garden poems

as spring unfolds and the warmer days meld in with cooler rainy days, my thoughts become filled with the prospect of gardening. i never achieve as much as i plan and its probably in the planning that i gain my greatest satisfaction in almost anything.

i came across a poem that reminds me of something my grandmother and my father both spoke of at a time in my past. always leave a spot for the fairies at the bottom of the garden. here's a helen allingham image (previously featured on this blog) entitled "cow parsley and bluebells"

and so . . .

grandad's garden
by melanie waters

in the corner of his garden, there's a patch he used to keep
all to himself, to allow nature to creep
there are no trimmed edges
or prim, proper hedges
he left his earth still and alone
allowed the forces of nature to roam
he said that you don't always have to be tidy and neat
just watch the beauty of opportunity grow at your feet
he said just watch the earth produce its own glory
and I watched...and held on to his story
my grandad was right
add water and light
behold the sight
there are poppies and flowering weeds
buttercups and oat coloured reeds
daisies gingerly lift their heads
dandelions roar from muddy beds
purple thistles and strange grasses
colours that alight and ignite masses
dark ferns and heathers
dandelion clock feathers
birds foot trefoil, a four leafed clover
my grandad's story is not over
he may have gone, I may have cried
but the beauty he predicted never died


another beautiful spring poem written by e.e. cummings . . .

when faces called flowers float out of the ground
and breathing is wishing and wishing is having---
but keeping is downward and doubting and never
---it's april(yes,april;my darling)it's spring!
yes the pretty birds frolic as spry as can fly
yes the little fish gambol as glad as can be
(yes the mountains are dancing together)

when every leaf opens without any sound
and wishing is having and having is giving---
but keeping is doting and nothing and nonsense
---alive;we're alive,dear:it's(kiss me now)spring!
now the pretty birds hover so she and so he
now the little fish quiver so you and so i
(now the mountains are dancing,the mountains)

when more than was lost has been found has been found
and having is giving and giving is living---
but keeping is darkness and winter and cringing
---it's spring(all our night becomes day)o,it's spring!
all the pretty birds dive to the heart of the sky
all the little fish climb through the mind of the sea
(all the mountains are dancing;are dancing)

---e.e. cummings