'Tis another glorious spring and I planted my garden with the expectation,
That I shall reap a bountiful harvest for my table with minimum frustration!
I planted the usual stuff - carrots, radishes, onions and termaters,
Watermelons, peas, corn, beans and a few hills of russet pertaters.
With the Good Lord's help, lots of sun and occasional showers of rain,
The seeds sprang to life along with some curses that are my infernal bane!
I've discovered that I have a healthy crop of weeds that need attention,
And a host of other intrusive visitors that I'll proceed to mention!
I was dismayed to discover legions of caterpillars and mealy bugs,
Pruning my plants along with hordes of ugly snails and slimy slugs!
They're even being attacked from below by gophers and moles,
And from above by crows making diving sorties from the clothesline poles!
'Coons, 'possums and wabbits at raiding my garden are very deft,
And armies of well-disciplined ants are gleaning what is left!
I even caught some nasty little kids filching a watermelon last night!
I chased them but those little dudes took off with the speed of light!
With a storm of wind and hail this morn I saw all my labor disappear!
Come next spring I think I shall opt to sit on the patio and guzzle beer!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
The name's Ike .
Some a you met me and my wife Jane,
We got us a good life, can't complain.
To the kids, I'm an old geezer round here,
I think it's funny , they don't mean no harm,
I likes ta watch em, and have me a beer,
Work in the yard; Jane calls it my 'lil farm .
I been around a long time,
But ya know, it's still me inside this old shell,
This old body shell is wrinkled and baldin'
gray haired and achin'; I really gave it hell.
Though ya know, inside, ...I'm still really alive!
Funny...I always think I'm about thirty five !
Anyway i'm gettin off track.
Sometimes I gotta find somethin ta git me goin',
so I head out to the yard and start ta hoein'.
Ya see I got me a 'lil garden,
sometimes, I spreads manure in,
...(beggin' your pardon)
You see ,in a special sorta way
each plant needs good care.
Some stay outside 'n grow on the rungs.
Some shoots I wants in the green house,
ta help 'em grow and tend to the young.
Guess them plants is like people,
Some praise God under the sky'
some prays ta Him under a steeple.
This ole garden been through alot.
She been through four hurricanes in her lifetime,
and one year,...a twister just missed her.
I've always liked it out here.
it's a special place to me,..very dear.
We sometimes walk out here, me and the Mrs.
We smile and call it "the old geezer's garden".
Then we get us in a few hugs and kisses.
My old garden been around
a long long time, but she's still alive!
Some folks ask me how old it is,..
and I tell 'em...oh..'bout ...thirty five...
see you folks next time. " nite nite darlin."
I was talkin' with the Lord when He said to me
"Are you okay? Need some company"?
I told Him that even with all His creatures
I couldn't find one that had my features.
"Well, no need to worry about it." He said
Then he gave me a nightcap, and put me to bed.
When I awoke I was awfully sore
Little did I know there was to be a lot more.
For He had taken a bit of my hair and a piece of bone
And whilst I slept, formed for me a unique companion.
I caller her "Eve" as it seemed to fit
As time went by we were a hit.
We would talk and eat and walk the garden nude
No neighbors as yet, we needn't be prude.
Then one day she said to me,
"Hey Adam, here, try some fruit from this tree."
Not knowing the difference between evil and good
I took a big bite, as together we stood.
Then in a flash everything turned black
I knew we were in for some serious flak.
"What have you done?" I asked aloud
"Was this from the tree, which was not allowed?"
"Well", she said, "The snake gave me the word
That if we ate it, we would be like the Lord."
We realized we were naked and ran off for some leaves
When the Lord started calling, we were hiding in the trees.
"What's going on?" He said to me
"Have you eaten of the forbidden tree?"
Like all blame shifting men not skipping a beat
"Yes, Lord", I said, "Eve gave me some to eat.
"You foolish creatures . . . it would have been wise
You could have spent eternity in this Paradise."
"I'm sorry Lord, I can't say it enough."
"You're right, you can't, so I'm making this rough!
Because now, you will have to scratch out a life
For yourself, your children, and especially your wife.
If you think this is bad, you're in for a trick
Wait until some banker dreams up plastic.
