I see that Parkinson's UK are starting a fund-raising scheme with National Garden Centres.
OOOOOOh, I thought, I'll do a re-run of some of my garden poems. Hope you don't mind.
In My Summer Garden
Vibrant colours through verdant borders peep,
Haphazard rose will weave along the wall.
As shades of green in summer vestments creep,
A blackbird sings and dew-damp petals fall.
Where silv'ry webs drape threads of thistledown,
Drops of water splash over polished stone.
Precious seeds burst through soil of deepest brown,
In such splendour, He often walks alone.
Leaves bob and dance in gentle rhythm sway,
In my garden the master calls the tune,
Sweet melodies or soaring symphonies play,
This perfection will disappear too soon.
As footprints fade,it is quite clear to see,
My garden seems like paradise to me!
Back to my garden!!
Colours in my garden before a leadened sky,
Look vibrant, strong and stunning, sure to catch the eye.
Chrysanthemums of copper, others more like peach,
Hydrangea mop-heads fading, ripe apples out of reach!
Leaves of darkest ruby from the acer torn,
Lie still in crinkly mountains or dance across the lawn.
Green ivy drapes the fencing, the lilac is quite bare,
Stark brown waving branches, cobwebs sparkle there.
Pink fuschia hangs her pretty head as white geranium pot
Catches silver raindrops, bring inside or not?
Ballerina roses still bloom upon the wall,
Winter pansies in their baskets prepare for first snow fall.
Colours in my garden before a leadened sky,
From my place here at the window are sure to catch the eye.
Perhaps I should explain that the moderators suggested another thread for garden poems so mine were moved across here.
Help to support partnership between Parkinson's and National Gardens.
From blackened skies the sun still tries to shine.
But raindrops fall, in never-ending stream,
Left cold and wet, limp laundry hugs the line,
A lightning bolt and thunder split the scene,
Will summer come to bring a welcome change?
Will deck chairs stand in warm and golden sand?
From break of day, the weather, very strange,
Along the coast and right across the land.
Who calls the tune? Who makes the garden green?
Gives us sun-light and warmth to make plants grow?
Now pours the rain upon the muddy scene,
As if to mock, to kill the seeds we sow.
Across the sky, an answer to remind
A rainbow arch with gold for us to find!
Peonies bloom and roses grow,
In my garden, what a show!
Lilies white and tulips black,
Bluebells shaded at the back.
Daffodil tubs and geranium pots,
Pansies pink, wallflowers gold,
Grass now flat where dog has rolled!
Dancing feet and swaying heads,
In my weed-ful flower beds.
Leaves entwine to swing as one,
Still waltzing when the sun has gone.
Synchronised my perfumed plants
Cue garden song and beg to dance.
Gardening is not my forte,
This I tell you in my poetry.
Both are of a similar grade,
Of that quite enough is said.
The little patch before our house
Would no admiration rouse.
A wild sanctuary it is at best,
A haven for insects and the rest.
It appears as if a sign is there
Saying, only disturb if you dare.
Not one fork has tilled the ground,
No sign of tender care is found.
Despite all that, signs of life,
Amid the untamed land, are rife.
Year after year flowers bloom,
With renewed joy after winter's gloom.
Even now, as I write this down,
Spring is showing in the crown
Of a pretty flower whte on top,
The giver of hope, the little snowdrop.
I agree with you. Snowdrops - I love them. And daffodils and tulips.
Apparently, there are thousands of different types of snowdrop. I don't think
'type of' is a gardening term - do I mean 'species'? Brain not working yet, this morning!
I live near a place where there is a wonderful 'snowdrop walk'.
Isn't nature horrible,
It bites, it stings it cuts,
This isn't a very good peom,
It's like my garden, it sucks.
Now thats not very long,
I knows how to expand it,
I'll throw in more fertilizer,
Oh no! There's cow in my horses sh!
I just seen a flutterby,
Everyone quiet as a mouse,
Quickly get the insecticide,
It's just gone in my house.
Freaking little flutterbies,
They leaves larvae in your clothes,
And when you go to wear them,
There's great big ruddy holes.
Now I'm not saying it is all bad,
It's Nature what makes hops,
So that we good kindly gentle folk,
Get bladdered and go to war with wasps.
Now thats Tea towel material if ever i saw it, maybees andrex. When I go to collect my Mervyn Hayes award do I need to write a speech?
