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Monday, March 29, 2010

Death by Rose Thorn

My hand was on fire in the wee hours. It calmed a little in the afternoon. I doubt if it is due to the vicious rose thorn that stabbed me last week. Something more mundane, perhaps, like carpal tunnel. The mucked-up hand didn't stop me from hopping along with Willow's Magpie Tales, which asks for a spring theme. Here's the tale of how I hurt my hand:

Where I Belong

The dust lies thick
on all the shelves.
I’ve told the bills
to pay themselves.
I just don’t care
about the floors.
Dirty dishes
are such a bore.
To be honest
the bathroom tub
is filthy and
it needs a scrub.
The dog hair drifts
along the wall.
The laundry piles
are four feet tall.

I’ve turned my back
on everything
to do the chore
that makes me sing.
In the garden
I raise a sweat
with hoe and rake
and violets.
In springtime sun
I weed and prune
and hum a bit
of catchy tune.
The house could fall
I wouldn’t care.
I’m happy here
and crabby there.

Calla lilies’
heart-shaped smile
and hyacinths’
perfumey style
dance with tulips’
cherry red heads
and iris flags
in flower beds.
Sweet freesia plays
with daffodils
and rambling rose
grows where it will.
The fennel fills
the air with scent.
At dusk I ask
where daylight went.

A garden’s joy
is heaven sent.
I understand
what God once meant
to show us in
His Eden, see?
A garden grows


A new double daffodil in my collection


Lisa said...

Amen. Leave the dishes and the laundry to themselves. Go to God's garden to worship in his natural sanctuary.

Texas wild flowers are blooming and I can barely stand the beauty. :)

Beth Niquette said...

That is quite powerful.

Anonymous said...

A garden's joy is heaven sent. I love it. This is an amazing piece of work. Congratulations. Blessings

~L said...

Awesome description of why you sing.
peace, L

Dianne said...

so so so perfect in poetic form and rhythm and rhyme. and message for the god of life. you should read this out loud.

how is your thumb, green or what???????? pun intended.
dear one Di

Angie Muresan said...

This is so lovely, it belongs on the inside cover of a hymnal.

christine said...

Nothing quite as beautiful as a gardener who loves her garden!
Exquisite poem


Shadow said...

your words positively sing!

RNSANE said...

Oh, my goodness, this is too good! I can just see you outside, puttering the day away, planting and potting and enjoying the warm sunshine and, probably, talking to the garden and plants!!

Karen said...

This is a poem after my own heart! I love this:

Calla lilies’
heart-shaped smile
and hyacinths’
perfumey style
dance with tulips’
cherry red heads
and iris flags
in flower beds.
Sweet freesia plays
with daffodils
and rambling rose
grows where it will.
The fennel fills
the air with scent.
At dusk I ask
where daylight went.

...and the last stanza is perfection, Chris!! Why did we have to blow it?

Dave King said...

A post to gladden the heart and keep us spring-happy until spring really arrives. Great stuff.

Nessa said...

Lovely. Sometimes you have to ditch the other stuff for the good stuff. And nothing is better than Spring sunshine.

Scott M. Frey said...

Chris, I hope your hand improves soon, youch!

I love the meter and tempo of this poem, it definitely says spring!

Alan Burnett said...

A really pleasing poem - and there are far too few of those these days.

Tess Kincaid said...

Ah, a girl after my own heart. Fun to see you over at Carmen's!

Vicki Lane said...

My sentiments exactly! Oh, well done!

Magpie said...

There are so many things to like here...first, the title - so very simple, but accurate!

"The house could fall
I wouldn't care.
I'm happy here
and crabby there."
So wonderfully and honestly said!

"A garden grows
Nothing is so true as the truth.

Thank you for a lovely start to my day.

joanna said...

I have to clip and save this poem and put it on my refrigerator--
when my family is wondering where I am and why I spend so much time in the garden -- anyway ditto to Willow and to Vicki

Very Beautiful poem


Anonymous said...

Let's let all the housework wait, while relax outside by the garden!

amy said...


This is my favorite Magpie of the day =-)

I relate to your poem in every stack of laundry-boring house chores- way....

Gardens, indeed, grow serenity...the nearest place to heaven on earth.

Mrsupole said...

Yes, leave the dishes and the cleaning and get out and do the gardening. It will give you a bountiful harvest and a beauty to share. The birds and the bees will also partake in the booty of beauty. Wonderful, just wonderful.

Hope your hand feels better.

God bless.

Anonymous said...

Really nice. Thanks!

crownring said...

Ah, Chris, you're a woman after my own heart!

Lovely, lovely, lovely poem and photo!

M.E. :)

Unspoken said...

This makes me miss the sun! Raining and raining where I am. Stuck within four walls.

CiCi said...

I think toooooo much time at the computer causes pain in the hand/arm.We all need to give it a rest. I hope your pain lessens each day and your spirits soar in the spring richness.

Jessie said...

amen to forgetting all the chores on the inside. an enchanting poem, it puts you right there in the garden!

Rosaria Williams said...

I'm still catching up with your previous post, worried about your pain.

Peter Goulding said...

I'm happy here / and crabby there! Great short-line rhyming! Were you composing the poem while you were working?

Eric S. said...

Wonderful, wonderful, You had me singing along, acoustics in the background coming from somewhere, my own imagination I suppose.

I loved
" Calla lilies’
heart-shaped smile
and hyacinths’
perfumey style"
Well done.

My thumb is sore too, but for an entirely different reason, a disagreement with a hammer. I would rather it be for your reason.

Joan Tucker said...

yes to daffs and no to housework.. hooray for spring and ah yes violets. Joan T

rel said...

I too find peace in the garden's world of wonder.

♥ Boomer ♥ said...

Absolutely lovely!! ♥

Teri said...

I, too, am happiest in the garden. I do get excited when the house is sparkling though after a good clean. That doesn't happen all that much though. My nails are all broken from pulling weeds minus gloves. Why do I do that!

Anonymous said...

I really don't think I could get by without my garden. It is a bit of a jungle at the moment, but it still holds a lot of magic for me. I loced your poem. I would rather garden all day than do the washing up that might only take ten minutes!

Life Is A Road Trip said...

Lovely poem! I hope you're feeling better.

Jan of Thousand Acres said...

Oh yes, gardening first... cannot wait for those early mornings in the garden. Soon I hope, March is leaving us like a lamb here in New England, but our flowers are barely poking out of the ground, and no blooms yet! Lovely poetry, thoroughly enjoyed this. Thanks!

Brian Miller said...

i hope your hand is better. i have missd being around this week. beautiful and powerful words...

Aoife.Troxel said...

Great descriptions! I could really see all the flowers (and the piled laundry)

spacedlaw said...

Nothing quite as enjoyable - rewarding - as work in the garden.