"nasturtiums" poems
The morning brings the moths
her cupboard bare,
she attempts to prise the day
what to wear?
snatching thoughts all is balance
nasturtiums or foxgloves,
crumbling trellis stakes
she wraps a blanket around herself
and sits in the garden , guarding motionless
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 5:31 PM UTC
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
Jul 22, 2017
Jul 22, 2017 at 1:03 PM UTC
If I thought these dreams
Of things
Unattainable
Were things meant
To glide easy
And tread upon
The arcs
Where
All the clouds
And doubts
Of every
Enigmatic
Tragic
Thing
Stopped
There'd be thought
Persuaded
Lost
Leather men
Thoughts
Of some avoidable
And some
Unexplainable
All of them trickle
With smiles
Growing deeply
Into space
That is submission
Dismissing
Nothing
Sleeping and dreaming
On my
Hard wood floor
Anywhere
Just to be
Close
To something
Grow
Into nothing
The break
Of snapping lead
The twists
And winding sockets
In all
The empty pockets
I've wanted
Masquerading
Patterns
Entertaining
Anything
I'd take anything
For a real night
Maybe,
A truth fight
That emerald ice
Where I create
Some illusion
When all things
Fade
No longer missing
The attainable
But creating
Elusive paths
Where I am
No longer trapped
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 9:01 PM UTC
You know apart from writing poetry I design gardens for other
people just as an unpaid sideline
But come and take a look in my garden.
Rough laid brick edging round the lawn and I do mean rough
you wont see a dead straight line there
Flowers, hot oranges intermingled with reds and gold
No
Plants carefully chosen for form and texture
No
Rather a jumble of wild and cultivated plants doing their
own thing
White campion, red campion intermingle with white and yellow daisies
Scarlet poppies vie for space with rosebay willow herb
Sage and thymes in profusion
Great clumps of lemon balm mixed in with chives and lavenders
Foxgloves and hollyhocks in places they shouldnt be
Wild mallows and geraniums growing where they choose
And running wild my favourites of the flower world
nasturtiums
That then is my garden, my retreat, my oasis of calm
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 4:03 PM UTC
On our dining table, every dish is a dime-store pattern:
blue dandelions, red nasturtiums, the entire stack,
a small legacy won in a 1959 coin toss . . .
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 8:14 PM UTC
The crimson hue in the dusk.
A girl with nasturtiums.
And the streets are starting shaking
like dikes.
The sea is tiptoeing.
A picture of a Dutch.
And of my heart.
The original:
Момиче със латинки
Пурпурната краска в мрака.
Момиче със латинки.
И улиците се разклащат
като диги.
На пръсти е морето.
Картина на холандец.
И на сърцето ми.
Преводач Български-английски: Савова Vessislava
rarebird
© bogpan - всички права запазени.
Dec 30, 2010
Dec 30, 2010 at 12:36 AM UTC
If I had told you
that I was made of mud and soil
and grass and sea water
combined over two decades
you wouldn't have understood.
If I'd said my bones were branches
my hands blooming nasturtiums
my toes pebbles on a beach
on the east coast of England
you would have rolled your eyes.
If I'd said your skin after a shower
smelled like warm ground after rain
and your voice was honeycomb
your kisses strawberry jam
you'd have found it strange.
I've known you seventeen years
yet we don't know each other at all.
If I'd told you everything I believed
you'd have thought me childish.
You never did like poetry.
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 4:53 AM UTC
I only like nasturtiums
only bachelor’s buttons
calendula
I think you only like me this way
only soft and silent
when apparently you love her any way
I am soft and loud
I am the rose, the thorn, and the petal
The rapids
and Her love
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 11:52 PM UTC
And so my garden I did fill
with nasturtiums bright and clear
they did with colour fill the space
they did not my eyes disgrace
Black fly is their only foe
and so the black fly have to go
I'm going to ****** them
And so with a bottles deadly spray
I did deluge them, end their play
I did with soapy water end attack
By those who would drink the sap
of the plants I so admire
Yes nasturtium is a simple plant
unlike the rose not worthy of a second glance
but it belongs to me
You see.... the fresh young leaves are a tasty treat
even the flowers are a tasty treat
In a salad for your tea
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 8:40 AM UTC
Grass cuttings savor an essence, if it were not for the flavor of gasoline added to it. Chores multiply in the garden as days snug up to summer. Warming theory of companion planting goes further than marigolds with tomatoes. Nasturtiums nuzzling cornstalks nicely agree. However, it is the editing of more combative creepers that keep this gardener flustered among the mustard greens. I'm inclined to let it all go, but the peanut grass gets so thuggish, someone needs to teach it a lesson. Yet, full eradication seems too vicious as hummingbirds do adore its frosting of bells. It's a nectar aggrandizement they throb upon in throngs. So, who am I to commit holocaust? After all, with the loosening of soil it provides when pulled, aeration is a welcome aftermath.
So it is continuous, and outright perfection in the pull and push of entirety. Now if I might trade that gas mower in for a push one, a transcendence of impeccability may occur. I might even breathe better.
Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 12:24 PM UTC