Best Watering Can Poems
She is learning young
Pure genteel pleasures of a garden
Amid the fragrant roses and towering lupines
Sweet feminine echo of her beautiful mother
She holds up her watering can
A tiny version of the other.
Now she mimics to perfection
The sprinkling of flowers
As she giggles with delight
At birds in secret bowers.
She can't wait for tomorrow
Her duties to employ
She is mother's little helper
And Daddy's little joy
Ponded and becalmed after the downpour, lying in shining stillness, I reflect an earthly existence; above me newly leafed limbs, and beyond, the wild beauty of motley skies in the afternoon’s brightening quietude. On the side of a country back road, I daydream. As leftover clouds drift in light and dark moods across my mirrored face, I ponder the possibilities of ‘what ifs’. What if life had taken me elsewhere - to a different time and place, filling another space, in another form and shape? What if I had fallen soft as a summer drizzle instead, dressing spider webs in misty strings of mini crystal beads.. or had filled a rusty-relic watering can, left behind ages ago beside an ivy-smothered stump.. or maybe had been wind-whipped with a vengeance into a swollen river rough and ready to ride the rapids.. What if, I had fallen as snow eons ago and now was found deep in an ice core in Antarctica.. how exotic! Straying cumulus find themselves captured in my imagination as well as in my liquid looking-glass oval, and my thoughts stray back to the soothing smoothness of my present reality. I know my time here, though sweet, is short-lived; and so I set my pondering aside and decide to seize upon the moment with contentment in my tranquil state of repose.
placid puddle mulls
lost in reflections of clouds -
spring rains laid to rest
Susan Ashley
May 1, 2019
~Third Place~
Contest: Happy Haibun
Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger
DECAYING.
ROTTING.
MY HEART CORRODES IN DUST
OUR LOVE ONCE BRIGHT AND SHINY.
NOW HAS TURNED TO RUST.
YOU USED TO TREAT ME DELICIATE.
I WAS TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE
SO CAREFUL NOT TO DAMAGE ME.
I MEANT SO MUCH TO YOU.
BUT NOW IT SEEMS YOU'VE TIRED OF ME.
BORED WITH YOUR WORN, USED TOY.
FOUND SOMETHING NEW TO PLAY WITH.
I NO LONGER BRING YOU JOY.
SO NOW I LAY ABANDONED.
LIKE AN OLD BIKE IN THE RAIN.
TOSSED CARELESSLY AGAINST A CRIPPLED FENCE.
NEVER USED AGAIN.
I TRULY WISH YOU UNDERSTOOD
THE TOLL YOU TOOK ON ME.
ALL WEATHERED AND PATINAED.
WHILE YOU'RE HAPPY BEING FREE.
YOU SEE MY MIND JUST CANNOT COMPHREND .
HOW YOU LEFT ME HERE TO ROT
LIKE A OLD BEAT UP WATERING CAN
A DENTED CAR LEFT IN A LOT.
I WANT SO BADLY TO BELIEVE
I'LL BE STRONG ENOUGH ONE DAY.
TO SCRAPE THE RUST UP OFF MY HEART
SAND IT ALL AWAY.
UNTIL THEN I'LL JUST LIE HERE STILL.
CLOSE MY EYES AND PRAY.
THAT I WON'T DISENEGRATE AND CRUMBLE
BECOME ASHES, BLOW AWAY.
My Past
Written: by Tom Wright
I refuse to drown in the happenings,
Of perhaps, sordid days, long spent.
For things filed "past" i cannot change,
So they lurk causing me to lament.
My past I liken to a "read only" file,
Where is stored both my days and deed.
Knowing the bothersome can't be removed,
I attempt to cover it with beneficial seed.
But no matter my depth of interment,
Or that from thoughts I've tried to ban.
Satan somehow manages to dig them up,
And stands ready with his watering can.
A Thought
If my past wasn't the teacher
From which I learned the most.
