We who with songs beguile your pilgrimage / And swear that Beauty lives though lilies die, / We Poets of the proud old lineage / Who sing to find your hearts, we know not why ... (James Elroy Flecker)

26.4.24

The Garden Fairies Protest


This woman – I don’t know! –

at present she’s left us a jungle

within her small back yard. Well, 

we do like to be left some suitably

wild spaces, especially now

when, all around us, foolish folk

allow the wilderness to diminish.

We fear it will all disappear too soon.


But then, we know of old, she’ll get

that kid from over the road to come again,

to prune and pare, to weed widely,

crash through and slash 

all the tall stems and grasses, 

until at last – wanna bet? –

there’ll be nothing much left,

and some of us will be out on our arses.


We’ll be looking for good weedy plots,

with lots of room, lots of thick growth.

Too much neatness makes us needy!

Yes I know, she rents. Has to appease

landlord’s conventional silliness. But still,

must she till every small corner, 

must she cut and cultivate it so fully, so tidily, 

so prettily and politely? Why, why, why, why?



Today NaPoWriMo asks us to use alliteraton, assonance and consonance; while at Poem A Day we are invited to write in the persona of someone or something not oneself.



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