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Best Garden Poems

Below are the all-time best Garden poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of garden poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New Garden Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Garden poems are below this new poems list.

Perennial Zen Garden by Dillenbeck, Gerald
The Garden Toad by Rigoler, Maurice
My Garden by A. Sharma, Dr. Upma
My Garden Pleases Me by Duggan, Peter
A Giant in the Garden-Giant Animals Contest by Inman, James
God's Garden by Flannery, Vincent
Rose Garden by Martin, Thomas
The Garden by johnson, curtis
The Garden by Babbit, DM
Water garden by Costales, Josefina

View all new Garden Poems

The Best Garden Poems

Details | Garden Poem | |

Where The White Rose Blooms

The single white rose captured the old gardener's attention,
He lovingly cared for it, like it was his own grand-daughter,
The roses were just like family and friends in his eyes,
He gave them bright sunshine, and plenty of fresh water.

He had always planted roses in reds, yellows, and pinks,
Yet, it was the one white rose that he favored most,
The old gardener admired it's innocence and elegance,
A quality that the other roses just could not boast.

This precious rose was pure white, like new fallen snow,
Which only a cold, late November day could bring,
It's delicate petals were soft to the finger's touch,
Similar to that of a feather, in an angel's wing.

The old gardener was perplexed and astonished,
Only this rose bloomed through spring, summer, and fall,
Each of the other roses had withered months ago,
The frost and cold weather did not affect it at all.

With a smile, the old gardener took one last look,
Unknowingly, death would soon come without warning,
After he had settled down for a nap in his chair,
He drew his last breath, later on that morning.

His funeral was held on the very next day,
Loving words were spoken, as he was laid to rest,
His grand-daughter approached, with tears in her eyes,
As she placed the single white rose upon his chest.

The cemetery was a quiet and peaceful place,
Where family and friends gathered to remember,
A gentle snow began to fall upon the casket lid,
Brightening the gloom on this final day of November.

The old gardener's soul departed from this earth,
Lead away by a choir of angels, on delicate wings,
Then on through the pearly gates of heaven's garden,
Where the white rose still blooms, in eternal springs.






November 25th, 2013

Written by: Kelly Deschler

Copyright © Kelly Deschler

More great poems below...


Details | Garden Poem | |

Garden Helper

I’m out to plant spring flowers 
with little feet in tow.
His eager hands will churn the soil
as gentle breezes blow.
His tender feet will grace this place
and leave sweet prints behind
to create patterns of delight -
his garden art to find.

As temperamental winter bows
to steadfast warmth of spring...
most cherished of my flowers grown, 
my wild one on the swing!

I'm going to the garden
to chase a little boy,
buzzing like a bumble bee...
an afternoon of joy! 

 

Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders


Details | Garden Poem | |

The Sands of Love

Two statues of stone
On pedestals in the park
One male
One female
White objects of a perfections beauty
Yet they stood erect and alone
When the rain fell
This was their tears
The stared at each other with longing
The trees grew tall
Season by season the flowers bloomed
Two statues standing erect in the prison of life's hold

A poet walked in the park
Glancing at lovers, kisses at dusk
He stared at the statues above his head
He knew, with dread, the loneliness of stone maidens
He waited for the park to become enclosed in the twilight
With toil and sweat he did succeed on his lark
Pushing the statues close rather than apart
As one statue danced and the other one sang
They kissed the sweetness of night and felt the tears of joy
All because a poet
Wished them a lovers embrace
He knew them like they were his children
For here he was as well
A statue
In love

Copyright © arthur vaso


Details | Garden Poem | |

Wild Love

The blackberry's love for the garden rose
Brought down the gardener's wrath.
The blackberry sensed the danger
As he wended the garden path.

" A love so true as mine", he sighed,
"Must dare to brave the hoe.
Just a few more feet to reach her,
My true love she must know."

He crept along so quietly,
Sometimes quite out of sight
Until he nudged his darling's feet.
Did he dare to trust the light?

He heard the gardener's heavy boot
And hid in craven shame.
He knew he'd soon be weeded out,
A seedling with no name.

