Best Grower Poems
Aunt June
My aunt taught me...
how to be; a sewer, a grower,
a knower of "things" important.
She taught me to watch the pot,
until it boiled and never look away.
Canning strawberry jelly,
and making sweet marmalade pie
were the easy lessons
in believing in tomorrow.
Blankets made from scraps
to keep the family warm in winter,
kept "devotions" for another year.
Dresses made of flour sacks,
with corn mill colored ribbon...
They were for spring.
Summer was all about the garden,
and planting... "seeds to fling".
We had chicks for a while,
until my uncle lost his job.
Then we had to eat them.
That was a hard lesson in cooking,
"things" you keep close to the heart,
Sacrifice...
beyond dry tears
to feed the ones you love.
My uncle got sick,
and then he died.
June went to work,
ironed for others,
sewed and cooked and made
their lives easy,
as her's was hard.
My aunt never complained.
My aunt was amazing...
a farm woman,
from the mid-west.
She could rope and ride,
and she would never hide
even from
cancer.
My Aunt was a warrior.
I was a rose cored inside your bosom
a verity of truth so seldom seen
place your hand on the spot where I blossomed
you'll feel the shiver of my petaleen
you were the gardener with the warmest touch
caressing my petals, you made me cry
each gentle kiss a floral scented sigh
thanks to my grower I grew up so much
Winds of change have blown and now you are gone
I'm just a dead flower, sitting on your lawn
Feeling the nip of a wintertime frost,
I realize just how much I have lost.
November 27, 2020
Big Potato..for limerick contest
By
Kevin L Fairbrother
Old Joe the potato grower
Was beside himself in sorrow
For down at his boots
Was a hole so darn deep
His potato’s now resided in China
I’m an orchidaholic and for this there is no cure
In my eyes their delicate flowers are pure perfection
My collection numbers 25, although I cannot be too sure
For when I see a new colour I must add it to my collection!
Delicate shades of pale yellow I love
Subtle shades, different colours and hues
Pastel pink blooms sent from heaven above
I find it extremely difficult to choose!
Some blossoms are pure blocks of colour
I could stare at their beauty for hour upon hour
Blooms so unique; each plant differs from another
I carefully nurture every single leaf and flower
Being an orchid grower is incredible fun
Your world I know it will enhance
I can highly recommend it to anyone
Just buy one of these stunning plants
Original poem called 'I'm an Orchidaholic'
amended for My favourite flower contest
Sponsored by Rick Parise
5th March 2014
Narwhal And A Narwhal
Saw the caption of a narwhal and reflected over it
A room for warrior community of north India in poesy?
Was intrigued by the chosen name yet slept over it
It remained there like my mocking mirror
Tweaking me to gear up to put on my armour
Held my quilled sword charted out my action plan
Learnt what a narwhal is, its modus operandi of survival
Its images made me burst into a gregarious laughter
Its poems created a ripple of sorts to tickle my bones
Narwhal and a narwhal for sure are clones!
One in the Arctic and the other in Asia
One underwater and the other on earth
One looks like a whale the other a whale of a heart
The arctic has a toothy tusk grown out of head
The asian has a tusky sword round his waist
The tusk dives deep into frozen water
The sword dives deep into the betrayer
Both the clan protectors live in pods
Attuned to honest truths and energised in empathy
A smooth exterior unless the hierarchical swords are clanging
A unicorn and a grower of corn gormandize on fishy delights
The mythical spirit and the earthly spirit
Embody healing power and if unloved
These loveless souls die in captivity
October 8, 2015
Contest: Impress Me With A Narwhal Poem
Sponsor: Skat A
Ninth
Her eyes begin to sparkle
With joy from within
Pleasure only found from
Sharing the heart with a friend
Elation only known with
The whisper of intimacy baptized
In laughter, smiles, euphoria
Left on the heart who listens
Silently, to the roar of solitary
Gratification taken from the spirit
Who knows the sweetest blessings,
The greatest gift from God’s
Genius, His expressions of care.
