garden

My Five Day Hallucination

It was Day 1 when it was scorching hot and we crossed paths.

I was looking for an oasis to drink from,

Though a hug from you was a thousand times better

Because afterwards, we went swimming in the lake and laughed at the gold diggers passing by.

Poor men were oblivious that they mined their last nugget in this desert.

 

It was Day 2 when we continued our journey.

You introduced me to your bitches when you brought me home.

One licked me silly while the second took a while to come around.

It was only trying to judge me to see if I would be a menace to your family.

I’ve always liked the playful, funny, and carefree breeds.

 

It was Day 3 when you showed me your larger-than-life garden.

You spoke of how your brother and mother had toiled day and night tending to it.

The garden was shaped like the number 5 and I couldn’t be happier.

You regaled me with stories of an ancient civilization that once existed in this land of the dead.

Every word from your tongue between breaths was like a missing page in a book lost in time.

 

It was Day 4 when I crawled on my knees after a beating from a two-faced sergeant

Looking for you so you could lift me back on my two feet and hold me close

But to add insult to injury, you held your scorn like you should’ve held my hands.

So I passed out on the floor and was left for dead out in the open.

How do indecisive weeds like you sleep at night?

 

It was Day 5 when I woke up expecting you’d be there, but your home was empty.

Your garden was withered and the magic was gone so it turns out that it was all a mirage.

You can rationalize your actions and demonize me any way you like,

But when you save your second thoughts for one minute before midnight,

It’s goodbye and good riddance to you weeds.

 

So I left. It was better for me to abandon you before you inevitably did the same.

The world is full of snakes and trojans as it is.

It’s best for me to give them a dose of their own venom as soon as I see right through them.

 

You should’ve told me earlier rather than at the last minute.

Or when I have fallen and can’t get up.

Then maybe we could’ve still been friends.

But now you’re just another silhouette that shears hearts like hedges.

 

If you’re looking to post an ad requesting company in a moment of loneliness,

Think again before you shatter another heart or wager your sanity.

A weed ain’t cut out for love, let alone a friendship

If it can’t make up its mind and let its loneliness fog its judgment.

Poor guy should’ve inspected the thorns before he picked the rose.

 

Now it’s my turn to wager a few things,

I bet you don’t even miss me.

I bet you feigned regret that you added salt in the wound.

I bet that you’ll forget all about me after the weekend I disappeared.

I bet you’ll cower in the arms of the two bitches you value most in life.

I bet you’ll start looking for another soul that you’ll pray to Aphrodite you won’t screw over.

Whatever happens to you, I am grateful that I have kin to keep tight

And an adventure I continue to embark on in the desert with or without you there for me.

You’re just another silhouette that shears hearts like hedges.

The Off Grid Life

the off-grid life.

untied from the shackles of strife,

2017, the modern existence,

getting on the property ladder, how does anyone have a chance?
20, 25 or 30, forced to work to pay every bill,

going to work all hours, struggling to find a way, a life against our will,

needing the money from any form of work, mostly unprogressive, unhappy 
life passing by, frustrating, anger, decreasing self-worth, causing individuals to be snappy

unfulfilled, potentials are not met, working a job all day, unable to progress,

money is the key factor, for bills to be met, let me digress.

often they still aren't causing pain and suffering, stress and depression,

homelessness is rife through the country, a feeling of regression,

a feeling of being stuck, how to retrain and improve your careers?
speak to friends or family and the same conversation, doubts, and fears
if only another option was available,

one that was accepted and not just for the vulnerable,

the homeless, the people with nothing,

but how is this existence different? it is truly crushing,

once you can see that your life is consumed with working for money,

the soul has passed, your energy too, it can get so hard it's not even funny,

but who understands? in the face of consumerism, higher purchase, loans, and debt,

who is living a life, truly satisfied, and their dreams are met?

Not all people living off-grid are rich in cash!
but they aim for other needs; security in food & energy, it's worth a bash,


 

a growing transition for many people too,

it's not just for the hippies, the spiritual, it's for people like me and you,

think about it for a moment or two...

who would you be without your car, house and your possessions?
is that person you portray the real you? or do you blend in so people don't ask questions?
are you honest with your family and friends?

or do you sit behind a desk wishing it would end?
there is a wealth of knowledge of old traditions,

from a time when they lived without these conditions,

the conditions of social media, advertising, marketing ads or vlogs

when screen time didn't consume every waking hour, and children were fascinated with tadpoles transforming into frogs.

hours spent outside, climbing trees, playing at the park,

not allowed home unless it was tea time or had gotten dark.

 

a shift is happening, ecotherapy, wild schooling, bushcraft, and hikes,

forest schooling, homeschooling, people walking and out on their bikes,

scientists are noticing the effects on children's behaviors, reduced health issues,

ADHD,  also a boost in self-awareness, positivity, confidence and mental health issues

is it easier to sit a child down to hours in front of the tv, or ipad?

than it is to spend a few hours playing down the park with dad?

or baking a cake with mum, the importance of these skills are being misplaced,

in this consumerism world, with employees a number, in a life so fast-paced.

