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Poem for the green fingered

ProfilePosted byOptionsPost Date

Harry

Harry Report 16 Apr 2011 19:20

Thank you. Will make an appearance in a day or so.

Happy days

SpanishEyes

SpanishEyes Report 16 Apr 2011 09:51

Oh Harry I am so sorry that this is what you thought. Whilst it mayhave started that way it certainly isn't a given and really what is nicer a wonderful poem sured with others or leaving us unaware of how some people are able to express feelings esetra so beautifully. So please post any poems you wish to.
Many thanks from
Bridget

10.55hrs Spain

Harry

Harry Report 15 Apr 2011 20:59

Thank you for the replies. My impression was that the 'favourite poems' was for those written by 'proper' poets.

Happy days

SpanishEyes

SpanishEyes Report 15 Apr 2011 20:51

Harry, This is a beautiful poem, I wonder if you would be kind enough to add it to the thread I started called Favourite Sayings and Poems. we do have a couple of gents who post on there and I would dearly like to welcome some others.
Perhaps you could take a peek and see for yourself what we have been submitting.
I will be watching out for you,

Bridget

21.50 hrs Spain

Slug & Lettuce

Slug & Lettuce Report 15 Apr 2011 18:58

I really like the poem Harry.

Not quite older generation just yet but know exactly what you mean.

Thank you.

Ria x

Harry

Harry Report 15 Apr 2011 15:03

Perhaps for the older genre.

GOD'S ART IN A GARDEN

Fifty years I've had my garden,
God had left it in a mess!
So I took him as a partner'
To reclaim our wilderness.

With three small trees I laboured,
As the Lord doesn't own a spade;
His ways are more mysterious,
Yet openly displayed.

Four decades on - fully grown,
Likewise as with men;
Now planning for the shorter term,
Was I so different then?

Line the path with scented shrubs,
The garden your delight;
'Pottering' - a daily medicine,
Tranquiliser for the night.

Fragrance; a tree; comfy seat,,
Birds twitter in my ear;
That which was once mysterious,
Is suddenly crystal clear.

Too soon it became perennials,
But to divide them is a pain;
It's not so much 'down to earth',
More the getting up again.

Ashes to ashes; dust to dust,
Annuals it has to be;
A joy to see them flowering,
Ere plants look down on me.

As I'm fond of happy endings,
Perhaps I'd best explain;
This poem was written five years ago -
We're planting shrubs again!

--------------------------------------

Harry Hayes 3/11 ----- Happy days