Carl Sandburg
Life is a garden; What’s not to like?
You can’t grow an onion without proper soil.
You peel back the rocky top and remove it,
You haul off the dirt next; there’s no lack of toil.
One layer of compost to place at the bottom,
another of oak leaves, well past their time.
And sometimes, delightful, the straw from a horse barn:
earthy, nutritious, amendment sublime.
You tend, and you water your beautiful garden
A fence of protection enhanced when you pray
But He who made onions put snakes, without pardon,
And there will be weeping when plans go astray.
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This also contains the same embedded Carl Sandburg quote.
The poem is “ok”, but I liked the “Keola - Rhyme” better.
I see them clearly, although they try to remain hidden.
They laugh, and talk, flirting with each other.
Why can they not see I would like some alone time?
I never get that any more.
This new foreman is a great guy, but there is always music now
Or talking or a pretty girl, visiting, bringing muffins.
I liked the blonde one last week; she brought me an apple.
I stand here, silently, not making fun of them, but wanting to.
Seeing them clearly is my favorite thing to do.
She is not making headway; I know because of his stance.
He is a great guy, but should not play poker.
He has so many tells, I will be able to get an apple.
I stand and wait for the blithering and blathering to stop.
He is too polite. He needs to get rid of them faster.
Plus, he is my man. I do not share easily.
I wish I could step on her foot. I really do.
day’s light quickly fades
rumbles from mighty jaws near
bitter winds utter their last gasp
my arms are in a flurry
bare branches lash against the farmhouse
struggling to avoid the chimney’s embers
“Snap,” the sound rings out
pain I bear as I split in two
crash-landing on the horse barn
sunrise comes again
displaying carnage below
nearly lifeless, my tears fall like rain
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