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The Daisies

THE DAISIES You really have to hand it to the daisies They dash the lawn like gems on rich brocade Their sparkle that thus gratifies our gaze is Cut short each time the reaper wields his blade Yet in a space of fecund summer days They raise their heads, resume their snow-white blaze

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Kim Rodrigues

Date: 8/27/2021 12:14:00 PM

So beautiful! What a grand poet you are!

Geoffrey Brewer
Date: 9/23/2021 1:56:00 PM

Thank you very much for your kind words, Kim.

Gershon Wolf

Date: 7/12/2021 7:28:00 PM

NOW I shall hand it to the daisies -- after reading your fine poem, Geoffrey. Thanks, Gershon

Geoffrey Brewer
Date: 7/20/2021 6:50:00 AM

Thanks, Gershon, they deserve it!

Gary Radice

Date: 7/11/2021 12:33:00 AM

Geoffrey, I spent a good half hour mowing the lawn yesterday..not that it's a big lawn but because it was overgrown..and I actually thought to myself how resilient daisies are. They go. They come back. Kids used to make chains with them. Wilfred Owen referred to death as pushing up daisies. Like your lovely flowing and beautifully worded poem, they leave and have left their mark on life.

Geoffrey Brewer
Date: 7/12/2021 8:11:00 AM

Thanks for your comments and shared experience, Gary. Since downsizing from a house with big garden to a small flat with shared garden, I no longer have the fun of mowing a lawn. (Can’t say I miss it) “I love gardening; could watch it for hours!” All the best.