Her wonder is alive on her grin
As she digs, plants and weeds
Clearing away debris from the past
Renewing the deep, dark earth
With fresh mulch and bits of protection
From the frost that still could pour over
The lives who have only just begun
As Spring light flavors the dirt
In rich, nutritious sunshine
Her heart is betrayed by the delicate
Growth, the bulbs poking their heads
Through the earth, reminding us all
That the life of the garden is nearly
Ready to spring into this season
With heady, fragrant gifts from
Our Creator, the One who knows us
The way the seasons know the plants
And rain down hope, faith and peace
Through the spiritual light lingering
On prayers and praise poured out from
Those who know the amazing, tantalizing
Charm of the tulips, daffodils and roses
The lupine, the delphinium and dahlia
The luscious love from a quiet, smooth
Poppy, a marigold, a lily or a pansy
All the ones who drench the earth
In persuasive blooms, delicately planned
To color the world in vibrant designs
Her spirit is soaring like the cardinal
Alive with the moments of preparation
Forming cool, dark holes for roots
To awaken to, dig into, forage for
The nourishment that will always bring
Peace like rain falling softly, soothing
Healing the mind of all its anxieties
Sighing like the winds through the branches
Of oak, birch and emerald pine trees
Laurels alive with arising ferns
Exhaling psalms that emerge from the
Caress of God’s breath falling gently
Over the garden where she dances
With flowers who only know her as
The grower, the one with the power
To make even the wildflowers bend
To her will, to her gift for gardening
With a love that is inspired by Him
Giver of the sunshine and the rainfall!
4/18/22
-
Terence a Griffiths of Tyrone or Leitrim!
Did he know but later of 1820 he would be there born
A Flax Grower a renter from landlords of Lord Leitrim's domain
To thresh and sack and cloth and sow by wife and all but slavery go
A brother Bartholemew younger and two rented fields up
They toiled and cut their respective Dromahair tracks for family food and church
Imagined home of limestone scraw and thatch and little more
To Him and Mary had children born but died and died but - James a smile born at last
Year of 42 destined of birth and life much the same
With toil and despair like all the rest of this peopled land
A famine near but river trout and oats and eggs kept going without the potato plant
Blyte and desperation spared on none but those ready those prepared
Not prepared evicted on the lonely green lined road and board of works pittance
For those a fraction better or more a trip to port and bay to look across the sea
Without a family to meet or lodgings to lay
The night before a sorrowful wake of music and porter barrel there
With food and tears and pennies off never to see no more
Terence proud and sad James he sends America to go
And send some money home to mother to lowly sons
She creaks and breaks and steers the stomach
Up and down the drains of hungers pains
The deck to break of wave and sounds and New Amsterdam emerge
Better lands and money sent home to purchase 20 Acres and 2 roods no more
Never to return is not true. A loyal James to Landlord downed and to family too
He roots and spreads and family bear and atained a generation there
But cannot see to bear another ship for those he knows and hates the family split
A neighbour lined up at the poor house and green lane go. He can stand no more
And sacks the postman's bag with others and throws the notice to the ditch
The brutal notice of postman's summons blocks arrests the rabble and gaols the mob
I saw the picture of Limerick gaol a bowler hat not there but pride
Pride in a smile. - James a smile born at last.
Summer Fairy Land
Beyond mounds,beyond dells,
Thorough thickets,thorough nettles,
Athwart sludge,athwart crag,
Into creek,Unto mist,
I dost err upon the ether crest,
I dost stray deep brine,
Rovering hither and thither,
Forth pasty cloud saddle be,
Soaring swifter than the blazing speed,
Soliciting heaven's shower for the peasants
Flow! Flow!Flow!
Flow,thou summer rain pour,
Fall accessible unto plowed soil,
For boors sing their carol of high hilarity:
Ho-Ya-ya!
Greensward bides for bedewer,
Hopper delays to hop,
High and low:
Chirp-chirp -chirp
Far and wide hum,
Pipers doth sing dear,
Coo-oo...Coo-oo! Sing ecstasy.
Oxen bellow, kine low;
Let this weighty yoke be loosened ,
Toiling bulls whine,sigh.
Song thrush,with symphony,
Sing in sweet melody,
Lulla,lulla,lullaby!
Where the butterfly land,there land I;
On the periwinkle sepal I lie;
There I dance whilst bee buzz.
With summer breeze I do blow
Bracing tiring grower in paddy field
Oh! Mercy grower! Swallow me enough sip ! Air crys
Blithely,blithely, Yokel done and yearns ;
Churls unfold smile on lips,
Hope and fantasy lodge in their eyes,
Pleasant whoops,
I sow my yellow kernel below earth,
So shall I reap my fortune to yield lavish,
Leap and rest
I float back to the higher Elysium.
Blessed I!
Date :26/06/2018.