 

Off-grid living, the communities hidden away,

all they want is a parcel of land to look after their needs, but hey,

that's not possible, 'cause where will the local council get their tax,

with the community, living off the land, growing food and chopping wood with an axe,

the need and usage of government-owned services would become minute,

living simply and within your skills of the land, renewables used, an abundance of fruit,

food preserved in many forms, jams and chutneys, frozen meat,

enough food to last year-round to survive through winter, or in the heat,

the food produced off the land, tending the garden, and grown for nutrition,

the most important for life and health also said to aid in remission.

off grid homesteaders, don't need to take the flack,

with health as the focus, working outdoors to provide, lowering the need for prozac,
comments from shallow minded people need not be said,

the power of community, working together, I want to spread,

to include children in the transition, of conserving nature and our wildlife,

 

the tranquil setting amongst the seasons, watching the stars, that's my type of nightlife.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is my first time sharing my poetry, (after a few friends encouraged me that I should) please be kind and send your thoughts.

Also all words are opinions of myself in the modern world that we live in. 

This is not meant to cause offense, harm, upset to anyone, and if it does please understand that is not my intention.

 

Many thanks,

My grandma's garden.



I have visited my grandma’s garden ever since I can remember. She has always loved and cared for her plants as if they were an extension of her flesh and bones. Her garden wasn’t aesthetic. It wasn’t big, either, nor would it be considered astonishing in the eyes of the average beholder... yet it had something that, to me, made it seem as a real life Wonderland: somewhere where you could hide between the green of the leaves and get drunk on the flowers perfume. Some place where your wildest thoughts could come to life. She grew flowers and succulents long before they were popular in the hipster community. She harvested tomatoes once, but other than that, no edible grew there. Butterflies and hummingbirds were common visitors. They would wander around this tiny jungle and sometimes, “play” with us, the grandchildren. Looking back on it, it was more of a hunting game where tiny humans got a hold of the poor butterflies’ wings and tossed them around until they could no longer fly. I wish I had known I was hurting them. I didn’t see the harm back then. I was naive enough to think I was just “appreciating their beauty.”

This caused our flying guests to stop coming. The garden was just as fun as ever, yet it felt some kind of lonely. One particular winter, the cold killed most of my granny’s plants. The grandchildren didn’t want to play there anymore. Outside, the garden’s corpses laid on pots, fragile on the dirt. Everyone gave up on them, everyone but my grandmother. She sang and spoke to them as if she were to get a reply. She watered them religiously until she brought the magic back from the dead. Eventually, her plants grew vigorously again. It recovered its old charm, and, as of right now, it remains. Not too long ago my grandmother adopted two little yellow birds because she loved their melodies. Everybody was very glad for her because, as time went on, it became harder for her siblings to visit her as often. The birds keep her company and, in return, she gives them all her love. Her garden is their home, and now, it is the most beautiful it has been in a long time. You literally can not stand straight without hitting your head with a pot. It’s amazing.It blows my mind to realize that her garden has aged with us. It has been a key witness to our family development: it was there during my mom’s childhood, my aunt’s pregnancy, my cousin's departure and my first date. It has been our quiet companion and confidant through all these years. If it could speak, I wonder what it would say.


Garden

Do you see the flowers out there,


In the garden spraying the fragrance?


For you they bloom,


In utter patience!


 

As the rainbow the flowers get brighter,


And smile more,


For you idyllic they feel,


Since it is you they bloom for!


 

Even the trees dance as Menka in joy,

 

As soon as you smile being coy!

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My grandmother’s garden”

Every year when spring arrives, it reminds me of my grandmother, I can swear that I smell her garden, full of flowers, full of life, full of daisies and tulips that filled the atmosphere with color, joy and happiness. I had the best moments of my life there, lying down in the grass, as time didn’t pass, as anything else in the world didn’t matter as if it was only the two of us in that magnificent kingdom. I don’t usually believe in magic, but there was something magical in that place, it was the cure for every problem you had, all you needed was to spend a few minutes there, breath deeply and after a few seconds you will feel happy again. Spring and summer were the best seasons of the year, you could spend the whole day sitting in the wood bench and never feel bored as every hour you had a different view, a different feeling, in the morning the breeze falling into your skin, in the noon all the hummingbirds and butterflies flying around the flowers, in the night you had the perfect view of the stars shining in the sky and if you were lucky you could also watch the moon. It was really impressive to watch my grandma take care of her flowers, she always played music in her garden as she believed that music improved their growing process, she treated every petal as an individual rather than as a flower and threated every flower differently as every one had its own care instructions. She liked flowers so much that one day she decided to cut a small flower from her garden to put it in a necklace, at first I thought she was mad, but after watching the result I learned that she always knew what she is doing. She took the flower to a store in which they put it inside some liquid plastic and after that into a golden medal, it was beautiful. I thought that she was going to wear it, but instead to my surprise she gave it to me on my 16th birthday. Now every time I wear that necklace I can still feel that magical vibe that her garden had, I can still smell every single flower, I can feel the breeze falling into my skin and remember every single day we spent in that garden.

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Green Finger

The year my grandpa gave up gardening with tired hands and a heavy heart

I found my green finger

It started small

Just a hint of colouring on the last finger of my left hand.