She'll be shopping and buying and going all around
It'll be enough, to put you in the ground.
As for her, she'll suffer as much and more too
After all, now she'll have to put up with you!"
So an angel took us to the gate in the garden wall
Saying only, "Be careful, now it will hurt if you fall."
So there we were, On the Outside Looking In
At that manicured garden, where we committed our sin.
I wouldn't mind if so much weren't at stake
Now all she says is, "I have a headache."
I've tried to forgive her and a gentleman be
But I still can't let her control the remote for the TV.
So here I am thinking, "I've been such a dupe,
For posterity . . . I'll put this on Poetry Soup!"
There once was a cougar named Rose
who kept the young men on their toes.
Working in her garden
they'd say "beg your pardon
I'll bet you could use a good hose!"
for Bawdy Limericks Two contest
sponsored by Roy Jerden
In Farmer Joe’s Garden
There once was a rabbit named Rosie.
She liked to eat carrots and posies.
While in farmer Joe’s garden,
She startled the yardmen.
So, they fled like big chickens, those three!
© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
March 7, 2010
Poetic form: Limerick
(Practice, practice, practice)
My blue terraced pot is alive this year,
Growing basil, chives, oregano and sage.
It sits on my patio in the filtered sun,
Ready for creative culinary inspiration......
Maybe after I finish this glass of wine.
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So what are you waiting for?
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You send bolts through my skin
something I was never to
accomplish with you, when I
saw you it's like my heart sank
to my stomach and I was in
shock my body still my body
heavy felt like when I moved I
was about to fall to my knees
you make me want to get
inside my brain pick you up and
take you out pick you one by
one like a flower because I do
love you and love you not.
a star and always her
constantly the moon in the garden
this wide paradise to me
where I declaim Emily Dickinson
syllable by syllable
to the happiness of the destinies
an eternal love
There are Fairies at the bottom of my garden
And they visit every evening, for a dance
They are lovely to behold and very welcome
I just wish they didn’t trample on my plants
Their favourite dance appears to be the Salsa
They do it with such style and aplomb
Much better than last week when they were jivin’
It appeared they’d hit the garden with a bomb
So I do believe in Fairies, ‘cos I’ve seen them
And every night I watch them, in a trance
They are graceful and delightful and enchanting
“Oi, Tinkerbell, get off my bloody plants”
© John W Fenn 14-07-2009
For days cold wind has blown from the channel
but it has calmed to milder breeze today.
I feel a soft spring breath upon my cheek
and hope the gentleness is here to stay.
The strong gale stripped the apple tree of blossoms.
She's now content to show her advanced age
and steps aside in modest resignation
to let the sweet lilac take center stage.
Rhododendrons and azaleas are contenders
for lilac's glory when she starts to fade.
My garden beauties all demand attention,
sun lovers and the ones that thrive in shade.
While I was trapped indoors, the weeds kept growing,
taking my garden as their own domain.
Nature is a strong and stern taskmaster,
just waiting for a chance to grab the rein.
So Mistress Dandelion, I give you warning;
I'm coming with my spade and rake and hoe.
You are invading space reserved for others;
so pack your bags it's time for you to go.
Tell your friends I have eviction orders;
the elegant Miss Rose will be here soon.
She'd be offended by your wanton ways
at her big welcome party come this June.
A fuzzy butt, Big buck teeth, enormous ears, and floppy clown feet.
You eat my garden. Your such a pest.
You ate my peas, squash, and more.
I seen these little thieves from my own front door.
You hoop around the tree and the bush.
Your lucky your cute. You silly looking critter.
Don't look at me with those beety little eyes.
If you keep it up, I'll give you a surprise.
