Oh, my precious press, you are my
praise-worthy kitchen helper.
You take a clove of fresh garlic, bland,
and soon it becomes a brilliant burst in
minced, crushed, or creamy paste.
My gentle press, you transform
the wild garlic and tame it in a most
determined and delightful way.
You impart fine perfumery in the air.
You make a delicious marinade possible.
Your actions provide a tantalizing tongue treat
as a succulent addition to marinating
lean red or white meat, or veggies.
Oh, were it not for you, dear press,
my life would be a thankless kitchen
chore, well-intended, but poorly executed.
I applaud your bold audacity!
Deep breath of pure mountain air
Away from chaos a moment rare
Radiant gorse with bright yellow flowers
Thriving on gentle Celtic showers.
Heather growing unrestrained
Amethyst glow over rocky terrain
Fragile primrose a pretty bloom
Charming wildflower dispelling gloom.
Down in meadow look carefully
Lady's Tresses with luck you'll see
Wild orchid, if found, will beguile
Moment of wonder to ponder awhile.
Shelf fungus growing on ancient tree
Really quite beautiful, you disagree?
Wild garlic rampant a favourite of mine
Nature unleashed - perfectly divine.
Pixabay Image: MrGajowy.
the footpaths that stretched
out of sight until never
the parched ground and grasses
when miles seemed forever
wild garlic, the nettles
the heat and the heather
the flies that would zizzzz
past our ears to wherever
the bees in the foxgloves
collecting their treasure
the midges that danced
in a group all together
the butterflies that zigged
and then zagged for good measure
the dandelions drifting
on the air at life's leisure
the long lost hot summers
full of fun love and pleasure
- I remember those walks
and the woods
and that weather.
A glance from the field displays a line of green,
Waving back and forth, for as far as can be seen,
A chosen path the gentle scrub has allowed through,
Human interaction has created steps too,
In the distance.
Meadow's dancing to the swift gentle breeze,
Flower Buds loving every minute, after the freeze,
The river winding its way, repeating the circle,
As trees gaze down.
Ancient buildings wrecked with still an aura of life,
The river rerouted to make way for modern strife.
Gnarled trees still lay strong where they fell,
Old sprouting buds must have a story to tell!
While wild garlic smells all around,
Like a historical museum on this ancient ground.
Mells' Bells.
Not far from a little town in Somerset called Wells
there's a quiet little village, that's name is Mells
the wild garlic grows in abundance there, and stridently smells
But the peace is shattered each Sunday by bells
Mells' bells, Mells bells,
Oh God they're so loud,
Those great bells of Mells
That ring out so proud.
The noise is so loud the church uses shutters,
To suppress the great volume lest the vicar's heart flutters
And to stop a misery down Radstock who complains and mutters,
And to save those in Green lane, Devizes, as it upsets the "nutters".
Mells Bells, Mells bells,
Oh how they thunder,
Those great bells of Mells,
Rip eardrums asunder.
So beware all you travelers, down Somerset way,
Lest you venture near Radstock upon a Sunday,
Best take your earplugs to wear there they say,
'Cos the Mells bells are well hell, despite what you pray.
Mells Bells, Mells bells,
They'll make you deaf,
Those great bells of Mells
Rung by ringers so deft
(c) Ian Diddams 2018
I marvel
At the rich colours
In Springtime as I walk the lanes,
Explore the woods and cliffs of Pembrokeshire.
‘Cliff clover’,
The ‘sea pink’ or Thrift.
Clumps of pink, colonising coasts.
Sapphire blue
Spring Squill studs the turf,
Hugs the cliff tops of Pembrokeshire.
Navelwort
Clings to crevices
In the collapsing dry-stone wall.
Deepest blue,
The sweet bluebell lake
Lies quietly beneath the trees.
Wild Garlic,
Smells waft in the breeze,
Each white flower, a cluster of stars.
Glassy green
Leaves and green flowers,
Strong pungent celery like smell –
Alexanders – the parsley of Alexandria.
‘Moon penny’
Or Oxeye Daisy –
Proud white heads pepper the hedgerow.
Carmine pink,
Proud heads of Foxglove -
A guard of honour lines the lane.
What better
Time and place to be,
In stunning natural Pembrokeshire.
Wild garlic flowers encompassed
her youthful, porcelaneous
neck as she slumbered in her bed.
Two silver crucifix bracelets
securely fastened to both wrists.
Her rhythmic inspirations heaved
the cleavage between her breasts
that deepened on exhalation.
He stood at the foot of the bed
red eyes peering from dark sockets
on a deathly pale, bat-like face.
A sneer revealed behind blood-red
lips two sharp conical canines
that were rendered useless this night.
Happy Halloween!
Sea purslane & wild garlic
A pot roasted rabbit
cooked with boletus fungi
Winter chantrelles
Japanes knotweed
Apple juice
Wild!