Fragrant breezes gently sway the vivid garden greenery
Spiders quietly spin their webs, aware they blend into scenery
Peacocks stroll on the path, their fancy feathers on grand display
My camera always ready to immortalize the Day
Poinsettia, amaranthine hued, planted by ancestors
Shadowy shapes stroll, smiling always watchful, predecessors
Gardens hold secrets from their origin, buried evermore!!
Fragrant breezes float my curly hair, once black now mostly gray
I daily tend my lush Gardens; days melt into many years
Ancient source of “doorway”; I drink coffee and silently guard
Tending The Garden ©Lady Dragonwyck (9 Sept 2007)
A CinqTroisDecaLa Rhyme – by Laura Lamarca
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
-
I love tending to my garden, it is my favorite past time, but it gets not the care I would like for I'm too busy tending to everyone elses. My is always last on the list. thanks for the lovely poem to remind me that spring will soon be here. Jennifer
-
i am a gardener - sort of - i grow things i cannot kill and will not die by my over-care and worried watering - i do enjoy digging in the soil and planting, always hopeful something I’ve just purchased will survive more than a few weeks, always shocked when they do, always. Stanley Kunitz, the author of “The wild Braid” I was particularly moved by this portion of his book where he writes about the process of writing poetry and what constitutes a meaningful poem.
"Almost anything you do in the garden, for example weeding, is an effort to create some sort of order out of nature's tendency to run wild. There has to be a certain degree of domestication in a garden. The danger is that you can so tame your garden that it becomes a THING. It bcomes landscaping.
In a poem, the danger is obvious; there is natural idiom and then there is domesticated language. The difference is apparent immediately when you sense everything has been subjugated, that the poet has tamed the language and the thought process that flows into a poem until it maintains a principle of order but nothing remains to give the poem its tang, its liberty, its force. Once the poem starts flowing, the poet must not try to dictate every syllable."
may all your poems grow free and blossom as fully as this one does .
blessings and best wishes,
~r.
-
-
I could not agree more with the following
In a poem, the danger is obvious; there is natural idiom and then there is domesticated language. The difference is apparent immediately when you sense everything has been subjugated, that the poet has tamed the language and the thought process that flows into a poem until it maintains a principle of order but nothing remains to give the poem its tang, its liberty, its force. Once the poem starts flowing, the poet must not try to dictate every syllable."
-
-
very Nice piece
I love gardening, it was one of the deeply heart felt things I grew in common with my mother. She passed now but I still have plants we grew together over the years.
Some spider plants that are going on 40 years old or more now. Your poem leaves a soothing very real and calm feeling in my thoughts.
"Spiders quietly spin their webs, aware they blend into scenery" liked that line something people don't normally note, the spiders. I used to love playing with the trap door spiders around the garden geraniums when I was a small boy.
Very nice write
David
-
Well written, the imagery is outstanding, great rhyme as in poetry a picture also immortalizes the moment at hand..well done, have a lovely day, Ken IBT
Adding your comment:
1 - 5 of 5
