I turn into the garden freshened by morning rain
Inhale a damp, earthy smell.
Photographer with tripod blocks the path to the right.
I go left
Discover old chap rooting out last year’s rot and freshly sprouted weeds.
Dandelions. Burdock. Stink grass.
His brow beads heavily with sweat.
He grunts as he flicks a dog turd at an unsuspecting pooch.
Casts an admonishing glance at the owner. I move on.
Bees are buzzing
Hovering over intoxicating purple spring wonders
Crocuses, flowering plants of the iris family
I take the mandatory picture
Of all things purple.
For a friend, Mary(notcontrary)
Noting to send later.
I shuffle to where a crowd has gathered
Watching a painter
Capture with deft brush strokes
What they too will grab with the swift
Push of a cell phone button.
Tai Chi is in full swing too.
Quiet movements of fluidity…
A child points in the direction of the garden cafe
Screams bloody blue murder
I want ice cream. Chocolate.
Not Neopolitan! Puts his foot down hard, grinding it in the gravel.
Kicks a stone into touch but is
Ignored by his parents who
Search for a particular shade of red rose not yet bloomed.
Or perhaps a way out?
I find a quiet place to meditate
Let the next lot of garden lovers
Have the path to themselves.
Free to observe
What I may have missed.
Congratulations on the poem. Words as painting. A lovely evocation of pictures in a garden.
Julian Mulock, artist and illustrator, reacts to the poem.
The Naked Ladies are located in the gardens of York House, Twickenham, London, England, the history of which is detailed further down the page.
Please join us on Saturday, April 22, 2017 at 6:30 PM for St. George’s Day festivities at the Granite Brewery Restaurant!
Join us for St. George’s Day festivities in support of charity on Saturday, April 22rd at 6:30 PM at the Granite Brewery and Restaurant, 245 Eglinton Avenue East, Toronto. Celebrate all things English with co-hosts Maz Brereton and Robert Hughey and guest speaker Nick Pashley. Door prizes, silent auction, plus a live auction with auctioneer Julian Mulock.
In honour of the 150th Birthday of Canada join Nick at the podium and bring your ‘England to Canada’ story, in words, song, pictures or mementos. The event features a delicious four course gourmet dinner with four matching fresh Ontario cask ales.
Please show your support for England and Canada and raise funds for Prostate Cancer Canada and the Heart and Stroke Foundation. Tickets are now on sale and you can buy them by calling 416 462 3788 or emailing firstname.lastname@example.org
$70 per person (taxes and with partial tax receipt included)
This event organized by CASK! Toronto, which has helped raise over $20,000 for charity over the last few years! Sign up and buy your tickets now.
Hope to see you there!
What did the tomatoes say to the orange?
We are fruits too!
Bretforton, Worcestershire, England
Chicago, Illinois, United States
Juxtaposition. Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada
I remember the family visiting the Yorkdale shopping mall in Toronto shortly after it opened in 1964 and then detouring by accident to Downsview Airforce Base, then an operational airport, on the way home. Actually, we were completely lost and managed to drive out on to a runway and stopped the car while my father, the driver, got his bearings.
“Were on the fecking runway, dad”, I shouted, or would have if my schoolyard education had been more advanced than it was. I had not yet learned the word and its various and sundry derivatives.
“Look down the runway and you will see an idling airplane,” my brother, Dave, and I said loudly in unison from the backseat.
“What do you mean, airplane?” said our father, who had been in the Royal Canadian Air Force during WWII, and should have known a thing or two about airplanes, and was forever in denial.
“There. Straight ahead.”
“Where?” said he, apparently with no eyes and minimal awareness of his surroundings.
“We’re on the bloody runway!”
We were sharply silenced by our father but our family of four did somehow manage to escape without incident or questioning but security in those days was not something that anyone was remotely aware of or interested in in any way.