Quite Naturally for M 'lady Tai Chi Italy
My garden is a wilderness.
Devoid of all formality
but full of beauty nonetheless.
There everything grows naturally.
Self seeded plants grow where they please
with trees and shrubs placed randomly.
A haunt of butterflies and bees
and fairies too quite probably.
I do not choose to interfere
with what nature decides to do
She knows what plants will flourish here
but always subject to review.
She is a master gardener
superior to any man.
It is entirely up to her
to carry out her master plan.
There’s nothing that I need to do.
Nature supplies the maintenance.
As seasons change so does the view.
Always kept in perfect balance.
The only thing which I supply
are garden seats of weathered wood.
Chosen to blend in carefully
as I intended that they should.
Somewhere to sit and meditate
or if you choose, to read or write.
And sometimes if the hour grows late.
Enjoy the quiet of the night.
My garden is a wilderness
devoid of all formality.
Not the result of laziness
I leave it how it wants to be
26-Sep-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Related quotes
Garden of Life
A garden of life is again a garden that I desire,
It grows from a point and a line that I concoct,
The real line is here, the garden is upon us.
What can May bring towards the end of the day?
It is summer evening, gardener of the week is absent
To feel fellowship with flowers and with plants and with trees.
Why do the seasons give in? What do you do in the night?
The day felt a picture too bold for the night, which was kind,
I like it when heat has ridden past the day.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Garden of Soul
My soul’s garden must grow those plants
And trees and shrubs that yield good fruits;
Sin grows like weeds that stifle growth
Of virtues and more vices grow.
The grace of Almighty God comes
Down on soul’s garden as sun, rain,
As virtues grow in more numbers,
And sin-weeds turn a scarce member.
poem by John Celes
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My Trees
The tree has branches so full of life’s teaching,
Anyone stays inside this house of wood.
My trees are in my garden of roses,
They are full of beauty, my garden tries hard
To learn and grow like humans and animals.
Your knowledge survives, my garden lives on
As it deserves to, my harder gardening is a concept.
Trees increase us in numbers, plants normally learn
Outright, their infinity is greater than ours.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Our Marriage Is Our Garden
Our marriage is our garden.
I want our garden to be beautiful.
With lush green grass,
With fragrant and colourful flowers.
A place of solace.
A place of peace.
A place of love.
Our garden must be watered.
Not watered too much.
As that would saturate the ground.
Not watered too little.
As that would leave the plants wilted.
And our grass barren.
But regularly.
So the flowers can stand tall
It must be weeded.
It must be maintained.
It must be loved.
We will plant seeds in our garden.
For new life makes any garden more beautiful and diverse.
We can harvest the fruit trees, but our harvest is limited
If we eat all the fruit too quick,
Then we must wait until the next harvest to eat again.
If we don't pick the fruit when it is right, it will spoil.
Our harvest is for our family.
If I eat all the fruit myself, then they will starve.
If we eat too much we will get sick.
If we eat what we are supposed to, then we will be healthy.
If we do not monitor the fruit,
Then someone might eat more than their share.
If we do not stand guard in our garden,
A thief might come into the garden to steal our fruit.
The fruit for our family.
For their garden must be barren and their crops have spoiled.
Our garden will stand the test of all seasons.
As all gardens do.
Another garden will also experience the same seasons.
Just at different times.
All gardens face rain.
All gardens get sun.
It is the rain that nourishes the garden and helps it's life to grow.
But our garden must be maintained regularly.
Only artificial things require no maintenance.
The artificial has no life.
It is fake, it is plastic.
Our garden needs to be real.
So life may grow and continue to grow.
So one day our children can enjoy a garden of their own.
For them and their children.
May their garden be overflowing with life and love.