Tis' life I bring to my garden gate
On a palette of colors by my front door
Each day I can play as I cultivate
Many blooms I have spawned as a grower
Many suns, many moons have sweated and swooned
In the coming and going of seasons
But now even more the old metaphor
Has me thinking of all the wrong reasons
For now as I gaze on the flowery state
The day has drawn long and lost its mettle
As the giving up of the ghost Gladiola's fate
And the rankled Rose is shedding its petals
The collapsing Chrysanthemum has irritated the Iris
While the perishing Peony has drawn to conclusion
The senescent Sunflower floundered its prowess
The tired Tiger Lily needs an infusion
Drooping Dahlias and doddering Daffodils
Are waning with dwindling demeanor
No enterprise or miracle can save them with sheer will
Their disposition will never be lusty or keener
It gives a small comfort though to know
That even if beauty fades with the turning of the seasons
It gathers in blossoms of the moments that in our hearts grow
And lasts as true love always fresh, ever pleasing
Tis life I bring to my garden gate
Each day I can play as I cultivate
On a palette of colors by my front door
Many blooms I have spawned as a grower
June 19, 2019
Gemini seeks a new job daily
In summer she might be a disc jockey or a landscaper
In winter possibly a substitute teacher or a nurse.
Fall is for growing pumpkins, so she becomes a grower.
Spring is for releasing dogs from pens, so you will find her
at the animal shelter.
If you cannot amuse her,
confuse her or bamboozle her,
you will not keep her long.
Gemini seeks a new job daily.
The flyer through the letterbox claimed 'pumpkins now half price'
I'll make a pie for Ma-in-law, for once do something nice
I was told to bring a wheelbarrow, maybe a pair of wellies
But all this preparation, still did not prepare me
For when I reached the pumpkin patch, behold, there dazzling bright
Were twenty seven pumpkins, none orange, but white!
I rubbed my eyes and scratched my head, but still they didnt change
And thought inside my muddled mind 'the grower must be strange'
But still I paid the buying fee for my rare and freaky fruit
Rolled it in my barrow and squelched home in my boots
Then when I got it home I sat and stared an hour or two
I wanted orange pumpkin pie but white will have to do
I dont know yet how I'll explain this to my Ma-in law
She'll take one look at anaemic pie and laugh me out the door!
But beggars can't be choosers, I'm just gonna have to blag it
And next time I want pumpkin pie, go to the supermarket
27th October 2011
An Inupiat "slow-grower"
Believed he could sink no lower
When an icicle rose
On the tip of his nose
He won "Number 1 Snow Blower"
* * * *
A cold polar bear did stutter
And folk thought he was a nutter
But God loved him a bunch
And dropped off his lunch
With buckets of peanut butter.
We are the creators of the earth
We are the flower and the sun
We are the light in the universe
Entangled into one
We are love we are joy
We are every girl and boy
We are the sky at night
Never out of sight
We are the voices in the wind
We are good and bad
We are the happy and sad
We are love up and down
We don't wear robes or golden crowns
We are the farmer in the field
The guns that soldiers wield
We are the women and children
We are the darkness and light
We are never out of sight
We are the builder who lays the line
The grower who tends the vine
Old father time
We are the turners of wood
The dinosaurs who once stood
Often misunderstood
All one under the sun
We are the brothers of peace
Together we can release the great power of love
We are the hungry the blind
We are every human kind
We are one
We are the people on the street
We walk to every kind of beat
We are the world
I’d rather be a whistleblower
Fighting for the right
Then just another thistle grower
Plucking out of sight
A whistleblower blows to be
The keeper of our crimes
A thistle-mower painfully
Is catching hell at times
The whistleblower wants to break
The folk who fake on us
The thistle-grower wants to make
The poke redeem the pus
Oh cautiously but selflessly
The whistleblower blows
Oh warily but carefully
The thistle-grower goes
The whistleblower fearlessly
Is fanning freedom's flame
The thistle-grower tearfully
Is plucking just the same.
Just musing in the sun
The dark of night, betrayed by the morning sun,
I sit here on the patio the day has just begun.
Enjoying my breakfast, enjoying the view,
Wondering where to go, somewhere new.
We could stay at home, relax for the day,
Dip in the pool, stay cool in a shady way.
Pack the coolbox with goodies, go off in the car,
Some beautiful places that are not very far.
Gardening done, just need sun feed and water.
I am the Sower and God is the Grower,
We will reap the harvest of God's great hand,
In a splendid array of color, it will look grand.
So the time has now come after all the hard work,
For us to enjoy some days out and forget about work.
© Dave Timperley 09 July 2017