Horticulture? truly awesome!
Granddaddy’s timeless illusion -
one giant synthetic blossom
swirling midst rustic seclusion.
Fascinated by back-crossing,
Pop experimented in silence.
Sleep was spent turning and tossing
weird ideas, odd incidents.
His gigantic bogus blossom
would emanate from these night-swings.
He had heard that you could cross some
old parent plants with their off-springs.
Such horticultural incest
troubled Pop’s moral conviction.
Botanic genes lost his interest,
guilt became an affliction.
He took up artistic venture
creating flowers of pottery.
The last one he made, the clencher,
shines in his orchard's rockery.
Categories:
rockery, 11th grade, flower, mental
Form: Quatrain
My humble tribute to our dear poetess of Soup, Andrea Dietrich as she will be celebrating her birthday on September 5. I am posting this poem earlier, so that she gets more wishes on her birthday and that it be a memorable one.
A brilliant poetess of the Soup family,
Never does she fail to encourage new poets;
Diligent in doing her duties with zeal,
Relishes watching movies and writing reviews,
Enjoys cooking and eating healthy food.
At home, a loving wife, mom and gramma.
Dedicated in doing her job as a teacher.
Inspite of her busy schedule, I wonder when I see
Each day, a fresh exquisite flower of verse,
That blooms and adorns her poetic rockery;
Reaches out to all dear members of Soup,
Inspiring them with her genuine comments;
Cheerful, charming, lively and fun-loving:
Her upcoming birthday will be incomplete sans all your wishes friends
Categories:
rockery, birthday, tribute,
Form: Acrostic
Ten years ago I was bereft.
My garden began when you left.
Literally on my hands and knees,
clearing paths among surrounding trees.
Uncovered were the root of one tree,
winding it's way around the rockery.
Rusted gardening tools, a fire grate,
children's toys and a wrought iron gate.
The sweat on my brow healed my heart.
Then buying plants, I made a start.
From the smallest alpine to the tallest tree,
I now have two hundred and eighty three.
My garden brings me so much joy,
it feels as though it was my buoy.
To see such beauty lifts my heart.
Each bud unfolding playing it's part.
Now the children are up and gone,
in the peace I hear the birds' song.
Time to reflect and sip some wine.
Gosh, I'm glad this garden's mine.
09/06/2020
Garden Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Dear Heart
Categories:
rockery, celebration, garden, growth,
Form: Rhyme
PRUNING THE ROSES
Prune Roses here, Prune Roses there,
Dancing in my garden,
With Sweet William and Fred Astaire.
Wallflower there, Gardenia over here,
My Fuchsia’s looking bright,
I’m going to retire this year.
Working on the Rockery,
and making it a Dahlia routine.
The Hydrangea looks wonderful,
Magnolia’s standing supreme.
Perennials in here, Heather over there,
Talking to my Sunflower,
Petunia’s shrug and stare.
Slug pellets there, Slug pellets here,
Touch my French Marigolds,
and its salt on your tail my dear.
Love to spend the day, working in my garden,
Then relax in the evening sun.
Surveying creation all around me,
With a nice Cuppa and a Currant Bun.
Categories:
rockery, appreciation, flower, garden, retirement,
Form: Rhyme
Hark the skylark sings o'er meadow.
Sings or fights to let rivals know;
the robin claiming territory.
Sings his claim, his sincerity.
A blackbird cock sings his claim so.
The rooks in yonder rookery.
Caw, peck and claw in mockery.
To let their life mate, their proud beau.
Hark the skylark sings.
To pursue an act, thievery.
A double act of mockery.
South, a copse borders the meadow.
Come the noon, it's all in shadow.
West, east, north, dry stone rockery.
Hark the skylark sings.
