Poetry Garden

 

I made a poetry garden

To plan for poems to say

For there is so much to give

And calling old friends to play

Went hard cultivating poets

From back in the old days

When five flowers was all we had

But it didn’t matter much – it’s okay

There was an old paladin poet

Sitting at the gate in full cogitate

The mood was easy - no need for strain

If it’s open to just ruminate

I saw a rose by any other name

Sitting by herself showing stems with thorns

For beauty is only to see; it’s all just the same

Yellow, pink or red dress she adorns

Then came the old dog slammer

Friend of the old woods 

No one knew their hammer

Nor could we see they were user dudes

Their songs went fast and rhythmic

As the poetry party rose to a wayward lee

And love poems flowed into the garden

When the yellow tulips all stood to see

There was trouble in the garden party

For there came dandelions no one knew

They soon elaborated beyond meaning

And caused the place much ado

Oh me, oh my! – it’s just a poetry garden

It don’t matter much who is Queen

And there is no king flower

Bees and butterflies is the scene

Went to a garden party

Seeing who was there

And found only winter’s hand

Had taken its cold stare

And so, we play in the garden

Once again - once more

Poets come and lovers go

And the old poet is still lore.

(tribute to Ricky Nelson/Garden Party)