And be the most beautiful garden in the world.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Less’er Love, And A Rose, In My Garden
I am gardener…. I prune, sheer… at times
…at times I have lesser love
And in less is more, very much more
…………….and there is this garden
..the garden, ours by the Grace of the Life Force, supreme God
..there is this Rose, and those Roses there… all chose a place to be
I, the Gardner choose the blooms from which Rose goes to the glass next my bed
I love this Rose, and less but similar those other
….they decide when to bloom
In sping late winter their souls weep, as I sheer, as I must
In spring and summer and early winter we rejoice as they bloom abundantly
…..every night one bloom from The Rose that’ad also chosen me
in the glass of water next my bed read to me, and comfort me
the delicate-, bewitching fragrance the bookmark for tomorrow night
I love that Rose as my chosen
I am gardener…. I prune, sheer… at times
…..only one Rose reads to me… I a lesser Gardener
Lesser, cause I’m only able t’love one Rose…..this Rose here
….those Roses there, some’r lessor Roses, some’r superior Roses, are my friends
Lesser in texture, shape and fiber and fragrance
Some superior in texture, or shape and or fiber and or fragrance
Friends equal in dimension with the Rose, but less in love than the Rose
…..every night one bloom from The Rose, that’s chosen me
in the glass of water next my bed read to me, and comfort me
the delicate-, bewitching fragrance the bookmark for tomorrow night
I love that Rose as my chosen
I, the gardener…. I prune, sheer…. at times
These other Roses who chose my garden
...so valuable in a muchness o’ Friendship,
…the quality their love much the same as that The Rose
Different the lesser my love, even though my caring equals that towards The Rose
We are blessed, those of us in the garden
…the magnificence of this garden in my life is the sumtotal of you all in my garden
I drink your fragrance intoxicated with love
I love The Rose, and my friends these other Roses in the garden Bless this love
poem by Johan Fourie
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My Garden
My garden is a special place
Where morning blows its breeze
And sun dries the morning mists.
Where different plants and shrubs
Soothe the sight with flowers and buds.
My garden is a special place
Where busy bees fly and kiss
The beauty of flowers their nectar sipped
Where butterflies fly high and low
Attracting passers on the go.
My garden is a special place
Where I laid my worries and grief
Where I spend hours of peace
Where I hum with total bliss
Where I go and my stress ceased.
poem by Rose de Ramar
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Chronology is Bunkum For MY Lady Irene
The garden when the sun has set.
Becomes a very different place.
It is quite easy to forget
the fall of night cannot erase.
The beauty which we see by day.
A garden is a hallowed place.
The moon will rise to show the way
Light granted by the Goddess’ grace.
Moonlight will silver all we see.
My love and walk hand in hand.
The garden transformed magically
into our private fairyland.
The moon is smiling from on high
To see two lovers fond embrace
She knows full well the reason why
gardens by night are filled with grace.
There is a bench where we can sit.
Enjoy the quiet of night
Admire the roses silver lit
by gentle beams of soft moonlight.
The night wind rises turning cold
Remind us that its time for bed
We know that we are growing old
Surprised how quickly years have fled.
We won’t admit to being old.
Bar to each other privately.
Pretending to be young and bold.
Defying age aggressively.
Because you do not need to know.
It’s obvious we are mature
Our way of life sedate and slow.
Though you may guess you can’t be sure.
We won’t be old until we choose.
Determined to stay young at heart
Because we stubbornly refuse
To let the aging process start
27/07/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Setting the scene for M lady Lucianne
Few know where shy white violets grow
but I am one of those who do.
Just take my hand and we will go
together to a place I know.
I am prepared to share with you
But you must swear you will not tell
a single soul for if you do.
Too many folks will go there to
grub up the plants and take them home
to plant them in their garden plot.
Where other folks are not welcome
I would not mind if they took some.
But know quite well they’ll take them all
and leave not one single plant behind.
Their greed would be the plants downfall.
There would be none for us to find.
When we go walking hand in hand
along this pretty lovers lane.
I know my love you understand.
The violets grow where nature planned.
That white violets are very rare,
they are not meant to be confined.
They do not need a gardeners care
You will see when we get there.
Their beauty in a natural state.
Where they were intended to be,
I know you will appreciate
why I swear you to secrecy.
But I trust you implicitly
I know that you will not betray
the shy white violets or me.
You are the soul of honesty.
That’s why I am in love with you.
Not only are you sweet and kind
but to your word you’re always true.
and do what you say you will do.
When we get there I will propose
and hope that you will answer yes.
I think you have guessed my purpose
and know exactly why I chose.
To show my violets to you
today and now in early spring,
In fact I am convinced you do.
You know me far too well not to.
4-Dec-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Rose
A ROSE, as fair as ever saw the North,
Grew in a little garden all alone;
A sweeter flower did Nature ne'er put forth,
Nor fairer garden yet was never known:
The maidens danced about it morn and noon,
And learned bards of it their ditties made;
The nimble fairies by the pale-faced moon
Water'd the root and kiss'd her pretty shade.