"Have I no worth since I don't rate
Some Latin nomenclature?
Without a well known parentage
Am I a freak of nature?

His darling's line was long and pure,
No skeletons in her past.
He had to make his feelings known.
Those boots were treading fast.

Gently then he wrapped his vine
Around his loved one's spine.
In great amazement he opined,
"Her thorns are sharp as mine".

The sweet rose felt his tender touch
And realized his fear
And wondered at his bravery
In coming to her here.

She heard the swishing of the hoe,
She heard those nearing feet.
Quietly letting down her leaves 
In a manner so discreet

She covered her wild lover.
The gardener unaware,
Stopped but to view her beauty.
He saw naught hiding there.

She whispered, "You are safe now".
The blackberry's heart was light,
Thankful that his dear sweet rose
Had not exposed his plight.

"A rose is still a rose." she said,
"By any other name
And in our distant ancestry,
We share some of the same".

"I'd rather know your wild love,
Than a love that's dull and tame,"
Cuddling close, returned his kiss
Without a bit of shame.

Next season there were seedlings
Of a very different kind.
The gardener delighted, cried
"A horticultural find."

The moral of this story?
Things aren't always what they seem.
The love you look down on today,
Could be tomorrow's dream.



Copyright © Joyce Johnson


Details | Garden Poem | |

Coral Garden

Coral Garden
(Lento - Rhyme)
			
Effortlessly blue damselfish parade across the scene, 				
Carelessly a turquoise parrotfish nibbles on flowers,			
Fearlessly an olive headed snake sneaks on prey unseen,			
Endlessly a butterfly fish pecks on polyps for hours.

Shining through, the sun kisses the giant clam's wave shaped lips	
Pining, at full moon the coral releases eggs and sperm.			
Lining behind mauve anemones the orange clown nips,			
Dining on a green sponge, sucked by a fluoro-pink flatworm.	
			
Sigh at the sight of the lionfish but beware its thorns,			
Spy creatures camouflage like the ground and even harden,		
Eye the school of striped angelfish weave around the staghorns,		
I am still searching for the famed octopuses’ garden.			

Discover these water gardens wherein secrets freely			
Hover, throughout a paradise untouched by human hands.			
Lover or not, marvels by these wonders which really			
Uncover, the awesome Creator of oceans and lands.				

Written by: Ronald Zammit
Dated: 16.02.2014		
Contest: My Secret Garden  -  rated 2nd
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud	

Note:  This poem is describing the mysteries of the sea and in so doing contemplates the power of God.

Copyright © Ronald Zammit

More great poems below...


Details | Garden Poem | |

The Butterfly Flutters By

The Butterfly Flutters By
On a steamy, sun-drenched, summer Sunday, Tree leaves delightfully dancing to the tune of A warm, welcoming, wandering breeze blowing, Metamorphosis now complete, no memory of being yesterday’s creeping caterpillar, The butterfly flutters by.
Blatantly, brazenly, boastfully, Showing off beautiful, brilliant, blue-black and brown wings, Gracefully gliding through a breathtaking, glorious garden, The butterfly shyly pitches from blushing, boldly-colored, buds to fragrant flowers, Cunningly outmaneuvering a competing, hovering hummingbird.
Slyly snatching a satisfying taste of tantalizing, syrupy, sweet nectar From attention-craving, Golden Flame Honeysuckle vines, The butterfly flutters by Cheerfully and completely satiated - Perhaps, already dreaming about tomorrow’s anticipated sugary feast!
Entered in the contest "The Butterfly Flutters By"

Copyright © Pandita Sanchez


Details | Garden Poem | |

My Poetry Garden

My poetry garden of late 
has lain untended and forlorn.
I succumbed to shock and dismay
upon entering recently, for I observed that
great disagreement had erupted
and now vehemently raged among 
adjoining unmade beds of subjects and verbs.

Modifiers that had been 
carefully kept in check upon their trellises 
now dangled everywhere.

Sentences had spilled out of their beds
in fragments or running on and on while
cases of subjectives and objectives
shamelessly intermingled and
were now easily mistaken
one for another.