Categories:
rockery, nature,
Form: Rondeau
Birds to watch r' alotta fun
In the garden while they play
Alongside weeds and shrubs overrun
They flock to the open outdoor spray
Which cools them off when they come
To scrabble and sachet for airplay
Hummingbirds to watch r' alotta fun
Their long, narrow beaks survey
Pollinating flowers, while scattering seeds in the sun
Flying through the fine mist, open air spray
Searching on flower dung
For nectar from blossoms display
Butterflies to watch r alotta fun
Drinking from shallow puddle lots
Hang on flat flowers as they sun
And on dim, draggy, ho hum, rocks, sunny spots
To themselves to warm their wings some
Perched on a sunny branch, grass stem lots
Tis' all shelter, breeding places, nesting sites
For O' beloved winged creatures n' rockery orchard delights
Categories:
rockery, bird,
Form: Free verse
Lay to rest the spiritless low spirit
In the catacomb of 'Auld Lang Syne'
Cultivate the rockery of life with
The beautiful seeds of blessed wisdom shine
That will awaken the growth that thou hast
Hoping brightly blossoms awakening
When each, without fail, true to faithfulness
Shall find his reward in true believing
Spray seeds of knowledge with self-confidence
O' embrace for the rightful harvest reap
Exercise the time to sow heartfulness
For the powers of pure wisdom shine deep
Thus goodness, Alas! To the rightful man
Tis' of your new creativity plan
Categories:
rockery, wisdom,
Form: Sonnet
I am standing in my garden amongst the beautiful flowers,
when a kaleidoscope of butterflies comes silently drifting.
Past my lovely primrose rockery, so bright and brilliant,
they find a purple cornflower by the fence just blooming.
All the colorful butterflies stop to kiss painted daisy,
then glide to the red bleeding hearts that are drooping.
They settle for a rest on the white campanula trumpets,
and give a gentle touch to the columbine just growing.
The blue larkspur called them over it seems to me,
so those tiny gems prance on over with joyful dancing.
Between yarrow, sage and yellow tick seed in bloom,
they spot purple echinacea and just came a flying.
The kaleidoscope of whirling wings is perfectly still,
then the parade of butterflies leave on wings fluttering.
But first- stop for a quick sip from my water fountain,
and then gone the colorful kaleidoscope of gems gliding.
_________________________
May 8, 2016
Poetry/Couplet/"Fly Gems"
Copyright Protected, ID 16-787-860-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, A Kaleidoscope of Butterflies,
sponsor, Julia Ward
Third Place
Categories:
rockery, butterfly, garden,
Form: Couplet
Ah, Spring my soul you do delight
and smells of the fresh greenery
with the tranquil sounds of the night.
No more does winter's cold us bite
making folks tug scarfs and scurry
Ah, Spring my soul you do delight.
The silvery moon shines so bright
setting alight the scenery
with the tranquil sounds of night.
Life reaffirms with buds so tight
and chicks with down so feathery
Ah, Spring my soul you do delight.
Flowers a most colourful sight
tumbling down the rockery
with the tranquil sounds of night.
Lambs frolicking with great delight
as magpies screech with mockery.
Ah, Spring my soul you do delight
with the tranquil sounds of night.
Categories:
rockery, life, night, spring,
Form: Villanelle
I have another passion apart from poetry.
It's my garden, left by the gardener.
In a state of wilderness.
Two years later, with tools in hand.
I've made it into a wonderland.
Take my tea out each morning at eight.
Feed Pushcat from a plate.
Peace and contentment always come to me,
as soon as I am sitting under a tree.
With a book and a beer, or a glass of wine.
Breathing slows down, lose track of time.`
In front of the house, six raised beds.
Pebbled paths with weeds poking through.
It's back breaking work getting rid of all you.
Behind is the rockery.
Summer seats dotted here and there.
A home made swing from a little arm chair.
Peaking out or on full display,
sculptors and statues.
Gnomes with fairies trapped under glass.
Busts and torsos, with breasts to look at.
Above it all, my little den.
Buddha at the entrance, it's all so Zen.
Where I go to relax and hide.
From children and noise and the world outside.
Categories:
rockery, garden,
Form: Rhyme
With all the pomp and viscosity
The spectres flooding out a sepia
Screen of childish scribbles
Bleached into the paintwork
Autograph collections full of
Unknown people who achieve
Little seldom of and incomplete
Thereof from another Kings' Cross
Day passes with slurry flood
A thick crude oil slick settling
On the fester where love is love
But life always gets cat called trapped
Between a rockery and a conservatory
Greenhouse blossom stuck
Never growing, wilting into
Shoes and stirrups, the Valkyrie
Tide of blonde candlesticks burning
An empathetic subtitle in the
Bunting of promenade pretence
The man child turns to jump
Into canvas blues of money under pillow
Categories:
rockery,
Form: Free verse