A straw man stood fixed upon timber firm,
gazing at Autumn's gilded, moonlit prize.
He, the king of Earth and the winding worm,
she, the pale darling of cold starry skies.
Left in fallow field of harvest' soiled gown,
with sun bleached woolen coat so neglected.
Besotted by her face in freckled frown,
though light falsely owned in Sun reflected.
Few seasons counted in scarecrow's race,
lonely journey, long eons moon must know.
She left locked ever more in Earth's embrace,
while he lay fallen soon in Winter's snow.
Jealous moon keeps watch o'er his button eyes,
from Venus, Mars, and star's envied night skies.
22 October 2019 - New Fall Sonnets Poetry Contest -Sponsored by Emile Pinet
Mary, Mary how contrary
why does your garden grow?
with old tin cans and frying pans
and muddy boots all in a row.
Car piled high with spider's webs
Their spindly smiles, their lovely legs.
Come and say 'Good mourn ye all'
'We live here now and have a ball'
Inside your hut a homeless man.
You gave some tea and made a plan,
To wash his socks so he could go
And get a job and flat and grass to mow
Golden Wonder, Blenheim Blush
A tattie feast chipped, mashed and mushed.
A field of spuds your Mam would cook,
You now don't need your gardening book.
Pippin, gala, Brae burn and Cox,
Fat round red spheres their crunchy Hocks,
Harvest in a late September
To make the wine for next November
Seasons come as turning bicycles
Protecting flowers from biting icicles.
Feeding plants and changing hedges,
Thick hanging blooms, fruits and veges.
Mary, Mary not contrary,
I know how your garden grows.
With careful plans and gardening hands
and many years in the Know.
Hungry and cold as lunchtime came at last
with snatched breakfast a long gone blur,
my urge for food was taste and warmth,
but known; not new, no fads, no frills.
Not sure of how to proceed
I met by chance a well known friend,
a tattie, just baked and filled with mince
so simple meal enjoyed, i'm cheered.
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