My deity. These Hank Marvyn awards make poetry really competitive and exciting. As well as improving my grammar and creative writing isn't it.
Although if I don't win, I've learned it's all subjective and that the winner will in all probability be related or given the judges a bung/sti. I might not win but at least I'll maintain my dignity!
Daffodils dancing in the breeze
Snowdrops hide beneath the trees
Spring starts to lift its head
Soon time to sow those seeds
To make my garden alive
I put in my heart and soul
Every year I'm repaid
With every colour and flower
With a little help from nature
GOOD ONE ECK! EXTREMELY HILARIOUS...If it were down to me, which unfortunately it isn't! Then you would win A prize for your wonderful brand of poetry!. love BA x
Beyond the glass the garden looks so cold,
Snow drapes the fence in neatly pleated swags.
So beautiful the contours of each fold,
But danger lurks where heavy draping sags.
Beneath the snow, the spikes of green now hide,
No thoughts of spring are skipping through the mind.
Survey the scene, from vantage point inside
As hungry birds swoop low to search and find.
From spiky bush, red berries blackbirds strip,
Clouds full of snow drift slowly overhead,
And flakes begin to tumble, dance and skip
A world in white with silver lacing thread.
In my garden, a slippery world awaits,
For those who wish to pass the garden gates.
The magic of that dull, brown earth is very clear.
Spring will work it's yearly miracle, never fear.
Fresh green shoots give way to summer blooms.
Gather your rosebuds, brighten up your rooms!
As one with the earth, I think that's what they say.
My favourite month? I suppose that must be May.
Apple blossom, pink confetti decks the trees.
Swirling through the air on every gentle breeze.
Fuchsia's ruby droplets fill our hearts with gladness.
Pinks with their gentle fragrance will dispel all sadness.
Delphiniums, tall and stately, every shade of blue.
Queen of the herbaceous border, yes that very true.
Bumble bees, all pollen dusted, droning past.
They tell us that high summer must be here at last.
Butterflies like flying jewels they set the scene.
Sweet pea, clematis yes and even runner bean.
The garden, like an orchestra that's well in harmony.
So gardener, take your baton maestro, let there beauty be.
This is the closest I got to writing about something close to God's garden.
A boy’s summer.
Cool breeze, wispy green grass waltzes,
to bird song,
Sun streams across dry water beds, parched
for want of rain,
Fissures filled with jaundiced sulphur weeds,
Pop and scatter,
Lord Sligo’s garden, filled with sound, a
symphony of colour,
Alabaster statues stand amidst foreign trees
far from home.
Corduroy short britches, hob nailed boots with
Tramp the rivers and the hills and ponder at the
A small lizard rises up on all fours then turns to
home once more,
As must I before the clock rings six and I am late
Something to cheer us up in this cold wintry weather:
Masses of parti-coloured pansies,
Masquerading as painted clown faces,
Making us laugh.
Masses of multi-coloured pansies,
Mimicking puppy dog faces,
Making us smile.
My garden of people
Lin I see you like a daisy
So pure and a heart of gold
So small and dainty
With roots that are so strong
Ellemac I see you like a climber
Honeysuckle comes to mind
You are so sweet and twine around
Maybe feeling a little lost sometime
Blue Angel I see you like a rose
The one s with out the thorns
For if to you are given a lot of care
You flower right through the storms
Eck I see the daffodils,
Their heads so strong
Standing like an army
Protecting those that stand near
Christo I send you all the bells t
For your orchestras complete
Boyo I now will look at pansies
When a laugh is what I need
I hope you like my garden
No fences do I have
Come and join me in my garden
Soak up all the love,life is nt all bad
Thanks for the honourable mention in your lovely poem.
I love your garden, angel4u
And the "flowers" you describe growing there.
I hope to see some weeds there too,
As these do not need the same care.
Maybe one day a visit I'll make
To this wonderfully inclusive place
And see the fruits of the trouble you take
Bring a smile to everyone's face.
Thank you,I'm pleased you like my garden
I aim to plant some more
When Bogman Returns from Oz
I have a sun flower in store
There is so much beauty in my garden
Weeds just would not want to grow
So I hope it makes you happy
And tears I'll let you sow
Flowers they need water
As much as they need sun
Even if you shed a tear
It will make your flower strong
Thank you angel4u. What a great poem and a lovely description of me as a daisy. Did you say small and dainty? Love it!