Posts Tagged ‘relationships’

preparing the soil

In gardening on September 28, 2010 at 12:20 am

Break me down. 

Break my rocks.

Break my crust.

Crumble me between your judging fingers.

Renew me, prepare me.

To produce again.



In gardening, relationships, worry on September 26, 2010 at 3:05 pm

The gardener frets about the sunnier side of the garden.

The flowers in the shadows laugh how he concerns himself with fairness.

the gardener is sorry

In gardening, poetry on September 12, 2010 at 2:41 pm

“In the garden it’s easy to slip on your words.” This is how the gardener apologizes.

The trees, the flowers, the fruits, the vegetables, the birds, his wife, have heard this before.

They hope it is a long time before the next time.

surprise attack in the garden

In gardening, poetry on September 12, 2010 at 2:30 pm

The humming bird damaged my moment

stopped my heart

Beat my calm with its flutter

gardening is work

In gardening, poetry on September 11, 2010 at 8:20 pm

There’s no off season for the gardener, no slow times.

Late bloomers is for flowers.

the tender gardener

In gardening, poetry on September 11, 2010 at 12:49 pm

The gardener charms the flowers.

He sways his fleshy face, flapping his jowls.

“Again!” They beg, bending over themselves.

“First show me your best pose.”

Instantly they stand in unison, bright.

“Perfect little things.” He sighs.

This is the tender gardener. The one he wishes he could be always.

Impossible, of course, with shovel and shears and chemicals.

But in this patch of sun, on his knees, he is thankful.

“You!” they cry, “Now you!”

flowers’ revenge

In gardening, poetry, relationships, spirituality, Uncategorized on September 10, 2010 at 2:13 pm

We call on our friends the bees to sting him.

Again, again!

On the ripe blue vein on his hand when he bends over to snip.

At his neck as he swipes and jerks. 

Thank you,  and again, please.

Oh the joy in his agony and twisted dance.

“Ouch!” is a funny word.

His cursing upsets his wife. She loses sympathy, calls him a child and slams the door.

Spiders get him! Touch his face! Bite hard!

Breathe in his groaning prayers!

Amen brother and sister bees.

We flowers don’t belong in vases besides photographs of dead people.

Kind as we appear, we have our ways.

enemies in the garden

In Uncategorized on September 8, 2010 at 1:54 pm

Weeds are not the enemy of the garden

The gardener is

He has sworn a vendetta on weeds

We are not welcome here he says

I will kill you and your family

The weed lives in fear and sleeps badly

Forced to sulk into self-hatred

The only satisfaction for the weed is to watch the gardener hack

and miss andslice into the neck of his beloved flowers

And hope for melanoma

from with to versus

In gardening, poetry, relationships, spirituality, Uncategorized on September 7, 2010 at 5:52 am

The gardener and his wife are fighting about the rules.

She won’t do anything he wants it seems.

And he thought the garden was difficult!

And she thought the house was difficult!

When did it go from with to versus?

the garden is in the house

In Uncategorized on September 7, 2010 at 4:13 am

The gardener’s wife stomps her boots, ‘There! Again you bring the garden into the house!’

The gardener brightens, ‘That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me , my rose.’