The garden has been blooming Flowers of every hue unfolding The verdant stalks and leaves Jostling for an embrace of the sun My glory in full display; its regalia
The soil was once stony lifeless Amendments, turning and raking Creating a loam — a gardens foundation Casting the stones to the margins Lovingly kneading it into condition
This too speaks truth of life itself The mix is lacking bland at first Amendments added in the learning The lessons cast off from those around Settle on the innocent minds implanted
Weeds too, grow well in unbalanced soil Lessons that lack integrity root fast Tapping deep into a being’s very soul Without the lessons of virtue’s worth The Ph can run out of control: too acidic
Love an additive to sweeten any soil Brings balance and soothes the soul Strengthening the defense’s crenulations A cleanse to any taint’s warp and stain Can yet offer a thorny embrace
We each tend our garden’s many rows Choosing the plant and its location Learning as seasons come and go The soul’s continuous edification We become what we nurture
I’ve seen gardens rife with thorny weeds The gardeners lost in life’s many woes Addiction a test of lines one will cross To attain that which hidden kills The daily sacrifice on one’s soul
I’ve seen gardens of splendorous beauty Yet found to be hiding a poisonous taint Hidden among the green vegetation Suffering those who visit leave infected To carry their welts and wounds away
There are gardens too without any flowers A green expanse of the herb and leaf The season coming for blossoms and buds Fruit for the birds, nectar for the bees Built upon these sun catching leaves
No matter the gardening theory you follow No matter the time spent on your knees Pleading for rain, to then fear the torrent Howling to fall upon this creation of love Dancing to the wind’s whining measure
Pages, windows open to the world I send them out to tease and tickle A message or an observation Casting them into the winds to distant eyes
they dance on the tongues and spill into minds, nudging, provoking inspiring an internal response annoying, persisting, affecting.
“you’ve made me cry” they write their tears my happy reward let them cry great rivers for compassion
Rhymes – sometimes I can’t find them so I walk on the other side of the street a different rhythm becomes my strut a feeling of freedom freedom from form and confinement stanzas become strophes meter becomes flow as the garments of creation are changed to the colorful aspects of language painted in poetic prose.
It feels like magic to wield the pen to cast the lines in black and white knowing readers will chant them aloud to find, their, deeper meaning in the words cast upon the page.
Muddy watered river flows,
gently drifting its winding path.
Farms and orchards dip in their toes,
bounded by a margin of grass.
To cast my line into its depths,
watch the ripples grow in size.
Water bugs racing to and fro,
speckled sun - a water color sky.
No need for fish to break the spell
just draw it in and cast again.
Breathe in deep that fresh green smell,
a quiver, a strike; the long pole bends
The battle is on - though fierce it's brief,
a run a pull and reel it on in.
Released back into the river - set free;
prepare the hook, cast it again.
Corn fields shimmer with a gentle breeze
birds sing songs as old as the wind,
the lane nearby long and straight.
Just draw it in and cast again.
When waking from this long suffered dream.
being the old man that I never foresaw,
I am grateful for those days in the sun
where as a child I grew both strong and tall.
By brian francis