A ball of twine, a washing line
A bag of peat, an old dust sheet
An old flat tyre
A roller-skate, a garden gate
Some dry grass seed, a millipede
A sack of sand, one glove, left hand
A painters pallet
A cracked fish tank, a broken plank
A headless gnome, some dried out loam
An old bike bell, a snail shell
A champagne cork
The dogs toy bone, a traffic cone
It's cleared away, it took all day
I find it is, quite safe to say
It used to fit, But who knows how
My garden shed is empty now
THE IRISH GARDEN
Created by God but designed by me - my garden (13 syll )
It was intended as Helen’s playground (Name of smb loved)
She wanted space big enough but not expansive (rhyme)
And play equipment dear enough but not expensive (rhyme)
“And no dogs ! ” (3 words)
she said. ( Indeed, ‘n’ I agreed ) (palindrome)
And so we set to work making the Irish garden (title)
The work was extensive as well as intensive (rhyme)
She wanted songbirds, saying, ”a bird in hand is worth two in the bush” (quote)
And in Ireland the birdsong is beautiful (country)
I felt she’d long to belong among song but I was wrong (5 words rhyme)
I found her a blackbird (6 syll )
Which sang “Bye Bye Blackbird “ (song title)
So I responded “Goodbye, farewell, adieu” (synon)
Then it was gone, disappeared, absent, vanished (4 words the same)
So now, where to get music for her? (no A / D / L)
Her happy eyes shone with anticipation of singing birds (happy eyes)
But I was out of ideas, running on empty (run/on/emp)
A mechanical model bird?. . . yes, of such things had I heard (rhymes with 6 syll)
Such cultural perfection sublime ! (poem line)
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . .
Written by Sydney Peck
Entered in Tracie ~*~ Indigo Dreamweaver's Contest Mish-Mash
For Vienna, by request.
Something has gone terribly wrong in my garden today,
My tomatoes are all growling at me with big teeth on display.
And when I investigated I got a big surprise,
‘Cause they were staring back at me with big round bulging eyes.
Then they started to come after me trying to get a taste,
So I had to move a little faster as I was picking up the paste.
I became quite concerned as I thought about my loss,
Afraid that I would be the one who ended up in the sauce.
I started to pull away from them in this deadly match up,
But only for a little while since they could easily catsup.
Then they crashed right through my door like it was made of balsa,
I backed them out with a carving knife and the threat of making salsa.
This is not what I had in mind when I planted a tomato vine,
It’s not right that my garden should pick on me to dine.
I don’t think that I’m out of line and my complaint is perfectly valid
After all no one should have to worry about being eaten by their salad.
Next year I think that I won’t waste my time planting killer tomatoes,
Instead I think I’ll use the space for a run of peaceful red potatoes.
Chewed stalks brown corn
Skeleton dead heads of sunflowers
rotten tomatoes and watermelons
fruitless vines and weeds waist high
Purple salvia blooms shine
flower power showers
Sour pity hour
Powdered sugar icing
tower the sweet wower
Twinkling little elephant toes
Prancing through the Garden Of Woes,
With his long dainty nose.
"Good morning to you",
says a cute butterfly.
With cheeks glowing pink
The mammoth creature whispers, "Hi".
Turning from pink
To bright crimson red,
He bats his lashes
And hides his head.
As the butterfly turns
And flutters away,
The prancing little elephant
Continues to play.
I realize then
That it's time for bed.
Cuz, the dancing pink elephant
Is all in my head!
Hey pesky rabbit where are you
I know all my plants you did chew
Hey pesky rabbit don't you hide
I'm gonna take you for a little ride
Hey pesky rabbit don't you fret
I not gonna hurt you..........yet
I was gone for a week and a day
In my garden you decided to play
Eating up all that was green
Now my garden can't be seen
You thought it was your mess hall
Now I have to replace them all
So little rabbit I'm watching you
If you do it once more you'll be stew
she hears him.
He is near.
He is waiting
A day can seem so long
when the heart
lovers are apart.
But it is now
and Juliet will stand
where she had planned to be
as if unplanned.
dressed in verdant green;
to be a queen.
upon her parapet.
she makes her pose;
While somewhere in the greenery below,
She know he's there
She is a tease.
A tremble starts
near his knees.
she has the power;
she has the eggs.
He starts to serenade her
with his legs.
Oh lovely, little hedgehog, playing in the grass,
I love your prickly, stylish coat, it brings you so much sass.
I see that little nose of yours, twitching to no end,
sniffing out the next hot thing, the next must-have fashion trend.
But I am on to you little hedgehog, playing in that grass.
I will not just sit here idle by, with two thumbs up my ass.
I know you’re planning something big, something evil too,
when I look into those eyes of yours, you become a cunning shrew.
You stole my Chanel, and my Versace, I bet my Armani you did.
