauty
clear the way for tiny things
to bloom. At last, I see the crocus.
My garden is a fictional plot but the weeds are real. A telling and timely piece, personally seen.
“Massive self-sown intruders,” loved that phrase. This gardening poem will please you as well, since I did battle (almost knight-like!) with… Love, Amy
http://sharplittlepencil.com/2012/05/21/always-and-forever-ironweed-dammit/
“joints stiff in stillness sulking” – Just a fragment of this wonderfully well done poem.
Beautiful, wonderful, excellent, fun…those barbarian weeds. I hear you.
I like it, love the image of the knight coming to save the garden, wonderful sound throughout. Especially like
loss of marrow from bones
joints stiff in stillness sulking
while flowers run wild,
love this….although very sorry for your ailments. but even if with able body, and a holiday weekend, with 3 kids I haven’t been able to get into my own garden. and it is true sadness indeed. the bee balm is threatening to take over a corner…..but interspersed is my periwinkle with it’s delicate tiny purple blooms peeking out in defiance.
Sometimes what arrives in the garden by accident can be better than what I plant by design! My gravel path is full of love-in-a-mist, and I won’t pull it up.
I smiled knowingly with “joints stiff in stillness sulking”. My garden waves weedily to yours.
Hmm…all the pictures I ever see of your gardens would tell me otherwise.
Nicely wordled, ViV.
*hugs*
That’s because of my knight in shining armour. He mows, digs, cuts hedges, but doesn’t do weeding or if he does, it’s scorched earth, not a plant is left, so I had to stop him!.
You always find the beauty through the turmoil; why your work always placates my need for your worded wisdom, Viv !
Truth in your humor – as always a delight to read you Ma’am.
My words can be found here (I had some fun too)…
http://julesgemsandstuff.blogspot.com/2012/05/picturesque-sw-wordle-57.html
I love your homage to tiny grief and especially sulking joints (of which I possess many) – this is a wonderful take on these words and skilfully woven, so much so I forgot it was a wordle …
http://thepoet-tree-house.blogspot.ca/2012/05/no-one-would-think.html
“joints stiff in stillness sulking” Sulking! yow
Very meaningful for those of us on the back end of the aging spectrum!
To barber a barbarian might seem an impossible task…but not to the tiny things that bloom. They don’t care one whit whether the barbarians are barbered or not—they just keep on blooming!
The barbarian I had in mind was the exuberant growth of grass which hid tthe sight of this year’s crop of crocuses.
I love it. I kept being surprised into “ahs” both by what you said and the way you said it. ‘Barber barbarians’! The idea of joints sulking, perfect. I will now think of you daily. Wait, I already do that. I’ll think of you with each moaning joint!
I could see that so clearly in my mind.
You attacked these words beautifully, Viv. I’m sorry that your garden runneth over…. and am happy for the colors the crocus brings. Even if it runneth over, it will still splash with color.
Love the attitude. Yes, oh for a knight in shining armour at times.
I love the truth AND the humor here. I do think I could find some jobs for that ‘knight in shining armor’ too! Well wordled, Viv.
OH VIV – our widows both standing at their windows hands on hip… I adore yours so compelling! “Clear the way for blooming things”! and yes the hope! “at last I see the crocus” !!! This is wonderful:) So good that I want to go back and write another of my own!
)))
Why thank you, Pearl. I shall immediately go and look for yours!
A poem of mourning that resides in a garden. That last sentence puts a smile on the grief. Nice work!
I like your take on this, Viv. So often we think of tragedy and disaster when we think of grief, but you remind us that we have small griefs, as well.
I like the hope in the last line.
amazing