Previous Version
This is a previous version of The Garden Gate.
Soft cream of butter is the center of the bud, creeping up
the pedals wall is a cool shade of violet; it is blotted in appearance making a
watermark pattern that is repeated in various shades.They are generously crowned in deep green frayed
leaf that is as dark as it is full. Next to this lovely two-toned bush is a slender
grouping of crimson tulips. A garden
gate was hung just there with tulips on each side, no fencing of any kind to
mark the way only the blooms of spring; and the pristinely painted swinging
gate.This simple gate housed two chairs
also painted white. A table was found on that piece of ground and an arched honeysuckle
vine where a small brass wind chime was canceled. Mint-julep must have been
sipped from those whom once here sat, and on occasion with an eastern wind I
catch faint hint of old-spice and mint. It is at those times I stop my work and
listen to the brass chimes and without fail the garden hinge will speak as I
see that old gate begin to swing.
ShellyHoltLowery wrote a story of laundry line scent, and now your garden gate,cool,I love the two of you and the words ring promise, the cycle of life like red clay dirt deep in those who can read the suns words as it sets. Had to take a breath ,good story.
.wow you can picture a story and let its details surround us i love your work this isn't whimsical but it is wistful full of gentle beauty and delicately poetically portrayed
Posted 4 Years Ago
4 Years Ago
I really love this little piece and have always wanted to start a story with it
Aww, sad final line brings a soft sigh, knowing that you are not waiting in anticipation for their eager return, but reminiscing of what once was.
But lets face it, the picture you paint with your words here Cherrie makes it sound like a perfect place to be. Well, almost perfect.
I have never had to leave the house to review a piece accurately before, but when you mentioned no fences, I realised something that a more observant person wouldnt have to frighten the neighbour across the way who was smoking as I passed.... But anyhoo, I have checked and yes, I have just realised we dont have fenced gardens here either. (i really need to start paying more attention) :)
A presence in the present.. and so beautifully laid for your reviewers and admirers, Cherrie. You've created a time of colours and scents that really reach the senses - tis how real poetry works its best. I don't recall this poem from way back when.. so, it's such a bonus to find it - calm and welcoming, in the early hours of tomorrow only recently arrived.
Thank you so much Emma,
I'm thinking of using this to open a story. I'm still knocking aroun.. read moreThank you so much Emma,
I'm thinking of using this to open a story. I'm still knocking around the notion.
5 Years Ago
Will wait patiently.. not say another word.. shhhh
Smiling and hoping.
This feels like someone looking into the past as well as forward to springtime? Which I can't wait for... Is the hint of old-spice and mint from drinks once drank there?
Old spice was a common cologne men use to have and mint leaves were used for a mint julep a old so.. read moreOld spice was a common cologne men use to have and mint leaves were used for a mint julep a old southern drink.
This reminds me of a scene that would have been in the Secret Garden. I love the mystery of the garden and the elaborate details that paint a picture in the mind of a slow stroll of the past.
ShellyHoltLowery wrote a story of laundry line scent, and now your garden gate,cool,I love the two of you and the words ring promise, the cycle of life like red clay dirt deep in those who can read the suns words as it sets. Had to take a breath ,good story.
I am a published poet and love poetry. I live near the White River, and love trout fishing. I find my surroundings a great inspiration to me. I also have two books on Amazon Kindle: Obsession Starts.. more..