This week let’s write a garden poem. This subject is ripe with metaphor. Let this prompt be the seed in the fertile soil of your mind then post the harvest in the comments below.
About Bartholomew Barker
Bartholomew Barker is an organizer of Living Poetry, a collection of poets in the Triangle region of North Carolina where he has hosted a monthly feedback workshop for more than decade. His first poetry collection, Wednesday Night Regular, written in and about strip clubs, was published in 2013. His second, Milkshakes and Chilidogs, a chapbook of food inspired poetry was served in 2017. He was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2021. Born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, he worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough where he lives and writes poetry.
Living Poetry 
Love this prompt!
http://gypsieswritingmusingsquotesgripes.com/2022/05/23/hibiscus-delight/
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Posted by Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris | May 23, 2022, 3:22 PMGlad this one blossomed for you.
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | May 23, 2022, 7:00 PMThank you Bartholomew! 🌺
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Posted by Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris | May 23, 2022, 8:29 PMFlowers beaten by rain
Veggies eaten by rabbits
Sell the land
Move to the city
Make friends with florist and green grocer
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Posted by JeanMarie | May 23, 2022, 4:17 PMAgreed! The first line reminds me of one of Frost’s. Check out his short poem “Lodged”.
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | May 23, 2022, 7:06 PMI read his poem “Lodged” – wonderful.
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Posted by JeanMarie | May 24, 2022, 3:48 AMThat’s why he’s the master. It is wonderful
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Posted by Second Act Blogger | May 27, 2022, 11:55 PMLikeLiked by 1 person
Posted by Bartholomew Barker | May 23, 2022, 8:24 PMGarden and I
I have not been well
there have been cracks and swells
the fire ants walk their path
across and under my skin
It is a decade past the four
that I was meant to have fun
Flowers are not my thing now
I contemplate upon the stems,
the roots that hold my garden
as the fleeting florals die
Spring is well-past
hot flashes of summer rejoice
and yet there is a resilience
that the garden wields
I am happy in all of this
as content as my garden feels
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Posted by utopicdystopian | May 23, 2022, 11:04 PMIt gets pretty dark in the middle and your fire ants under my skin line provoke a visceral reaction. Very well done!
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | May 23, 2022, 11:17 PMThank you!
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Posted by utopicdystopian | May 23, 2022, 11:25 PMQuestion to the group…
In music there is the concept of a triplet: Three notes with the value of one beat. What is the analogous version in poetry? When I try to write an ordered, rhyming poem, I always find it breaks down in to more lyric free verse… where the exact syllables do not count properly, but when spoken aloud flow neatly…
I’m thinking I’m employing some form of “triplets” in them.
Just curious to hear other thoughts…
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Posted by Chris Clarke | June 3, 2022, 2:45 PMThis link (for children, helpful to me) explains three syllabic poetry, but it implies that not all three syllables are stressed equally, dactyl and anapest. With music, though I don’t claim to know much about this, aren’t the three notes expressed equally?
https://poetry4kids.com/lessons/rhythm-in-poetry-more-than-two-feet
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Posted by ts19page | June 3, 2022, 3:33 PMUm… did my poem make it? It saying “duplicate” but I’m not seeing it
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Posted by Chris Clarke | June 3, 2022, 2:49 PMI don’t see a poem from you for this “Garden” prompt. You posted a lovely poem to this month’s musical prompt, if that’s the one you’re referring to.
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | June 3, 2022, 5:38 PMGuerdon
I found a guerdon for my garden,
that I worked on all spring,
Through drought I brought
silver water to soak the curling roots,
One hour everyday I stomped
and danced for rain.
Then anyone could see
how it bloomed for me.
As the season turned to Autumn
sneezing through pollen,
I felt the fall from Eden
when gardens were not enough,
Twirling swords, red hot,
pointed to lessons learned on leaving,
The fluid truth of blooming,
fading, and re-seeding;
The Fall, gift disguised,
earth-bound sleep before re-birth.
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Posted by ts19page | June 3, 2022, 6:22 PMLovely. I’d never seen the word “Guerdon” before so thanks for sharing that. I especially liked the second stanza for the “silver water” and the “drought” / “brought” fun. English is such a crazy language.
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | June 3, 2022, 7:07 PMWell, it still not taking it… hopefully this written addition with let it through…
—————————————————————————————————–
My true love is a garden
My passion for which is clear
For this I’ll seek no pardon
For her favors I hold dear
I till her with my labor
Into warm humus I sow
Her sweetness which I savor
Comes so very soon I know
I lay upon her bosom
On dark nights we watch the sky
Together gather wisdom
Answers to the question, why
And when it turns October
Her young beauty brown and old
Her life to me, surrenders
Frost and the harvest so cold
All winter I’ll dream of her body
Her fragrance still fresh in my mind
On a path to the ultimate samadhi
To summer, to life and the sublime
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Posted by Chris Clarke | June 3, 2022, 7:59 PMAnother lovely one! I like the night sky stanza but I’m always a sucker for astronomical images. Well done!
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | June 3, 2022, 8:20 PM