Grammar, whose care I had entrusted 
to first, second and third persons,
lay in shameless disarray, 
as if no one could tell the difference.

Gerunds casually consorted with infinitives,
many of which had split. I recalled with a sigh
how many years it had taken me
to tightly bind them.
[to bind them tightly is what I meant.]

Commas were everywhere,
rendering those in appropriate position
practically unrecognizable, 
which I suppose was better
than what had happened
to the capitals, 
now completely ignored.

There was no reason for the rhyme,
and forms had somehow been confused
or misplaced altogether.

My lines, unpruned, were of disparate length and hideously incompl

An unfortunate mis-spell
had been cast 
and provoked an infestation.
Many of my friends I noted
had simply departed without comment.

The contest entry was blocked,
so I bowed my head in shame
and shuffled silently
through the exit marked N/A.

Copyright © Mark Peterson


Details | Garden Poem | |

Hidden Beauty


A garden presents a most beautiful sight
When seen from afar in a much broader light,
For there in a setting with all that surrounds,
Its total of beauty and color abounds.

To observe much too closely, study and dwell,
Inspect every flower and leaf very well,
Will quickly cancel the powerful presence
Of unified form with divergent essence.

Then we are bound to observe those objections—
The scattered, meaningless small imperfections
Of petals and blossoms and leaves not so fair;
Lose sight of the wonderful whole that they share.

We can also apply this to those we love,
And sometimes must separate, step back enough,
To view the grand total of gifts which combine
To create an image of balanced design,

And appreciate well those colors which are
A bit subtle up close but strong from afar.
So trite imperfections get lost in the ray
Of the aura of wholeness seen from away.

And so like a garden’s grand totality
When we stand back to thoroughly look and see,
We will vision with awe a marvelous view…
Total beauty and depth now perceived anew. 


© Sandra M. Haight 2015 
   All Rights Reserved

~1st Place~
Contest: Hidden Beauty
Sponsor: Rhonda Johnson-Saunders
Judged: 02/04/2015

Quote: Ralph Waldo Emerson
“Every particular in nature, a leaf, a drop,
a crystal, a moment of time is related to the whole, 
and partakes of the perfection of the whole.”


Copyright © Sandra Haight


Details | Garden Poem | |

SPRING HAIKU

morning quiet time
in nature's warm bosom found
sun kissed flowers shine













TRADITONAL HAIKU- POETRY CONTEST : 6th Place
12 March 2015
Sponsor: Debbie Guzzi





Copyright © Kim Patrice Nunez


Details | Garden Poem | |

My Cloud By Broken Wings



on my-
diaphanous    gossamer filmy cloud-
sumptuous I float woebegone

flowers   far   and below

and bluebirds come
fluttering in the azure sky
twittering and it's
beautiful

gossamer filmy cloud-sumptuous

the gobbledygooks with their nonsense
far   and below
and bluebirds come drifting

from the garden and forest they fly
to
my diaphanous
gossamer
         filmy
              cloud-sumptuous

the dullards with their yada yada
far
and
below
come with their hokum nattering

and I
yell    hey you
get off my cloud-
sumptuous     you  you 
nincompoops

bluebirds
twittering and twittering
beautiful
assemblage    of fluttering

whispering   hissing
with meaningless words
you keep off my diaphanous
gossamer    filmy     cloud

oh gentle breeze

             take this dreamer and flower picker
of buttercups    violets
dandelions
I see them swaying far   and below
                           in the meadows lovely
and I recall the little girl   me
who picked them
                       for mothers kitchen ledge

oh     let me drift     and see far and below
on my
diaphanous   gossamer cloud-
sumptuous    

______________________________
May 28, 2015


Free Verse

For the contest, Hey you, get off my cloud, sponsor, Skat A

Second Place

Copyright © Broken Wings


Details | Garden Poem | |

Shadow to Shadow - Shadows Contest

Shadow to shadow, shade to shade
In youth the Eden where you played
was left bereft, destroyed, decayed,
by trusts malignant masquerade

