Irene Toh at Red Wolf Poems is asking for poems about gardens. Here’s a three-year-old poem about the days when we had a proper garden:
The Cream of the garden
The bank, left wild for birds, insects,
and January primroses,
before violets, bluebells, nettles,
cow parsley and foxgloves.
The hedge, murdered every few years
for winter logs and kindling – a motley thing
of alder, hazel, chestnut, ash,
wild cherry and baby hedgerow oaks;
there’s a hollow stump sprouting hazel hair,
where a blackbird raises a brood in Spring,
becoming hideaway for summer children.
Its brambles give us jelly and crumbles,
sweetness from undergrowth.
Sweetness, too, behind the shed
where grass cuttings, weeds and waste,
moulder undisturbed into compost,
loved by vegetables, flowers, fruit, and me.
or this one
To All the Lazy People
You who can’t be bothered to dig up weeds,
who use noxious chemicals instead.
You whose gardens are tidy and sterile
because all the bees are dead.
Instead of working out in a gym,
work outside if you want to be fed.
Get fit to save your daily bread.
Wonderful Viv. There’s nothing like the creative arts when it comes to making political statements
LikeLiked by 1 person
Your garden remind me of my own – but I bet my weeds are bigger!.. There is something bout an old garden that pushes its way out of the ground every year – maybe most of them are weeds, but weeds can be beautiful, too!
LikeLiked by 1 person
The second poem gave me a huge chuckle. I love it, and it’s so true, too! >
LikeLiked by 1 person
I smiled at the second but fell in love with the first. Such lovely descriptions.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Such good descriptions. I actually enjoy weeding–kinda Zen-like, though my old back hates all that bending over. I think I just need to do it in short increments instead of an hour or two at once.
LikeLike
Five minutes is my limit for just about anything these days
LikeLike
Both great but the second one made me laugh. ‘Tidy and sterile’- that’ll be the day -but, as you so rightly say, that’s a good thing. We’ve never been able to call our grass ‘a lawn’ but, luckily, I like daisies and buttercups and forget-me-nots which is just as well.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I especially like the second poem. Thank you
LikeLiked by 1 person