Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Dreams Go Up in Smoke

For this reformed pot-smoking, pill-popping, booze-swilling child of the Sixties, it's a little disappointing that voters in the progressive state of California just said no to legalizing marijuana in yesterday's election. All I say for myself is: It would have been interesting.

Californians also nixed the notion of being governed by the very rich Lady eBay mogul, even if she does come with one of the biggest piggy banks in the world. Over a hundred million bucks later, it looks like her dreams went up in smoke.

My home state apparently prefers the aging former governor famous for once being the boyfriend of a pop star. Any connection to stardom plucks at the heart-strings of the average joe.

But enough politics already. It's going to be 90 degrees today, with clear blue skies. I've got a date with the outdoors to bring some order to the weary ones you'll meet in this poem:

At Least the Red Geraniums Behaved

Shame on the dahlias.
Their stalks, at the autumn equinox,
should be tall and green,
thick with offshoots
blooming like crazy.

Instead they stand in a motley row,
stalks of desiccated leaves
brown as bacon. Just because
they weren’t tended and fed
is no excuse for their poor behavior.
The gardener was busy
tending dying mothers,
fending off bitter brothers,
defending the defenseless
from injustice inflicted
on an entire nation
by the federal effing government.
Couldn’t the dahlias fend for themselves
for one stupid summer?

It looks like an army
with a scorched-earth vengeance
blew through the garden.
Maybe the dahlias are empathetic
mirrors of the gardener’s
scorched-earth soul,
but the tumbling geraniums
never surrendered;
they cheerfully endured
and their bright red laughter
keeps the gardener alive.


the walking man said...

I would trust Jerry Brown and his old lady before I would even put a bookmark on my PC to Ebay. But I di win a bet with a fanatic republican when prop pot went down.

That will be one sweet coffee as I gloat. Man the illegal growers spent millions defeating that proposition. You can't tax the bud man it just ain't right. Tax the Middle class some more.

Dave King said...

I guess so many folk have been fed bum info' about cannabis for so long, that events like this are only to be expected.

On a more cheerful note, I love the thought of Dahlias having empathy for the gardener's scorched-earth soul!

Syd said...

This backward state did what it always does--conservative to the core and progressive only in backward thinking.

Yvonne Osborne said...

It's refreshing to know that in a few isolated cases money still won't buy political office. I'm afraid to listen to the news this morning. I LOVE your poem. Up until our recent killing frosts my impatiens out-performed all my perennials for fall color. And then there is the hardy mum who shakes off the frost and beams away without any tending whatsoever.

Marion said...

"they cheerfully endured
and their bright red laughter
keeps the gardener alive." this poem. I certainly hope the gardener doesn't have a scorched-earth soil...just laugh with the geraniums...!

Mine are still blooming, despite the -15C temperatures we've been having. I've decided. Next year, more geraniums!

Sorry they voted no on legalizing would have made a difference.

The Bug said...

Love this - silly helpless dahlias. Geraniums really are much more hardy (petunias too, for that matter). Perhaps this winter you may brood about the summer & then let the spring rains wash you clean again...

Myrna R. said...

Selfish Dahlias. Thank goodness for the geraniums. Cute poem.

Magpie said...

So glad your geraniums hung in there to bring you smiles.
I just did my fall planting now that the worst of the summer heat is gone. But like you, we're supposed to be back up in the 90's again today. It is November, right?

Monkey Man said...

You are sounding a bit hard on yourself here. Sad your siblings sqaubble instead of remembering.

e said...

Well, your elections turned out better than ours, pot notwithstanding...

I'm still scratching my head and wondering if the rest of the populace here are all brain dead...

Nice poem.

Totalfeckineejit said...

God bless the Geraniums!!

Marla said...

I hate the way it gets so weird after. You, my dear, are handling it the best way I know how...write it down!

Rinkly Rimes said...

Thanks for visiting me. There's a gulf between what I call lah-di-dah doggerel and simile-ridden blank verse! You and I sit comfortably in the middle. I loved your poem, and I enjoyed the subtle humour. So many un-rhymed poems are just soul-searching nonsense, I find.Incidentally, I also write 'your' type of poetry. But I like rhyming because I can do it while I'm walking to the shops. I love the idea of you admonishing the flowers to 'look after themselves'!

young-eclectic-encounters said...

I know how you feel, except my garden lost out to knee surgery. It would seem that perennials that are supposed to last could last on their own or maybe someone could see the struggle and help out but it doesn't always work that way. All we can do is look for the troopers who make it through in spite of the odds, sometimes they are the surprising ones, and enjoy them. Love the sentiment.
In my garden the blanketflowers,cypress vine, purple cornflower,and surprise my roses made it through. Surprisingly I tried balsam flowers this year and they died out only to have seeds sprout for a fall flower display (hopefully they won't be to invasive)
Please check out my blog and the post Broken I think you will really appreciate it.
Johnina :^A