Towering weeds out of control
The unkempt garden has completely taken over
Neighbour must finally admit defeat
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
my lilac tree did not know she was a bush
within ten years she flourished with a swoosh
she outgrew every tree except the oak giant
lilac tree is a hundred foot tall, shade very reliant.
The overgrown Amazon ape
With his furry tree trunk wide nape
Flew over wearing a red satin cape
Birds cringed at his cumbersome shape
He carried a bag made of crepe
In plum, fuchsia and possibly grape
A fancy one-of-a-kind hairy ape
neglected fruit trees
moss covers old water trough
ivy climbs through fence
*My grandfather was always outside cleaning the brush away and now that he's passed it's just left undone.*
I'm not quite up to snuff,
should the wind give me a puff
I'd simply fall over
like a worn-out clover
that's lost its own shadow
in an overgrown meadow
You say your room is a confinement
where you’re forced to have tea parties with your greatest enemy; your thoughts
But looking through your window from the overgrown path,
You room looks like a palace to me
And as far as I can see, there’s no crusade out to take your land back
The only force driving the dichotomy of nirvana vs. under siege, is you
So do yourself a favor and lay your swords to rest until the final cue
Fall back into bed and thank your posters hanging over head
That your innocence has worked for and not against you
Conferring with coffins to abstain at any cost
Only for me to realize
That I didn't find you
‘cause you were never lost
Countering-protesting the coroner
Tracking my lucky stars like an astronomer
Only for me to suffer through stuttering speech
Of how I never really found you
cause you were never really lost
Look into the center of my black circles growing wider
And see the portal to hell I’ve absorbed inside
I’ve never had so much hate in my heart
I’m grappling with the absence of you more than ever
But I never really found you
cause you were never really lost
Hedge
Nature won't be tamed
His hedge grows tall, needs cutting
My view is softened
5-7-5 syllables checked with howmanysyllables.com
25 June 2022
Outwardly I love the outdoors
Internally I hold resentment
I hate the loneliness
Despise the isolation
Loathe the alienation
From the rest of humanity
There is no escape
As one is incapable of flight
15 minutes to the nearest business
And 15 more to public transport
I mutter to myself
As I wander this overgrown weed
That some refer to
as a garden
Spring is here as well as the weeds,
they are growing profusely all over,
thinking about weeding the front garden,
it means bending down and yanking,
as they scream and are chanting.
Determination is my mood as I pull,
each time I approach them they cringe,
not wanting to be the next victim,
clearing one spot I discover more,
making this project quite a chore.
Some have pretty flowers as a subterfuge,
a deceit so they will last all summer long,
stubborn roots are buried and embedded,
requiring a trowel to dig into their obstinance,
a way to kill overgrown weeds on continuance.
At early twelve, motherly words echoed
Of the self, becoming a lady one January eve.
No, it can’t happen, as a pale navel ached when
Another unintended milestone had begun—
Those rubber sneakers fondly overused died
On a pink carpet, that I could not understand
How unusually larger my almond eyes
Woke a year after: Tucking my dear book-
‘Neverending Story- ’ round hips would prance
Through autumn rain finding me at the junction
Of in-betweens ( kid and teenager), confused …
I missed all overgrown sneakers, even PlayDoh
quivering in anticipation that... I might not belong.
( Not entered in any challenge)
Submitted to Brian Strand's Contest 530
The weeds are squeezing around the flower beds in every corner of the yard.
They seem to grow a foot or two each night, smothering dainty flowers,
Sitting on them, squelching them, happily growing, strangling them.
Similar to the ways inconsiderate controlling people smother others,
Overgrown bullies who squeeze their victims, killing without conscience.
I race out there with clippers, an axe, leather gloves and a hoe. Chopping away.
Wishing as I chop that I could eliminate overbearing bullies in a similar way.
I've wandered this old graveyard a thousand times.
Cracked and broken stones rise up like a long-deserted town's skyline,
Each marking a last breath, heartbeat, supplication to God,
Each the only reminder of a soul no longer walking this earth.
The stones are old and weathered, worn grey with age.
Much like the lives they represent, dates and names have faded,
Absent hearts break and empty sockets witness
That these lives, metaphorical and real, are overgrown with vines.
It's a lonely town, that old and forgotten cemetery.
Weeks, even months can go by without a single visitor.
Our grip on this world and the people in it is as weak
As a single thread in a spider's web: death's scythe cuts it cleanly.
Silence had consumed him, since the time
she left for eternal peace and now she only
visited him in his dreams.
With headstone covered with moss and
overgrown vines he couldn't believe that
too many years passed in loneliness.
Her carved name was hardly visible even
in bright sunlight, but he recognized her
final place of rest.
Vines were in love with her too, he thought,
they earnestly held her headstone with
their tangled arms.
He felt no fear, left her in their care, in sun
and rain, as he knew they were there while
she rested in peace.
A twig from a vine, he used as pen and wrote
on the headstone covered with green moss -
'remembering you on our fiftieth wedding anniversary'.
Sept 30, 2016.
Overgrown With Vines - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Broken Wings
Overgrown With Vines
Three meatless, boney, fingers clawed
at the hard dirt, glistened in the emptiness,
cursed the damnation of the full moons lie.
Death and the shallow grave had come quickly
a sharp metal edge the instrument of both.
The vines, the ever growing, ever reaching
strangling vines had come much slower,
clutching and grasping the remnants
of an unexamined death.
He had fought them, the vines,
struggled to raise a hand, to signal
the intruders of his silent hell.
Slowly he succumbed to his fate
gave up the ghost of justice delayed
relaxed into the dirt and stone
accepted the anonymity of a life
the ignominy of a death
overgrown with vines.
9/29/2016
submitted to – Overgrown With Vines – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Broken Wings
Upright
Overgrown tree
Full with shadows
Still longing for the sun
Looking for the glowing orb
Needing warmth
Russell Sivey
A Vignette
Sub Categories
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