But well-a-day!--the gardener careless grew;
The maids and fairies both were kept away,
And in a drought the caterpillars threw
Themselves upon the bud and every spray.
God shield the stock! If heaven send no supplies,
The fairest blossom of the garden dies.
poem by William Browne
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A Monumental task for My grandaughter Chitra
A garden walled in rose red brick.
Which traps the sun and holds the heat
our forbears did not miss a trick.
Few modern gardens can compete.
Fruit trees espaliered to the walls
and cultivated carefully
The garden echoed to the calls
of children playing happily.
And so it was for centuries.
But family fortunes rise and fall.
We must endure what fare decrees
we have no choice no choice at all.
The garden fell into neglect
with weeds self seeding where they chose.
There’s little else you could expect.
As any good gardener knows.
.
The garden now belongs to me.
I have the means I have the will.
I will restore it perfectly
I can employ the men with skill.
To do all that needs to be done
a task that I will supervise.
It is too much for me alone
So I must listen to advice.
I will create a paradise
concealed within the rose red walls.
That is well ordered and precise.
The man who pays the piper calls
the tune.I can afford to pay
and what I seek is harmony.
A formal garden which today
is something of a rarity.
A cherished dream I can make true
Restore it as it used to be.
It’s something which I have to do.
In my ancestors memory.
My great grand father twice removed
created it originally
I am convinced it was well loved
by him and all his family.
This garden will be loved again
when restoration is complete.
My work will not have been in vain
I complement I don’t compete.
I followed carefully the plan
of how grandfather laid it out.
A monument to the old man
He would approve I have no doubt..
28-Feb-09
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The only Way to go.
Some choose to grow old quietly
but others take a different view.
They chose to live disgracefully.
Why should you give up having fun.
Because you’ve reached a certain age.
There are still things you haven’t done.
You want to do before you die
Though your time may be limited.
You see no reason not to try
To make your madcap dreams come true.
Why should you sit and vegetate
as other folks expect you to.
You are the captain of your fate.
So you can do what you want to.
Tomorrow may be far too late.
So do it now immediately.
Regardless of the consequence.
What does it matter anyway?
Society may not agree.
You have the right to your own view
Choose to act disgracefully.
You’ll find that life is much more fun
than sitting watching the T.V.
Show the world you’re still someone
Seize every opportunity
that life’s prepared to offer you.
To shock your neighbours thoroughly.
They choose to sit and wait to die.
You choose to do the opposite.
You won’t surrender easily/
But fight until your final breath
because it is your nature to
Although you know you can’t beat death.
You know that one day you must die
but until then you choose to live
Just as you wish disgracefully.
01/09/09
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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And Why not for M 'lady Tara
On the outskirts of the city
There’s a place that’s very pretty.
A semi rural paradise
for those who can afford the price.
A small elite community
where the norm’s eccentricity.
If you should choose to garden nude
your neighbours would not think you rude.
The watchword here is tolerance
It would not rate a second glance
From neighbours who were passing by.
Although some might wonder why.
You choose to garden in the nude
because you want to they conclude.
28-Jun-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Electric storm for M' lady Ernestine
The darkness of the night is rent
By lightning bolts that burn blue/white
The power of Nature apparent.
It is a truly awesome sight.
A heavenly firework display.
A lesson in humility
or merely just the Gods at play
It could be either possibly.
Depending how you choose to view,
this natural phenomenon.
Of course the choice is left to you.
Because it is so quickly gone
I choose to take the former view.
A lesson which is overdue.
Wednesday,02 February 2011
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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A Rose And A Blade Of Grass
When rain falls to the ground
from the skies,
Its the Heavens kissing the
Earth,
When they make love-
Flowers, fruits, green grasses
are the offspring,
Dont lets kill these plants,
Cutting them down, classing
them as weeds-
Taking them away from their
mothers breath
After being vivified by tears of
love from their father,
Tears of men are sacred.
The Sun does not choose where
to shine,
Must we choose what plants are
of
More value than others?
A blade of grass I pick for you
In a den full of lions,
Must surely mean more than a
rose
I pick for you in a garden full of
butterflies.
© November 7,2011
poem by Isunge Mwangase
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I can.
Inverted hexaduadad.
I can
choose to be a man.
Stand tall upon my own two feet
Or to retreat.
The choice is up to me.
Though not quite free
I can’t refuse
I am compelled to choose.
What shall I do.
I will not change my view
I will be the best man
I can.
