There are some people
who find gardening
to be a very relaxing hobby.
I am not one of those people,
I was born and raised in the city.
The closest to a farm
that I have ever been
is at the supermarket.
But I will admit,
I like the produce section.
and I like picking
Fresh fruit and vegetables.
Everybody in my family
has a green thumb,
with plants growing
on their window seals.
I was not born a green thumb.
But as life would have it,
I am working in two gardens
on the 7 acres of ironbound.
And since the house and property
is owned by my wife's uncle
whose nick name is Shady
I like referring to the place
as the shady rest.
It is here on the
seven acres of ironbound,
that I work with a tractor.
And refer to myself as
Farmer Bob.
1.
Through salt’s spray, on Acadia’s Isle, you I see
A proud vision perched on the far tree
So remote, your features I can barely discern
Until your ivory head does slowly turn
Stacking lenses so your visage I may reach
From afar, ironbound shore has no beach
My heart sings at your distant majesty
From our boat, perfection you are to me
2.
By the garbage near the john on the Homer Spit
Your life a matter of raw sinew and grit
On the lamppost you perch, dirty claws
Fighting for scraps to ravens’ dirty caws
Part Oscar the Grouch, part national symbol
There is no high perch in this life humble
Now just a pretty bird, who’d have guessed it
Proximity would make you less majestic?
© by Author
7/17/16
For contest: To A…
Sponsor: David Lindsay
Last night a dream,
died in infancy, when you
were drawing a circle
of pain in rainbows.
The hurt of blind alleys,
and the rebounding image
of burnt-out candles in night.
The full moon will only enhance-
the burns. I do not want to talk
about the divine will of making
a baby, out of willing or unwilling
surrender. Lines are blurred.
You want to ask the moon-
Are you convinced, it was not
a rape ? A butterfly is snuffed out
in your palm, you do not know.
Satish Verma
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