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camps 6d
going outside nowadays is just a game of
who can hold their breath the longest and of
looking for reasons to pass the time in your
own backyard but the gardens i see are only for
the literary muses haunting writers into submission
and for digging up holes with plastic shovels and
for wishing that i could pick up the daisies
and place them in your hair

i was in the middle of drawing a circle when
my arm quivered and now the line shoots
way past the paper and it's currently
undulating over my desk and zooming past
a caterpillar that's contemplating whether the
process of becoming beautiful would actually
make him beautiful when he already knows
that he is beautiful

i hope the god i pray to forgives me for
making all the lines i write be about you
this poem makes me picture a certain someone
title inspired by a certain someplace

from my new book anywhere but here
Kitten Yvad Mar 28
it seems to have taken
mold now but there
are no cold sounds where

verdant things kiss
the mountain rounds

and i promise this
where audobon park
grows listening, sighs are
met to sighs where homes are

you know this;
that it's not far
Betty Oct 2020
Walk in a garden
Tending flowers costs us time
The love is for free
Betty Sep 2020
Japanese gardens
Sew balance and harmony
Tall peace flowers grow
Lewis Wyn Davies Sep 2020

In the garden with the cherry tree -
where daffodils curb the fence -
cats in long grass stalk the birds
and the rhubarb patch is bursting.

The back of next door's shed.
A white wall of pebbledash.
It's one almighty canvas,
the same size as a goal.


In the garden with a trampoline centre -
first love sits poised in morning air -
though we haven't shut our eyes all night,
we're more alive than ever here.

King of the burning woodpile.
Trimmed weeds in a mound.
Neighbours chirping out of view.
Sport scores over a blaring tune.


In the garden that's become a home -
close to my place of worship -
guests wave outside the temple,
years and years of well-wishers.

Looking out for hedgehogs.
Feeding a family of foxes.
Like a wave in my brain,
memories come flooding in.


In the garden that was aforementioned -
long after daylight has drowned -
a friend of mine sits next to me
and we gaze through broken cloud.

We've seen everything here:
sun, rain, snow and hail.
This garden knows all my pain
and has helped me to heal.
Poem #12 from my collection 'A Shropshire Grad'.
-elixir- Aug 2020
The gardens of perfumed bliss
make me stop and stare as the
fumes run through me,
igniting the odes of passion
that once died in the drought
of the wilted roses in my dreams.
the perfumed musk wraps me as I stop in my tracks
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