Don’t even try to deny it gurrl, for I am not a kid,
I’m all grown up and stronger now; look I’m taller too.
I’d think twice about crossing me again, especially if I were you.
So continue lovely, little hedgehog, playing in the grass,
I’ll be keeping an eye on you, under my big ol’ magnifying glass.
Maybe I’ll show you true style, some taste and if you’re lucky some true passion,
‘cause you, lovely, little hedgehog don’t know anything about fashion.
Around The Garden ( series)
I bought these palms
For border lines
With plenty time to grow
Envisioned private boundaries
They seem to grow so slowwww.
I left the tag upon them
Dug it out so I could see
“grows about 3 feet tall”
That’s why they’re called Pygmy.
Flowers that are kept with care
So ugly creature
moonscape of my back
Truly, it's a big
moonscape of my back
My nerves shredding:
The concrete weeds,
myself for this task
I've delayed, I
admit, for cosmic
Bravely, finally, I
resolved and booked
one week's annual
To prepare, to
From this task that
may take up to two
I'm impelled to
Must I find the
to take on the
abysmal brat of
Fetch me a flask of
sports energy drink,
Complex sugar, I
think, my devotional
I write poetry, so
must I also do
Must I really stand
alone on that flat
dune of grey,
Pockmarked with such
The weeds, they are
I stare at them from
the window, I'm not
Wouldn't you rather
I just wrote this
How many fresh dead
poets does the world
I'd like to be a
living tragic poet,
not one that weeds!
(That's too tragic,
even for me).
And, look over
I might get bitten
by that bumblebee!
And I sneeze like a
banshee when near
sneezed sneezes I
issue near weeds.
Yes, banshees do
Weeds are angry
wannabe baby trees,
I'm feeling quite
So ill, I've just
spelt it I'll.
Now that's I'll,
Where's my quill?
I need to scroll the
Order some pills -
Exported from the
moon, made in
potions you don't
require an ignoring
doctor to see,
I must have illegal
I'm a poet, it's my
I. Don't. Do.
Yet, here I stand on
There they sway
The emerald streaked
posse of thorny
Well, here goes -
One small step for
But one giant leap
for a poet such as
for more of my
humorous poetry just
google Suki Spangles
The slowing whine as it came to rest
A spacecraft settled down
Like a mother bird into its nest
Glowing there green and round
Smoke spewed from open ports
The air smelled of gas
Little men came out of doors
And laid upon the grass
There soon formed a crowd from town
Peering at this awesome sight
The spacecraft there coming down
And glowing in the night
The mayor spoke and said he knows
What to feed these creatures green
They feed on French tomatoes
And drink the juice of beans
This is why they landed here
By this garden in the grass
But first to have a nice cold beer
From a large and frosty glass
Now arrived the TV news
Those men of truth renowned
And started doing interviews
To spread the word around
Camera trucks and many more
Big frames of antennae
Microphones by the score
And dishes ten feet high
Beaming waves of HD pics
Popping flashes all around
Sending data high speed flicks
Of the creatures on the ground
Throbbing cables glowing hot
Plugged in every place
Trying to get a camera shot
Of the first from outer space
To scoop this scene
A place for them
If one could see from outer space
The light from each ones screen
Glowing back in every face
As they peered at those men green
Then finally in a casual way
One begun to speak
In a manner rather cool to say
We come to here in peace
Our trip was going very well
Between some outer stars
When a passenger ask do you sell
Those peanuts grown on mars?
I am the steward here
I serve folks while we fly
Bean juice and good cold beer
And peanuts you can buy
Many times our flights are long
My supply of things run out
We know if things go wrong
The captain starts to shout
We had just crossed the great black sea
A dreadful place to span
This chap had then just beckoned me
For bean juice, another can!
I opened up the saucers store
To take his order back
And It was empty, was no more
The captain blew his stack
We were only half way there
How long here who knows
But the captain does not care
If we need French tomatoes
Our snifter found your plot
This garden full of greens
French tomatoes all you’ve got
And the juice squeezed from beans
Fear not earthling creatures
And even though we’re green
Maybe strange our features
But our nature is not mean
Steward sir, get the door
Our loading it is done
We now have filled our store
Goodbye ..to everyone!
