Roguing

Posted on by

Ripped from her victory garden
With promises of Roses & Violets
Sugar & Sweet compliments

Tiny poems as pollen

Soon left alone, till in hand
Thistle seed as some parting gift
So goes love to life

Roguing now, she

Mothering nature
In the early Spring sun
Blamed, but cultivating, still

Dream Uncontained

Posted on by

A garden growing
Green as they get
Just for me somewhere

I cultivate from afar
Sunlight and truth, I send every day
Prayers pollinating good, good soil and seed

Evenings, my knees feel a joyful exhaustion
As I sleep, a Dream, rooted, yet uncontained, leans closer
Morning dew brings proof the weeds haven’t won

Will I reap?
Will the weeping wither, then fade from memory?
Watch with me

Blue Boy

Posted on by

The wind blew him in, the one I noticed

Late fall or early — does it matter, for he was the perfect shades of blue and blush

Minding his own damn business, but for feasting in my wildflower garden

I had seed to spare and time

There was not a thing more important than to study an old-new friend that day

Eastern not Western, and I knew him some lifetime before

Naked Again

Posted on by

Join me in this journey back
Hike this grandest path
Yoke again the insight
Of all the universe

Nevermind the cancer
Of grasping and regret
Shame yourself no more
For yesterday was young

Recollect the way you walked
Tending garden business
Buffet again at tables
Filled with faithfulness

Be aware of why and how
To cultivate good truth
Never let the stranger speak
Of technicality

Torch

Posted on by

Beauty me up, artist

Swim through my day, my life
Whirlwind ’round the kitchen
In and out each room, each window
Lingering, busying

Leave no ion, yard, or garden of me unchanged

Then when my heart smiles, long last!
Teach me artistry
That I may take the torch

Something Gardens

Posted on by

A sunny day

On this, the fore-edge of Spring

It looks like something good happens here

In this, the place they renamed, “Something Gardens”

Although I see really only billboards and bungalows and bulldozed-over housing projects

And strangely, no gardens

But there is the color and promise upon everyone’s skin

The special sauce in people’s blood

So I become sure

I plan to see the Something Good that happens here -those “Something Gardens” that mean to grow

So I stay and I work

I help

I sow, that someone else may reap

I wait

And I see that I, too, grow

Clover Inside

Posted on by

The let-go girl, I tell you
See her, be her
Lest they make certain you’ll wish you were her
Your time for helping about
For tending clover, for being home
Gone, then
Wilted, without having seen the sun
Cancelled, before commencement
So plant your smile inside you now
Let go, girl

Define Alone

Posted on by

We are alone, but looking less alone these days, these nights
A bit oxidized, without a second pair O’ eyes to tend to things too
And of gardens, flowers and florals seem to be in season into perpetuity
Libraries, are we, arent we?
May our posterity, should they someday see it so, pity us none