VANITY

Chaos lingers in our garden...  

rocks in slopes of bare earth,

uninvited seedlings of that hardhearted Locust

on the fringe; an encroachment of idiot Honeysuckle

reaches devious tendrils in every direction, and a

proliferation of weeds.

A White Oak on the edge once kissed the lightening

and bears long scars down one side,

a testimony to wanton passion.

I planted a willow by the pond ten years ago;

it cried its last tear in that late frost last spring,

a karma of hubris.

The almost hollow Cherry drops fruit in the dust

and pulses slow gobbets of sap from

the edges of its wounds.

We spend evenings out there in the white lawn chairs

sipping bourbon and whisper amidst a cacophony

of lusty frogs croaking frantic desire.

The Roses have littered dry petals at their roots,

the Irises came and went, and the Lilies are

thin this year.

The thing that haunts me, though,

is the Scarlet Tanager,

red as Eve’s apple, that came down

from the canopy one day

for some Blackberries

to punctuate our futility.

Reviews

[Lorry]

Every time i hear the word bourboun i think of American comedian Rich Hall, who is based in the UK and his alter ego Otis Lee Crenshaw, singing "give me back my whiskey, as i pour a Laphroaig single malt and chuckle away at his take on single malt vs bourboun.
We might have crappy weather where the sky looks like its been lowered to ceiling height and have to wear five layers of clothes just to reach the nearest mall, but at least we can't move for tripping over a distillery and knowing that deep down, all is good with the world.
Listen to this and you'll know deep down that anythinhlg you need to drown in cola so you cant taste it isn't all that to begin with.
Its almost 4am here, which is too early to have a drink here if you've just woken up, but still early if you've been up all night! 😀
Cheers....

https://youtu.be/aVvkZ_6TQMA?si=l1YluHDGnvtVlUKv

[Vol]

Lorry,
Good Bourbon, good Single Malt Scotch... Love them both.. way too much...
Vol

[Soren]

A painting of realism with such vivid imagery that I sensed being there. I thought at the beginning that this was going to be metaphor with the weeds, after all nature is nonprejudicial and is equal to all. The Scarlet Tanager added a bit of motion to this still life so well painted.

[John F]

There’s so many memories of longing guiding this poem. And so many beautiful phrases. Think I’ll read this again, a few more times through, to live in the sounds and vivid imagery

[Vol]

Thank you, John,
I lived there for twenty years, and miss it, terribly,
especially since Kimberly died... my gardener kept it well.
Vol

[Costa Siwale]

This poem beautifully weaves nature, decay, and quiet despair into a reflective outlook on time, loss, and inevitability. It's left a haunting impression on reflection for me. Well, done

[Vol]

Costa,
Thank you! I've since moved away to a much less attractive place... I miss it terribly...
Vol

[Costa Siwale]

Am sorry to hear that Vol, but I guess that that will only be more fuel for your poetry.

[Vol]

Lots of memories!

[ETERNITY]

Yes! I see it differently now:
The Roses have littered dry petals at their roots,

the Irises came and went, and the Lilies are

thin this year.



The thing that haunts me, though,

is the Scarlet Tanager,

red as Eve’s apple, that came down

from the canopy one day

for some Blackberries

to punctuate our futility.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Hugs tightly, Volcano.

[Vol]

Hugs are wonderful!

[redd Brick Keshner]

And the “V” series continues solidly! You go, vol with great volume🙏🏻🕊️

[Vol]

Bred,
You noticed... No one else has... Thank you for treating poetry with enough respect to show you have a mind in your heart...
Vol

[redd Brick Keshner]

You’re welcome V🙏🏻🕊️

[ETERNITY]

Thank you, Poet, for giving us a peek into your Garden of Paradise, the evenings spent sipping bourbon in lawn chairs...I can see nothing more happy than that,,,,,,so ... I'm glad.

It's really a well told image casing work, so like you eloquent Poet.

[Vol]

That was from before Kimberly died... such a gardener, she was!
Vol