Jimmy Hoffa Is Buried There
By Elton Camp
For decades, Joe had been in one prison or another
When one day he received a letter from his brother
“Joe, I wish I could dig up the old garden space
I’m now living on a pension & it’s poverty I face”
“If I could produce a crop, it’d held me get by.
But my back’s so bad that to dig I can’t try.”
Joe wrote back, knowing his letter would be read
“Don’t dig there. It’s where I put Hoffa when dead.”
The next week, authorities with shovels came in
And when Joe heard about it, he began to grin
About what happened, he never once ranted
“Brother, it’s ready for the garden to be planted.”
Dad was digging in the garden
When he struck a custard well
Mum was none too happy
By her phizog you could tell
We watched the plume of custard
As it rose into the sky
Dad said “It’s bloomin’ lovely
We can have that with some pie
Mum was still unhappy
“This has ruined my best dress
You can both get out there later
And clear up this ruddy mess”
First thing in the morning
I went out, to see the hole
Scraped away the surface
And I filled a little bowl
Sitting on my haunches
In my jim jams and a vest
I took a cautious spoonful
And declared it was the best
Then later on, the press appeared
And in the garden mustered
As Dad explained how he had found
A well of perfect custard
A well known geolologist
Was hired to survey
He said our well, might just achieve
Ten thousand puds a day
So, Dad went out and bought himself
A brand new custard pump
And put it in the shed that he
Was just about to dump
With lots and lots of effort
And a little bit of planning
We built ourselves a factory
And we started custard canning
Now mum is very happy, ‘cause
We’ve bought a house that’s bigger
Don’t know what she’ll say though
When she sees Dad’s bought a digger
Days that end on notes unwell
Compel this weeping soul
To walk among a secret garden
Where stepping stones in careful lay
And the rains of winged and flower friends
Give way to hearts unburdened
And to tears of joy
Or that of weathered season
To water the rose petals in uneven
“Tells us dear, why always sadness”
“Is when you visit here?”
“No more worries, friends will change that frown upon which you wear”
Their rainbow already smiles
And polka dotted eyes
Have ready changed me back to cherry cheer
As Sun flora holds me so motherly near
Where Doodly Bug does her dancing thing
And Blue Jay fails to tell a joke, because all he can do is sing
Betty Fly within her elegance of silence mimes
To Mr. Dandy Lion sending wishes off into the winds
And Inchee worm finally reaches me at the gardens end
In and among the gather, laughter spills all around
As the garden fills ever more and more
Until the sun party crasher comes down and down
And the fire flyers usher, and take to flight
A signaling sight to all
What brings about a hush quiet overhaul
And as I rise, once more in cries
In departs from my secret friends
They offer out all their good nights and even more their goodbyes!
My garden secret and hidden far
Safely within an enchanted meadow
Is tucked away like a precious treasure… beneath my softly pillow
For, What's In Your Garden contest
So, What is, in my garden?
Why'd you have to ask?
It's all hard work, just wasted
'Cause nothings made to last
I'm always fighting insects
Like Beetles by the score
Moths, flies and cutworms
I tell you, this is war
Crawling over all my fruit
And hidden in the soil
Ragweed’s taken root
Half my plants are dying
Soon the other half will go
Some say I should, grow grass instead
But I really hate to mow
Shucking corn fresh from the garden
It's not much fun language pardon
Tasty treat_sweet to eat
Lessons learned from this yucky chore
Tough shuck protects kernels galore
Pluck protects heart's soft meat
First time writing Tail-Rhyme
According to site:
Rhyming couple -eight syllables
Shorter line-does not rhyme
Then another couplet
Then a single line of fewer syllables
that rhymes with line three
But I have a question.....
It shows rhyme scheme as
aab,ccb but that is not what it
says in the printed part..
Which is correct?
I do not know?
You say that you can picture me sitting in my chair.
What is it that you picture when you look from over there?
Do you envision beauty or an ugly, wrinkled hag?
Does my skin give off a glow or do my wrinkles sag?
It's strange to think you picture someone you've never seen.
I could be short and squatty or maybe tall and lean.
What is the face that's given to represent this poem?
Is it of a beauty queen or just a garden gnome?