Shadow to shadow, shade to shade
Sweet grass dies in your fallow glade
as opportunist needs invade
and bleed the life from every blade

Shadow to shadow, shade to shade
First, victims surging song is brayed,
then dirges of the helpless fade
and urges pant their serenade

Shadow to shadow, shade to shade
Agendas you've arranged cascade
to keep your motives undisplayed
and cover cracks in your charade

Shadow to shadow, shade to shade
You've planted with your soiled spade
slick seeds of doubt in hopes that they'd
conceal the putrid plots you've laid

Shadow to shadow, shade to shade
Your blighted past will be replayed
and every bloom on whom you've preyed
must lie now in the beds you've made

Copyright © Lycia Harding


Details | Garden Poem | |

Corey Fazel

Koorosh the Great, Friend

All of my heart
One tear
Or one Monsoon
No amount, no grandeur
Can express the sorrow
Oh yes, I am sad, I am saddened
I am in sorrow
I am swimming in the darkness
I am missing something
That can not be said in words

Koorosh the great was a prophecy
For only now have we seen
The truth of greatness
Not by Victory, but by kindness
We are blessed to have seen
How simple life can be
Love your life
Your family
Your friends
Bring everyone laughter
Create, envision and dream
Everyone who knows you feels special
Your father taught you well
Kindness that transcended generations
In the end
A humble man
No god could make him bitter
He was as he always was and more
A kind man

Only when you remove a tree from the garden
Do you realize
The tree was the garden
The flowers bloomed for the tree
The people sought shade and comfort

Quietly, I weep
For him
For his family
For life

If all great leaders followed his path
What a beautiful world we would have
He inspired 
He smiled
Corey, you are missed


Notes: Dedicated to my friend Corey Fazel who just recently passed away before his time. Corey, you will be missed by many many people. It is you with your friendly pertinence that got me to swim, and that alone has changed my life, I will remember the many evenings and dinners we talked about all things under the sun.

MSA is Multiple System Atrophy, a terrible and debilitating disease that attacks the nervous system. It has many of the symptoms of Parkinson, however from onset one has very few years of life left.

Copyright © arthur vaso


Details | Garden Poem | |

Nana's Garden

You won't find a yard like this anymore. You'd think it would seem smaller now that I'm an adult, but it doesn't. It's still enormous, stretching far beyond the house like a grassy sea. The hills roll like the tide, dotted with patches of melting snow that remind me of cresting waves. All around me, the gardens wake from a wintry slumber.


tiny buds cling to naked branches-- a robin sings
Time stands still here in Nana's garden; the ghosts of childhood haunt every inch of the yard. There's my brother, climbing the ancient apple tree, throwing crab apples at my sister as she plucks daisies. Even as she dodges apples, she plucks away - asking no one in particular if she's loved or not, leaving a trail of petals in her wake. And there I am in my grass-stained skirt, twirling and twirling, falling dizzily to the ground, oblivious to my sister's shrieks of protest and my brother's triumphant laugh. I shake my head and the vision clears. Now the garden is empty - still overflowing with trees and shrubs and flowers, but lacking in laughter, mischief, and innocence. Innocence has been replaced by wistfulness.
two robins glide across the sky-- a door creaks
"Tea's ready, dear." I glance over my shoulder at Nana. She stands on the back porch wearing her favourite apron and my favourite smile. Like her garden, she hasn't changed. A few more silver strands in her hair, a few more lines around her eyes - but she is still the same woman who took care of us, tending to us just as she tended to her gardens. She smiles at me now, as if she knows that garden has cast a spell over me. With another glance at the apple tree, I follow Nana inside the house - and I swear I can hear echoes of laughter behind me.

Copyright © Heather Ober


Details | Garden Poem | |

Only you and me

The garden curled around us as we sat beneath the stars,
In the silver shine of Venus and the rust red glow of Mars.
The brandy was between us and we toasted life and love,
While the moon conducted music from the dark green leaves above.
In the cold grey light of morning we may think things diff'rently,
In the moonlight, in the garden, there was only you and me.
 
