Category Archives: Poetry

Bless the blackbird. All is held in stasis When she sings. Her song clears out The splintered thoughts. She does not rest Where the gardeners Have humanized their hedges; No straight lines in her voice, Geometry is not in her … Continue reading →

The melancholy garden drips spent rain from brittle seed heads clustered on bent stalks. Ripe rose hips and unseasonal blooms enliven damp stone walls. We walk on Persian rugs of gold, red, umber, while gaunt trees stretch knotted fingers skyward … Continue reading →

Garden, you are always there. No day No month No year is like any other. Between the sky and the earth You watch and wait But under that seemingly – calm exterior you keep stock You count the days Weeks … Continue reading →

Among the pea sticks and neat rows of veg A nun stoops low to tend the shooting plants. A girl looks on, unseen beyond the edge Of this bucolic scene, caught in the slant Of late spring sunlight glancing through … Continue reading →

The clematis and roses, still in bud, almost fill the arches now. Beds edged with nasturtium, yet to break from their neat rows, to blur the wide path’s tidy margins. Not in that explosive, jewelled way of the original, but … Continue reading →

Pinks and blue-greys of the patio slabs Brought in containers from an Indian shore To lie in Bradford, so far from home, Where I sit book in hand, and meditate. Lavender, marigold and sun flowers Fill the margins of my … Continue reading →

Nasturtiums grow below the hedge And bloom in June, orange and red Then by July, beneath the leaf Are eggs – bursting and hatching Caterpillars, flower killers, keen to tuck in Wreaking disorder all over the border Nasturtiums wilt, the … Continue reading →

The long hot days lead me to go and view the garden long unkept, the uncut grass, the bushes grow unpruned, unshaped, where weeds have crept. I sit beside the shimmering pond beneath the shading cherry tree, recalling memories so … Continue reading →

Strolling in the garden at midnight under the pale ghost light of the moon, a light breeze fanning me, I feel a connection with the sheer abundance of flowers and shrubbery, the smell of growth around me. Although I cannot … Continue reading →