 

But it grew,

Flourished.

As those flowers thrived

My love for gardening blossomed

And I learned the art of caring for something

Other than myself.

 

It took time, effort.

But to watch those flowers grow and then,

Yield to the bitterness of winter,

To sprout the following spring

Was a gift.

 

What I was gifted, by my grandpas blood,

Was learning to create, to mend, to discover and to care.

Gardening isn’t about growing the biggest and best.

It has always been more.

It has been about each individual flower blooming,

Bright and beautiful

It has been about the fight you undergo to keep each tiny seed alive.

It has been about knowledge and discovery.

 

There are adventures to be found in gardening.

My grandpa knew this.

The year he gave up gardening and yielded to old age

And a lack of space

I found he had taught me the most important of lessons

Given me the most wonderful of gifts.

The gift of the green finger,

Of caring,

Of giving Life.

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This ones for my Grandpa Hugh, who taught me how to love something other than myself, and to love nature, always nature. 

A Garden by the Sea

I will make a garden by the sea,

For you and me,

With plenty of flower plants,

Having a lone task - producing Arabian scents.

 

The sunflowers will bloom in ecstasy,

Welcoming you in the morn daily,

The roses shall not fail to remember,

Scattering for you the natural bouquet ever.

 

Life mingled with joy,

Will surround your personality, coy,

The impatient air must dance,

With the flowers utilising every chance.

 

Poseidon might go green at each serene noon,

Since I will be holding you soon,

With the left hand of mine,

Enjoying the painting divine.

 

The flowers might go crazy,

Having you amid them, the emblem of beauty,

Since your aroma shall surpass,

The fragrance that all the flowers amass.

 

ragrance that all the flowers amass.

 

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Fancy verdant garden under a starlit sky

 
 
With you I find heartfelt joy 
Walking through a vibrant, lively garden,
Feeling the brush of the soft, green grass.
In the glow of the twilight, your eyes hazy, and sparkling.
The air of affection, and summer's freshness.
Two figures in nature's beautiful canvas.
 
Across the garden a painter uses careful strokes on a plain canvas.
Her countenance, and satisfied smile hint hidden joy.
An artist searching for a muse of freshness.
The setting is this bright, exciting garden,
That has made the young artist's aura sparkling.
Her stage the dark, emerald grass.
 
You, and I continue waking through the grass.
Taking in the earth's wondrous canvas.
A small gem of Mother Nature sparkling.
Your smile radiates with joy.
Hand in hand through the garden.
You bring life such a new freshness.
 
The garden's flowers leave a scent of sweet freshness.
Along with the aroma of fresh cut grass.
Good thing I took allergy meds before coming to the garden.
Such a treat for the eyes, this garden's canvas.
Life is filled with carefree joy.
Sweet as grape juice that is sparkling.
 
The sun sets, and reveals the majestic stars, sparkling.
The night air brings renewed freshness.
Lovers retreat to find their joy.
We stand face to face in the middle of the garden's grass.
The painter has left, and took her canvas.
We are left alone in the now quiet garden.
 
A final kiss we share in the garden.
You smile, beaming teeth sparkling.
A single story with adoration the canvas.
Left with the taste of your breath's minty freshness.
We leave through the grass.
Farewell to the garden of joy,
 
We found joy in the garden.
Betwixt the green grass, and stars sparkling.
Romance's freshness, painted on the world's canvas.
 
Author's Notes/Comments: 

Wrote this at work. based off of the events I had last night.

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He teased me with purple

As I was walking through the garden 

looking for flowers, I saw him.

He was crouched down in front of plant.

 

I said, excuse me, Sir,

Do you have any poppy flowers?

As he stood up to greet me and turned around, 

he was holding a giant turnip.

 

He teased me with it,

hiding his face behind

as he answered my question.

 

Apparently, he used to have a poppy plant.

 

But there was rumor,

the authorities had gotten word of it,

and he had to destroy it.

 

He just couldn't have

that kind of trouble

around his garden,

disturbing his peace.

 

I laughed and listened as he told me detailed stories about the plant.

How he extracted opium from it once in a while and used it for medicine.

And about the fights he would get into with a neighbor

who would sometimes sneak over the fence

slice into the pod and steal the resin.

 

I told him the reason I was looking for one,

was that I wanted to paint its beautiful form

and I needed a model.

 

He then proceeded to tell me

about other flowers he was growing in his garden.

Perhaps you could paint one of them instead, he said.

 

As he guided me toward the blooming beds,

he told me about his scientific methods of farming.

Seems, he was a Biodynamic farmer.

 

Positioning's of the stars, moon and sun, guided him in the tending of his garden.

He told me about the seasons, and the daylight and night light.

And of how each aspect affected the plants.

 

I learned about the decay after harvest season,

about the death of winter,

and about the best time to plant seeds.

 

He talked about the heavy rains of spring,

and the flowers blooming

and the bees pollenating

and about the mating season.

 

It was getting late, and I had to get back home.

He invited me to come to his garden anytime to paint.

And then I proceeded to go on my way,

fully intending to come back one day.

 

 

 

 

 

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