Vintage brandy in the bottle seemed to ask us both to drink
And the flowers that were watching clearly knew what they should think.
Then your glass was finally empty and you laid it to one side
While you closed your eyes and kissed me and the barn owl tried to hide.
In the cold grey light of morning we may think things diff'rently,
In the moonlight, in the garden, there was only you and me.
 
There was silence in my city as your lips were joined to mine
And I tasted all of heaven and a little brandy wine.
As our bodies settled closer and we melted into one
With embarrassed little giggles that were sure to signal fun.
In the cold grey light of morning we may think things diff'rently,
In the moonlight, in the garden, there was only you and me.

So we gathered up the glasses and we put the stars to bed
Then we walked along the garden path, my shoulder 'neath your head.
We pulled each other closer and we whispered with our hands
That tonight is all that matters and the whole world understands.
In the cold grey light of morning we may think things diff'rently,
In the moonlight, in the garden, there was only you and me.

Copyright © Jeff Green


Details | Garden Poem | |

Wild Rose

There, beyond the garden wall, are fronds of grass and weeds grown tall A wild rose pleads for a breath of sun just like a child who needs some fun The greedy shade has kept her shunned She is watered, fed, by pearls of dew hidden by the scattered hues of red, and green, and swirling blues where no one has seen, her beauty, true While blushing pale, of velvet blooms she fills the vales and afternoon with fragrant gifts, that lift the gloom She shifts and winds her tendrils loom to trail her vines with sweet perfumes prevailing through the twilight, soon She's has lost her petals one by one Tossed by evening's billowing tease They land beneath the willow trees, which band together, if to please the sun that gathers with the breeze in carpet for the birds and bees
________________________________________________ 1/21/15 For the contest: Interlocking Rhyme Sponsored by Isaiah

Copyright © Carrie Richards


Details | Garden Poem | |

Black Flowers Bloom

Skies so grey
Heart so blue
Flowers of the past come to bloom
Love has kissed the stems
Pain has poisoned the blooms
The flowers are black as death itself
They speak to no one
Living in a veiled garden of darkness
Shrouded in mourning
Lingering for autumns death to devour them
Flowers in waiting
Clouds dance in anticipation
The coliseum of life has another festival
Of the slaughtered flowers
Crushed back to dust
The stars above
Stare down in silence
Knowing their fate is sealed
In a billion years or so
Death shall devour them too

Copyright © arthur vaso


Details | Garden Poem | |

Here in the garden

Here in the garden

I sit here in my garden
Just watching all the fish
Swimming round, and round, the pond
For what more could I wish?
Than to have a wondrous garden
Filled with trees, and many flowers
There’s naught as sweet as a nice garden
I find there so much power.

I built this garden by myself
Though others helped a bit
Some friends dug me a great fish pond
And I’m so proud of it
As I sit here listening
The fountain sings its song
As I feel god Is here with me
It is here that I belong

Sometimes I worry though, I do
For I am aging fast
And the garden takes much energy
I hope my strength will last
For without my lovely garden
Oh, I would feel so sad
This lovely garden that I have
It makes my heart so glad.

1 October 2014.













Copyright © Peter Duggan


Details | Garden Poem | |

Lady of Tears

A statue of grey cold stone
Standing resolute in a garden of young lovers
Strolling arm in arm as young lovers do
She is the Lady of Tears from a place called
Yesterday

As lovers stroll among the springtime lilies
Gazing up to a weathered bust
They think only of future loves
New songs and new hopes
No time for Yesterday

In the silence of the night
It is said the Lady of Tears can be heard
Singing sadly of her longings
Her lover is buried underneath, as she whispers
Yesterday 

Who of you would ever guess?
A lady built of weathered stone
Had a heart so warm and sweet
Her life a fairy tale fable
An angel of yesterday

If I could caress her face
In the night, her tears I would sweep
Away from the miseries long since dead
I had a dream, we embraced forever
I whom lies beneath, in yesterday’s tomb

A lonely white dove makes her nest
In the arms of this statue
The doves knows behind the bleakness of grey
Is the Lady of Tears
Guarding her lover buried underneath

Tall and proud, a Nordic beauty cast in stone
All around, they do not see
As birds and flowers sing of our song
We are together at last
Yesterday no more

Copyright © arthur vaso


Details | Garden Poem | |

Surprise Factor

    (Why I'm Still Breathing)

When the cow was dry, she was compliant.
When she calved, she turned vicious
and no fence could hold her,
but she gave milk in abundance,
and Dad refused to sell her.

