Friday, February 23, 2024

For the Love of Everything














Music on the radio
Colors in the sky
I know I'll really miss it all
If and when I die.

Yes, I could live forever on
Just honey-butter bread, but
I'll miss the bees and butterflies
When I am finally dead.

The flowers and majestic trees
And sweets that make me choke
Old movies that can make me cry
I'll miss them when I croak.

The smell of toast and bacon
Or warm cinnamon buns
But all these things are left behind
The minute I'm all done.

To laugh out loud, to sing a song
A satisfying yawn
Refreshing swim, the smell of rain
They're history when I'm gone.

A garden full of radishes
The beauty of a rose
Perhaps they'd truly benefit
If I quickly decompose.

Releasing all my nutrients
I'd help the grass to grow
To feed a herd of mustangs
As I moulder down below.

Wild dogs could come and sniff me
The birds may drop some seed
The whales might sing or whistle
As my bones disperse like weeds.

It doesn't pay to whimper
I don't wish to complain
But I shall miss so many things
It causes me great pain.

So serve me tea and biscuits
I'll have that glass of wine
And give up everything I own
If I could turn back time.








Friday, February 2, 2024

Long Gone



Poppies - tjb


The coral-colored poppies

with their feathery fern-like leaves

are long gone

So are the purple coneflowers

that grew by the white picket fence

along with a black raspberry bush

where mockingbirds used to nest

The tall evergreen tree near the house

with its twin trunks

where I would hang the bird feeders

Trees - tjb

is now a vine-covered stump

And the row of slender maples

have been reduced to decaying piles of pulp

Gone, too, are the three giant pines 

that used to whisper in the wind

Even the little stream is clogged

and choked with weeds

The yarrow I planted has disappeared

No more morning glories

Good-bye, butterfly bush and flame lilies

Gone, all gone

because of men who arrive

armed with weed-whackers and lawnmowers

and ear-deafening leaf-blowers

and mechanical trimmers

The only thing left are lop-sided bushes

and a copse of tangled trees in the back

in the corner

and a few thrusting tulips

and some daring daffodils

and one little conifer who stands alone 

Miniature daffodils - tjb

not much taller than I am

The bittersweet is still there

and my comfrey, and sweet mugwort

It makes me mad

but mostly I'm sad

because I do not feel protected any more

No longer safe within the circle of life

that used to surround me

It's cold and it's bare

and I no longer care

to be here, living where

there is so little regard for the natural world

Nothing stays the same, nothing lasts forever...

only my memories


Bittersweet - tjb