Then in life, I would consider myself failing.
they talk under their breath, murmuring
and the wind sighs and whispers
my garden speaks softly in the rising sun of dawn
in low voices they hum and thrum calling me
come- see how green and lush we are today
see all our brilliant magenta blooms
and the deep purple and yellow trimmed petunia
the herbs grumble we are beautiful too_
and I go- still in my night clothes on tip toes
touching the fragile leaves with love
I whisper to each and caress them
do you need a drink- I mumble still sleepy
oh yes, please they grumble (so spoiled)
and the sun bursts forth and we turn our faces up
and the wind sighs and whispers
I let them drink from my watering can
as they drone a morning song
but they rustle with anger when kitty cat bites a leaf
oh no, no kitty_ I whisper, leading her
to her very own painted pot of oat grass
__________________________
June 10, 2020
Poetry/Free Verse/Garden whispers
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1259-467-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, Whisper To Me II
sponsor, Regina Riddle
Second Place
today was so hot
and my flowers are wilted now
I rush quickly for the watering can
pouring cool water over each
and like magic they raise their heads
I went into the greenhouse to water the plants and flowers
It is my little haven I could stay there for hours and hours
The watering can was heavy with the precious rain
It has been very sunny so I was watering the plants again.
I watered the beans and peas, the tomato plants growing tall
I refilled the watering can; there wasn’t enough to do them all
Moved on to water the melons and the flowering courgette
When underneath the foliage something moved when it got wet
A black and brown toad leap up at me; I thought it was a dream
I dropped the watering can with fright and gave a little scream
Think the toad was pretty shocked at his impromptu shower
So I’ve left him to and hop back and hide under a gerbera flower
Jan Allison
23rd June 2014
The summer sun has lost
its gloss and warmth
And falling leaves are forming
baron tree's
Whilst snow crystals blanket
them in white
And the laundry on the washing
line now takes oh so long to dry
And i haven't taken an
antihistamine in quite a while
Or sat outside on my garden lounger
or opended up the umbrella
And the watering can is just
quietly sat in contemplation
gathering rust and moss
Nature is in the throes of re-gifting
Yet still takes a moment to leave
a parting gift behind of a
christmas tree for us all to
gather around and decorate
One day I had a magical seed. I carried it around in my pocket like a special key. It had the power to change humanity and yet it remained unplanted. The Creator placed it upon my heart to grab a shovel. He instructed me to bury the special seed on a hill where no crows could find it. He instructed me to gingerly care for it and water it each and every day. He was the One who created the seed. I found the most sacred place in my entire town to bury this seed. I sat and watched to see how the wind would blow over this spot too. I knew from past experiences that the elements can be very harsh on a thing so delicate and tiny. I loved this seed and wanted it to succeed.
One day as I gathered at the sacred place I saw a tiny seedling emerge. I raised my hands to the Creator thanking him for his miraculous workings. I said a prayer over the fragile plant emerging and wondered what it would be like several months from now. Oh the potential for its growth!
I came back to view the seedling a few months later and it had grown into a budding sapling. There were the most elegant heart-shaped flowers upon it and the aroma of a true friendship had sprung from the soil in which it was planted. I was enraptured with this tree in wait. I was optimistic how grand it would grow to be!
Years had passed and time was on my side. The tree and I had become the best of friends. I even sat beneath its branches one day and had the grandest nap! I dreamed of miracles and joy and butterflies descending upon its branches. I nurtured it with love and prayers over the years and it was standing before me a miracle from the Creator!
The lessons that I learned from this tree of love were great. I learned that time and patience are truly on our side if we have our hearts in the right place. I also learned that just a little water goes a long way when you consistently take the time to bring your watering can to the seed and stretch out your faith. I also learned that it is good to dream with your friends along the way and hope for the miracles around the bend.
All things are possible with God, a seed, and a watering can!