She chased Mother 'round and 'round the barn
until Mom panicked, climbed the corner logs,
and perched under the roof,
clinging like a cicada shell on a weed-pod.
Beasty pawed and bellowed until Dad came home.
"I could gain on her on the corners,"
Mother said, "because I could turn faster,
but she gained on me on the straightaway."

Plug-ugly tore through the fence,
into the garden, where Mom and I worked.
"Run, Cona Faye, run," my mother shouted.
How did she know? The cow passed Mother
and thundered straight for me. I ran.

At the fence, snorts filled my ears. Hot breath
steamed my back. I saw myself stomped,
pulverized into the dirt. I turned, screaming 
at full volume, and flailed my arms
like a windmill in a strong wind.
That old red cow locked her front legs
and skidded like a freight train on full brake.

I seized the moment, and scaled that rail fence.

Copyright © Cona Adams


Details | Garden Poem | |

A Modern Haiku


dressed in queen anne's lace  chrysanthemums spray baby breath awaken earth's vase
September 21 2014

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne


Details | Garden Poem | |

Mother's Garden

 
Mother's Garden ~~ I grew up amongst every kind of plant and flower, Beyond our gate was the garden of dear mother; This Eden was colourful, tangled and so sensational, So erratic, untamed and just totally unmanageable. Mother knew the Latin names of each blooming posy, The iris, lily, rose, aster, dahlia, marigold and peony; I really loved the purple larkspur and pink gardenia, Mother said she loved them all but adored camellia. Brightly painted butterflies danced and glided happily, And the nesting birds all sang their songs so loudly; We had an old swing and we would sit and sip tea, In the shade of the trees, just my mother and me. O to turn back the clock of time, moving and clicking, To be in my mother's garden again, a child dreaming. _________________________________________ July 2, 2014 Sonnet Entered in the contest, Any poem under 15 lines, Poet Destroyer First Place

Copyright © Broken Wings


Details | Garden Poem | |

Ode to Joy

Like morning light break forth of eastern skies
And astound with beauty the waking eyes
So did my heart before you rose to praise
A seraph in the nectar of flesh, May's
Brightest bloom in the garden of gladness
The purest form of earth's bare loveliness.
To you, O joy, O let me sing
Let me tell of love first coming.

Cho.
Awake the woodland choir for my song
Awake the primal hour of spring's soft throng
Awake the lark not yet on wing
Awake the world, an anthem bring
Of praise, of praise to beauty, praise
To the sweet rainbow of our days

Sweet fragments make the rainbow bloom aloft
Light splintered is yet in beauty so soft
And whole, the healing balm of my parched soul
Each little wonder a stair a bright stair
A garden of glory on heaven's scroll
I climb to suck the breast of worship here
I seek your worth and find God there
Uplifting me from mortal care

Inside the tabernacle of the soul
Wild and dusty, the dry harmattans roll
And every tender tree gasping for rain
Beheld sapphire arid sky and pray in vain
The pearly cumulus would sable turn
Where on the eye pivots the graceful tern
And then so suddenly you came
The phoenix of another name

Too deaf the deft pianist fingers toll
His litany your virtue to extol
You the image's bone transformed, transcend
All that desire loves and love declares right
Eden's broken wings yet make praise ascend
As prayers in the fluid light, a flight
Of rapture, leaving silent stars
And earth's tumult to jealous wars

Nothing but you, and you alone exist
O sacred symphony of heaven's bliss
And all earth shambles fore you fall again
To rise in your glory a better tale
The joy of beggining the end of pain
Lighthouse eternal, love that cannot fail
Sweet still the night aglow parades
Yet star like flowers morning fades  

Morning melted into mist, grass perspired
In the cool, leaves transpired droplets of bliss
The rainbow my thoughts like heaven attired
Beauty its providence hasten to kiss
Time had divinity at its leafed door
And seas and rivers in long triumph roar
The rhythm of earth so to begin
To break the carnal rule of sin.