Saturday,10 July 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Where the passion flower grows
Lay down on your pillow
and turn the lights down low
let me take you to the garden
where the passion flower grows
Close your eyes and enter dreams
as love's emotion sets the scene
and flitters through the garden
where the passion flower grows
Touch the tender petals
of the flower as she grows
a tentative endeavour
as your feelings overflow
Let me draw you to the place
where ecstasy can be embraced
the beauty of the garden
where the passion flower grows
Feel your mind exploding
in the heavy scented air
experience the shiver
as your captured unaware
A little touch of heaven
where imagination flows
the valley in the garden
where the passion flower grows.
poem by Charles M. Moore
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My Wonderment Of Nature
The more I learn of Nature the less about her I know I know
What causes the sea currents and what causes plants to grow
What causes the pink or white blossoms in Spring to grow on the fruit bearing tree?
So magical is Nature or so 'twould seem to me.
The great beauty of Nature we do not pay to see
The landscapes, lakes and waterways the vastness of the sea
In comparison to Nature human achievements small
And she outlives all of her life forms the greatest one of all.
To the one known as Earth Mother respect we do not pay
Yet she lives on forever and we grow old and gray
Those who talk of human immortals believe in their own lie
There is one immortal Nature and she will never die.
My wonderment of Nature grows with every passing day
The beauty in the bird song in the wood across the way
The Goddess of the Ocean and the Goddess of the Land
And that we take her for granted is something I do not understand
poem by Francis Duggan
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Planning stage for Friend Konstantin
This garden is not as it should be. It’s sad to see
neglected now and over grown. It was once known
To house a rather special stone which stood alone.
Which is not where it used to be as you can see.
This garden suffers from neglect but I expect.
It can be made beautiful once more, we can restore
it to how it was to before. To be once more
A quiet pace to meditate, its not too late.
Despite its neglected state I cannot wait
to start the transformation.It must be done.
I’m happy to anticipate though I must wait.
Before I can contemplate the finished state
of my own haven in the sun. Not yet begun
Baroque sonnet
Alexandrine meter
6 metric feet or 12 syllables per line
Rhyme pattern
abba
cddc
eef
ggf
11/05/20 09
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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A matter of choice for M'Lady Indira
Some take their writing seriously
Whilst others are just dilettantes
Though my muse states imperiously,
that I must write the way she wants
The duties writers undertake
are manifold and various.
They have to write make no mistake
on subjects light or serious.
They know it is their duty to
deflate the self important fools.
Who in their ignorance pursue
a vain attempt to scrap all rules.
Discard the lessons of the past.
Insisting anything will do.
A fashion I am sure wont last
when readers can compare it to.
Fine verse that stood the test of time.
The glories of formality
by masters of meter and rhyme.
Which they left for posterity.
Though I concede all have the right,
to write in any way they choose.
To some free form is sheer delight.
All down to taste I must suppose.
26-Jul-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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It is Spring Time
It is Spring Time
It is spring time.
I can smell it in the air.
I can smell the flowers.
I can smell the grass.
I can touch the grass.
I can touch and taste the vegetable growing in the garden.
The weather is changing.
The weather is warming up.
The trees are blossoming.
The flowers are blossoming.
It is spring time.
Easter has passed.
Beltane has passed.
Spring and May is here.
This is the time to tend to your garden and planted some flowers.
Some people pray to God to protect their garden.
Some people pray to Mother Nature for protect.
I do both and I thank God for this planet.
It is Spring Time.
The animals and bugs come out to play.
The frogs jump around the pond.
The wildflower comes out.
The sky is clean and blue.
The sun is shining.
The horses are running free.
The sunflowers are growing.
When seasons the earth also changes it is a beautiful way.
Nature is every where.
It is spring time.
There is rain and storm.
The trees have leaves and it arms.
The trees are ancient.
An apple falls down from the trees.
This is what thinks spring time is for me.
Spring time is beautiful.
Spring time is when nature is beautiful.
It is spring time.
Spring time is here.
The rabbits come out, and hop round.
The bees are collection honey for us.
The tulips are blossoming.
The roses are blossoming, and looking so beautiful.
The lavender is purple and bright.
Spring time is a time to celebrate.
Spring time is a time to clean our environment.
It is spring time.
Spring time is a time when rain falls.
Spring time is the time when the seasons changes.
Spring time is when the plants grow.
Spring time is my favorite season.
Spring time is the time to be happy.
It is spring time.
poem by Crystal Chown
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