small fragrant garden
garlic basil parsley too
aloe and bee balm
a nod to my health
green medicinal delights
lettuce gives a wave
puffy lavender
bee balm attracts bumblebees
black and yellow fuzz
the sun is happier to see me than my mother
appreciating her joy of me I take a seat
loving what she adds to my day
happy bird speak reiterates my feelings of well-being
this is Memorial Day weekend
a three-day holiday usually filled with dreary rain
the fuzzy bee balm is barely moving on her stalks
she usually attracts bumblebees, but not today
it is a breezy cheery Saturday
sun warmed and enthusiastic
I pick up my pen
preparing to write something
maybe this
"Unfold the days of spring sunshine
and the awe of black and gold velvet wings of happiness." Quote by poet
The amber broad horizon runs over the countryside
While nascent painted pattern clouds open up wide.
A little girl beams in her pink dress, trimmed in white lace,
Black patent shoes, and her auburn hair across her face.
Runs across the countryside of wild red bee balm
As the abundant blooms unfold in silence of the calm.
Black and gold velvet butterflies flit in aromatic spring
Air enjoying the warmth of the sunlight it does bring.
4/15/2023
blooms
bouncy
baby’s breath
busy bee balm
ritzy rose, glitzy gloxinia
zany zinnia, dear ditzy daisy
swanky saffron
flouncy phlox
bonnie
buds
Brandon, bald baby brother,
brief bill;
before bother buying beautiful Baby's Breath Bouquet, beware
better bring back borrowed Bee Balm Bag,
-busted-
because building behavior beats blaming bad boys banned
be blessed, bigger brother, bold Blake.
kiss of a tulip
lavender and bee balm too
garden winked her song
Butterfly leads my eye to other marvels
Marigold laughs, seeing my interest
I walk to the bee balm and visit with the bumblers
They are in a frenzy, competing for pollen
My yard is fully alive in June
Dragonflies nearly take off my head
Silent gliders, reminding me that spirit is here
Orbs would be seen if I was taking photos, but I am not.
I can feel the energy of my ancestors
Their approval of my four gardens,
Vegetables pushing through the soil
Ready for picking and plucking
The sun caresses my neck as I bend forward
To collect my bounty from the earth
Wind reminds me she is here,
Eager to entice my leaves to dance.
Poor Ruby Hummer looks confused,
searching for her favorite feeder.
It was right there when it last was used,
in September, in the cedar.
Above the Bee-balm and Lobelia,
in my pollinator garden,
so sorry, Ruby, yes I feel ya,
and I truly beg your pardon.
I’m late this May, you came so soon
from your Yucatan vacation.
2000 miles from your lagoon,
a miraculous migration.
500 miles without a stop
o’er the Gulf, you must be famished.
A marvel that you didn’t drop,
and now your feeder’s vanished!
Just last week we had some snow,
a freakish mid-May specter.
Please be patient, please don’t go,
I’ll brew you up some nectar.
Meanwhile, check the Columbines
while I go and fetch the feeder.
And don’t forget your Trumpet Vines
that wind behind the cedar.
Come grace my garden, cheer my heart,
you’re my favorite garden guest.
It’s time to fatten up and start
to build the family nest.
Here nest materials, soft and pliable,
give shelter from the storms.
Next Spring I will be more reliable,
I’ll institute reforms.
June 2020
Garden Contest sponsored by Constance La France
Rebirth glides -
a bee balm ballerina
with dainty airs
sails soft upon enchanted wisps
of Spirit’s blown kiss..
wandering a nectar network
weaving amid shaggy blooms gilt-tilled..
a dancer in gold dust
her slipper feet
of light and peace
bring blessings of fruition
to wild-garden's frilly lavender fillies
My mom was quite an all flower expert.
oh yes, she knew all those long Latin names;
I sighed- so to English she did revert.
Grow we whispered- to all those flower dames!
High, high they would all grow in the rich dirt,
blow your seeds- with swirling and whirling games!
Such silly names like bee balm- bugle weed.
touch the soft candy tuft and hearts that bleed !
___________________________
June 6, 2019
Poetry/Ottava Rima/Modified/Watching the Flowers Grow
Copyright Protected, ID 1150-353-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Rima Ottava
sponsor, Charles Messina
Second Place
How can something be so good?
Yet forgotten!
Fragrances that call,
Attention to her beauty
Growing in the wild.
As we pass her by,
Without a care,
Or a second glance,
Not knowing the benefits,
She brings,
Edible flower and leaves,
Soothing in hot water,
Drinking or inhaling,
Alternative healing,
How wonderful a plant,
Medicine for life,
Magnificence growing,
I give her praise,
And adoration,
She infuses her perfume
Garnishing the earth
With potpourri,
Surely I thought!
God must be a woman,
So much creational flare,
Yes! So clever,
Six days she planted
The seventh! Drank its tea.
Wendy Jae
Tomorrow brings the blue bird's song
Hand painted clouds at sunrise
Hummingbirds humming over red bee balm
Bumblebees buzzing with butterflies
Hand painted clouds at sunrise
That very first smile of the day
Bumblebees buzzing with butterflies
Laughing at work and at play
That very first smile of the day
My lungs filled with fresh morning air
Laughing at work and at play
A moment for silent prayer
My lungs filled with fresh morning air
Hummingbirds humming over red bee balm
A moment for silent prayer
Tomorrow brings the blue bird's song
June 12 2017
by Daniel Turner
The rooster led his harem forth
into the garden for a party
There they would dine from mother earth
Aphids on roses, worms they ate harty
Queen Ann's lace was laced with caterpillars
And rolly pollies ate Day Lilies' leaves
Biddies fed 'pon tiny grasshoppers
for summer was there to please
The Bee Balm and Fever Few had not been
touched by summer's butterfles; Rebecca
had yet to open her blooms; Daisies soon to begin.
Spring blossoms now nearly gone, summer the garden wrecker
The rooster, his hens and biddies loved the party
As among the flowers they pranced and ate smartly
Inspired by Cyndi MacMillan's contest not an entry...
When first freed from mother's skirt, still arrayed in white,
dew kissed, peach sweet, blush cored, I dove into
love, Persephone pierced; where ox-eyed daisies grew
within a field abreast a Roman ... in daylight.
Dry merlot overcast the blooded spot on site
where passion flowered upon the box stitched blue
quilt Grandmother with constancy had imbued.
Yet, youth was not enough to make the man contrite.
An omen ran through red bee balm, a hound of black
long-limbed, loosed to pursue the brazen few who dared
to lay unabashed in sunlight, the farmer stared back
from the porch; he saw them run, saw yarrow in her hair.
Ill fated yes, but first love is honeyed and that is a fact;
nothing's sweeter than a maid undressed in open air.
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