Copyright © David Smalling


Details | Garden Poem | |

Before the Rain is Gone

She kept it all inside her
and never spoke a word,
though her thoughts flew and darted
like a trapped and frantic bird.

Inside her was a garden
that was hung with Spanish moss,
like the massive oaks were weeping
to remind her of her loss..

The spider wove at breakneck speed,
a perfect work of art,
watching it, she had her doubts
that humans were so smart.

The southern air was sultry
and the sea salt cloyed the skin,
 the yard dogs dug depressions
and the alley cats grew thin.

The black top roads got sticky
when the southern sun beat down
and the heat forever rises
forming monstrous thunderclouds.

When the blue sky rolls and blackens
soon the thunder shakes the ground
and the southern landscape flattens
as the blinding rain pours down.

Nostrils flared, she filled her lungs
with the dank and heady scent
of peat-rich soil, decay and loam,
of lavender and mint.

And in her secret garden,
reptiles raised their faces high,
and blessed the cooling water
that came pouring from the sky.

She loved the iridescence
of the blue-green dragonflies
and marveled at their flying skills
as they went whirring by.

The rain soon turned magnolia leaves
into miniature garden ponds,
there the dragonflies must lay their eggs
before the rain is gone.

Wrens and sparrows chirped and chattered,
they enjoyed the cooling rain,
but the squirrels were wet and grumpy
and the jays were raising Cain.

The girl did not seek cover
and the rain ran down her face,
on her lashes rain drops trembled,
much like crystals gently placed.

The thunder never frightened her
nor did the lightning scare,
to nature she was connected,
to living things, aware.

She lived in every moment,
soon the thunderstorm would end
and the dark earth would start steaming,
then the heat would come again.

Suddenly all fell silent
in her garden of delights,
all living things were quiet
as the steam began to rise.

The gray squirrel broke the silence
and if squirrels could really speak,
she knew he would be cursing,
surely swearing a blue streak.

And then she saw the blue jay
madly pumping out his call,
his angry face was comical
Mohawk feathers standing tall.

She swam the Sea of Apathy
and the Ocean of Ennui,
there the waves upheld her gently,
washing over memories.

And the earthworms turned the soil
in the garden of her mind
and the trees again were weeping
from the echoes left behind.

Copyright © Danielle White


Details | Garden Poem | |

Yesterdays Joys

At the end of my tunnel I use to see the light. It was built not with rock but with thick vines green and bright. I could see my path it was there I always walked, sometimes I would sit and think, listen as plants talked. Sweet peas, marigolds and pansies were at my side, I lived my life with friends in who I would confide. The air was scented in sachets rare, coloured in muted tones stripped down bare. Growing above me were angel lamps, also gorgeous dahlias, on the ramps. I remember in the large blue pond, a rare pair of two toned swans, while below the weeping willow, an almost sleeping chipmunk yawns. Convergent ladybugs clustering for warmth on the ground, drifting leaves acted like an ocean wave just to confound. Back then switched on lights would decorate the night sky with stars but now alarms sound as they shut me down behind these bars.
22~10~2014 Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst Contest Name:Pick a Title Yesterdays Joys

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne


Details | Garden Poem | |

Rose of Annamarie

Collecting the colors of nature,
the yellow, the blue and the green.
From the top of the stair,
I see a color so rare,
I go into the garden to see.
A snap-shot in my mind,
of the color I’d find,
just as my mind’s eye took it…
I continue my quest,
searching everywhere lest,
the dim light of dawn overlooks it.
I spy a fresh rose,
with petals of red,
I pick it not-
but admire instead.
It’s splendor and color,
at times wild and free,
are all reminiscent
of Annamarie…
Copyright © 2013

Copyright © Cole Banner