Maybe the bed lies about the garden,
Seeing it from a one-eyed supine pose.
The garden, ***** by winter, stands naked
Outside the window, looking in.
The bed is comfortable, complacent;
It doesn’t much care about ragged orphans
Or abused women.
Perhaps it should remember it’s made of wood,
Same as the trees, though it’s covered with
A springy mattress, happy sheets, cottony quilts.
The garden has known spring abundance
And will know it again. The bed has known
Nightmares, sickness and may even learn
About death. In summer the bed will be stripped,
The garden dressed in luscious fragments
Of leaf and petal, hung in perfect equilibrium.
The bed and the garden, like body and soul,
Each needs to remember their debt to the other.

Last night I sat lonely
Wishing for things that could never be
Out my window the moonlight bright on the garden stones
speaks to me

I putter to the gates
Perhaps among the rose bushes
And Lilly beds, I will find
nourishment in nature.

I sit in casted moonbeams
still wishing for things, that could never be
no solace in the garden green
just alone beneath
a midnight scene

I walk by a garden that’s not mine.
Not everyday, but less than I’d want.
It has a flower blossoming right by the gate.

It’s petals are green.  They sparkle with dew.
Bright and glowing at all times of the night and day.

It’s face is fire. Crackling and warm, a beacon to lost souls and small animals. Warming pieces of people that were unknowingly frozen.

It’s stem is lithe. Twisting, gently curving its way up to the sun. Strong enough to hold its head up and not bow to the wind.

It’s roots, enigma. I do not know how deep they go. But I’d be willing to try find find a *** big enough to hold them all stretched out.

I’d wish to have such perfection in my garden.
I’ve tried placing beauty in it, to no avail.
I once even planted a pretty **** with thorns and spikes. It didn’t last either.
Perhaps my land is salted.

Mint was the smell in my garden
Wintergreen made my soul harden
Fashionable stockings and
Mintable stocks
Were refreshing and tainted
All the evergreen stalks.

I shouted and campaigned
for a milder need
But desire shot me
and so did greed.

Sometimes you reach out
through phone cables and the distance of towns and topography,
to tell me you are sorry
for your carelessness
and the barren landscape it created
where nothing could flower

and I add your words to the compost and topsoil I've nurtured
alone
over time and distance
from the heart you broke, sadness and rust and the words you spoke,

to grow my own garden
of flowers and fruit.

As I walk
upon the
pavements,
rain fills the
atmosphere
with endless
rivers, the
people I
pass
create
gardens
of words,
ages will
pass, and
you may
always
relive the
lost art of
conversation,
where two
souls can
become
one, lushly
grown from
the eternity of
beautiful minds,
I pause,
as a tear
within
the oceans
of eyes
In this
night,
lanterns
of paradise,
unaware
of their
own
beauty,
I close
my eyes,
wishing to
sleep
forever,
under the
waterfall
flowing
until the
end of
time,
the
milky
way
opens
from
this chest,
a lighthouse
spreading
endless
depth,
reaching
the hearts
of the
wounded,
I awaken,
and see
a reflection
within the
glass of
a secluded
home,
a man
falls to
the ground
with his
hands
upon the
earth,
his dew
Is mine,
her dew
Is mine,
their
dew
Is the
cries of
my soul,
and so,
I open
my hands,
and cradle
the warmth
of this love
as a birthplace
of healing,
the sun
dawns
upon the
golden
waters,
I enter
the train
with the
other
passengers,
waiting
upon the
journey
to return
home

Yes, I see the blossom illuminated
Between sunlight and shade;
I can even see the crenulated
Line they have made
Between late and high summer
And the evening’s waiting shade.

It is a Rose of Sharon, lavender and fair,
Hibiscus syriaca, a northern guest,
As if gracing some maiden’s hair.
Nearby Lilies dying of strange pests
Divert my vague attention to their neighbor
In the post-monsoonal air.

Down your blossoms weary with days of rain,
Drag low on the heavy boughs.
I have let them grow too high; they are vain!
Sending out showy blooms,
Into the sodden air, yet flimsy and thin,
Fit only for vases in rooms.

would you like to take a walk
through my gardens now with me?
with the loveliest of flower
and the tiniest of pea?

yes?
good,
well come along my darling
now come along it's free,
an let's go to the gardens
to see what we can see

well,
I planted here some garlic
from the garlic bulbs I had
an the bok choy
well it bolted
and I lost it
that's too bad
but still
it had some flowers
though,
so really not so sad,

sigh,
smile now, ; )

see the tomatoes look so happy
lots to can, to cook an share
the cucumbers are plenty
see those guys are everywhere,

those here are purple eggplant
with soft delicate new flowers,
an the weather has been perfect
just so hot with scattered showers

the chocolate mint like poetry
WiLd and prolific
dead head all the marigolds
an boy they grow terrific,

in lovely burning oranges
and yellows
you can eat,
marigolds - nasturtiums
are really such a treat
and eating from my garden
well really can't be beat,

the kale is getting big,
and my peppers hot an mild
the pumpkins taking over
like an ivy envy wild

cosmos and green beans
were started from a seed,
radishes are too,
look-
I snuck 'em in between,

basil and cilantro
rosemary and sage,
I could go on and on
and write another page

but really you should visit
and come to see it now
but thanks for reading this
though vicarious somehow

I'm still happy for to share
my life
and love today
I hope you know I care
an are soon
here on your way
even in grey skies
for the growing I will pray,

and I will be here waiting
tending gardens
come what may.

Ma Cherie © 2017