DDDD NNNN AAAA (A Day 7 poem)
Overgrown your garden.
Once you would have said it with flower.
You say it anyway, the poem about tall poppies,
You grieve the removal of trees.
And you plant another forest of words.
Too much ground
given over to garden beds.
You never get back to attend them.
Keep it simple. The more you say
the less people remember.
Less is not more when it comes
to mowing lawns taken over by flower-beds.
Gardens, or more exactly,
my garden, was fleeting.
So too the majority of all poems, it is said.
I’ve never won a garden show
but am prepared to take the risk with poems
in competition. Poems are so much riskier
than gardening. Only the elements
to contend with in gardening,
whereas with poems, it’s me: kiwi, kid, (cranky)
no, that’s an Aussie expletive The chorister, feminist
frankly a freak in garden clothes.
The many sides of me I will
free again and again; find answers
and journeys and excitement.
The DNA remains the same;
the creativity, the garden neglect.
I tried not to be my mother’s daughter,
but I was; the only one out of six.
And long ago the poet won out.
Benita H. Kape © 7/8.4.2018
This is not the poem I thought I’d be bringing you. Though my mother has several writers in her 2nd generation, I was the only one in the first. For her, it may not have ended up her strength but for me, it’s what drives me.