Gwendolen Rix
11-1-14
Old man wind pulled back the ocean waters
and funneled them into his watering can;
sprinkled them across the state;
over-watering every garden in sight.
A flood, six inches of water invaded my basement;
a three inch wading hole in the street and
a fortune in appliances and furniture was lost.
Afterwards he painted a rainbow in a cloudy sky and
started over again.
His tantrum lasted for two weeks.
Here she comes again with that dingy pink watering can
I’m soaked as it is; I’ve tried to tell her, STOP WATERING!
But no, thirsty or not, I’d better get ready for it
Now Lily doesn’t mind, Peace Lily, that is, she drinks a lot
And that’s her business but I’m turning brown down to the roots
Hey Lily, wake up girl; I don’t like to talk but, PASSED OUT AGAIN!
As for me, is a little soil test too much to ask for?
It’s a bit ticklish, a finger in a sensitive spot
But she’d know that we are all not thirsty at the same time
Well, for now, back to her favorite game, DROWNING IVY!
9/18/17
Summer is here - how I love this time of year! My garden’s filled with sweet scented wallflowers and pretty pansies. Vibrant butterflies are flitting from flower to flower and bees are busy buzzing, pollinating the xanthic melon and courgette flowers. Purple and pink petunias are cascading like a colourful waterfall from two wall baskets. I grab my gardening gloves and set to work with my red watering can giving the parched flowers a much needed drink. Using my garden kneeler is a blessing as I find weeding the fruit and vegetable patches is such backbreaking work!. As I'm weeding I listen to a blackbird singing sweetly as she bathes in the bird bath. I can't help smiling as a friendly robin redbreast flutters down next to me, pecking at caterpillars which are chomping away at the foliage. The summer sun is beating down and I am feeling exhausted, so it's time to sit in a deckchair and relax with a cooling drink, enjoying the natural beauty that surrounds me.
scarlet strawberries
ripe and ready for picking
scarecrow waves straw arms
Haibun contest
Sponsored by Mick Talbot
Entered into Favourite Poem of June 2018
Sponsored by Dear heart a.k.a Broken Wings
There is a good deal of poetic licence in the poem!
6/8/18
I saw a watering can today,
Nothing special you may say.
But as I looked it leaked a tear,
From its spout a poppy did appear.
I looked again and saw a face,
Somehow it didn't look out of place.
'twas a soldiers face upon that can,
He was long gone, but the tears still flow,
As if to say I'm gone, but I want you to know,
This watering can filled with all my tears,
Will grow more poppies for many years.
Many have died, more will, and yet,
We still wear the Poppy.
Lest we forget.
God Bless
© Dave Timperley for 11/11/11/2017
Aunties Tomato Greenhouse
Walk up to the greenhouse,
Step inside the door,
There's a forest of tomato plants,
Wander around, have a look and explore.
Look left, then look right,
Then at the ceiling to the floor,
Surrounded by tomato plants,
There is tomatoes galore!
How did Aunty grow them?
Was it with lots of kindness and love?
And a watering can,
Like rain from the sky above.
Or did the fairy godmother (Aunty Phil)
Wave her magic wand?
And sprinkle a little magic,
That made them so big and strong!
Now step outside the greenhouse,
Take a tomato or two,
They are tasty and delicious,
And also good for you!
1/8/23
I’m sorry.
I watched you box up the conversational life
And kick it across the sod.
I watched you weep at the rain that softened everything.
Things are not the same;
They are not as they seem.
We wind up the dream
And then we wait for the grass to turn green;
For the explosion;
Something more than just anything.
My head was full like a watering can;
I hit the ground at your feet.
You just dragged along with your high hopes,
Your apron full of the glass walls that you broke.
Picking up the shards on your bare hands and knees,
Wondering if anyone could ever really see.
You are bent and I am gashed beyond words;
My hands just tremble when I watch you yearn.
If I were some tall thing, then you might believe,
That in another life, it’d always be me.