The Man In The Garden

Poem By Elaine Sept

I wish I could have been in the Garden,
Where first you groomed those tender rows of rhyme,
When the Sculptor, the Doctor, the Poet,
Planted seeds ripe for the marking of time.

Age of ruin sown just beneath the free surface,
Amid the sunshine, both shadows and light.
The damp cold earth composting troubles rooted,
Whispers of White Ships, Pilgrim Roads and of plight.

Could I but travel in primordial moments,
Marvel in song that lingers still amid those trees,
Ponder breaths of whispered creation,
Lean with the birch against a salty breeze.

This clay, once miry, has now hardened,
Crazing has harshly altered its textured grace,
Yet, each fine vessel is uniquely crafted,
To harbour love within its living vase.

Yesterday may steal some light within us,
But shadowed facades the sun exposes just like scars,
Pooling rain bridging sojourns together…
Love is a surge on our way to the stars.

Comments about The Man In The Garden

What a delightful poem. You have a great talent
Yesterday may steal some light within us, But shadowed facades the sun exposes just like scars, Pooling rain bridging sojourns together… Love is a surge on our way to the stars. I think this is the best stanza of the poem. It ties in all of your other ideas. This is superb craftsman ship G.B. Smith (Bear)
Hey there Elaine I love your poetic heart. You paint pictures with your words G.B. Smith
wow....beautiful what tender ideas and metaphors liked sat... :)
A beautiful poem of fine images.Very delicate too.


Rating Card

4,8 out of 5
5 total ratings

Other poems of SEPT

Your Season

The quiet willow softly blossoms,
With her gentle blush of red,
Love's tender touch so shyly felt,
Through sunshine spilled overhead.

A Fresh Journey

Son of the earth and sea and sand,
Dwell not on the trials of yesterday,
Bridges, and tunnels, and barns
Ghostly reflections of passageways and dwellings