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Joe Cole Apr 2015
Every year I try to fill my patch
With colors bright and bold
Wild flowers in abundance
The new mingling with the old
Some very fine seed I mix with sand
And just scatter on the earth
There they have to take their chance
Either germinate or death
Other seeds I treat with care
To give them every chance
To thrive and grow, give me a show
Of natures special wealth
Now my secret for success will now come very clear
It's all to do with toilet rolls and this then is the clue
Take the tube from the finished roll
Then cut the tube in two
Fill them full of compost and place them in a tray
A single seed, maybe two or three
Then are put in place
A little warmth and water
And soon green leaves will see the light of day
Now don't be hasty in what you do
You must give those plants a chance
Strong roots to form and lush green growth
Soon your garden to enhance
Now's the time to plant them out, get them in the ground
Just take that half of toilet tube
And dig a hole so neat and round
In the hold now place the plant
Still in its cardboard tube
Thus no root disturbance
And the tube will soon degrade
I thought I would share this gardening tip as this is the time of year when for many of us the garden calls. Just fancied doing it in poetic form
Joe Cole Apr 2015
Well yes I do carve walking sticks
Not two or three hours
But more like thirty or fourty
But then I saw the connection
Between my poetry and wood
Each takes me into another world
Of rhythm oh so good

Where I hear you ask
Can this connection be made
A poem and a walking stick
This man is surely mad

But think dear friends about a how
poem does evolve
You start with just a single word
Then watch the poem grow

I walk in the woodlands
I walk the forest ways
And I see things
That you might miss
In the coppiced hedgerow lays

And so with my trusty folding saw
A wooden stave lies in my hand
Perfectly straight or warped
Wood, oh wood so grand

And so just like poetry the plan
Then starts to form
With penknife and a wood rasp
A walking stick is formed

Sandpaper grades decreased
And long hours pass
Eventually that rough hewn stick
Attains the sheen of glass

Yes I carve sticks with rustic pride
Never do I miss what the cuts might hide
When I write it is with love
I can edit a poem
But not a walking stick
Joe Cole Apr 2015
I rise aloft above the springtime scene
Of ***** grey browns and softest greens
As from the twig new life is born
Of catkin,leaf and newborn fawn
And dotted here and there clusters of white
Mewling lambs born in the night
Busy birds encumbered by grass and twig
Eager to create a place to live
A nest so architecturally built
Lined with down so soft and sweet
And so the golden daffodil
A golden jewel in springtime sun
Her face a picture of delight
From dull green to gold in dark of night
This then is natures way
Gone now winters grey cold
Welcome springs warm days
Joe Cole Apr 2015
Aspects of love
Love, love changes everything
If I live or if I die
Yes love changes everything
Real love
Not passionate nights
Naked and entwined
More the goodnight kiss
The gentle touch
The joining of two minds
Yes love, love changes everything
The mutual joining of two souls
Yes love, love changes everything
And makes you mine
To forever hold
Joe Cole Apr 2015
Burning bridges
Kellys hero's
Says so much
About the indecision of the young
And the chances failed to clutch
We all have burned those bridges at sometime in our lives
And then looked back with deep regret
As we struggle to survive
Burning bridges
Joe Cole Apr 2015
Well yes
It is nearly summer
My beautiful manicured lawn
Well no......
Burnt brown patches from dog wee
Beautiful minutely planned to the last detail
Flower borders
No, where have I gone wrong?
Flower seeds mixed in profusion
Scattered, germinate where they fall
Scratched up in heaps by my cats
But I don't really care about that
Let's face it, be honest
Walk the woods and country hedgerows
Nature doesn't care
Doesn't care for color coordination
Or how the picture should look
Come on now the hated **** has its part to play
Just let the bees and butterflies
Enjoy this floral display
Joe Cole Apr 2015
Just been looking at my profile
Written so long ago
I'm not a poet but a simple dreamer
Who only dreams of being a poet
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