My Garden- Refuge from the Living

The eye of the beholder.
The eye of the beholder.

My Garden- Refuge from the Living

By Tony DeLorger © 2011

Elegant they may be, the twisted tendril yearning of vines so rampant

patchwork the greying splintered fence, parched and shredded under sun.

Teeth all staggered, black-rooted, stare out wistfully on the past,

days of green and propagation lost to the ravages of inaction.


Hardy natives stretch out for light, their narrow-armed plumage-lacking claws

grasping at the dew-soaked air for sustenance.

Their progeny brown and shrivelled lay on the salting crystal earth to waste,

A dark sorrow of life dreamt and never realised.


Grasses, now browning needle sticks, lay in tufted groups of protest,

stricken patches of blemished life clawing for light.

Seeding paspalum desperate for renewal, prays for turbulence

and the passage for hope and flight to a resting nutrient earth.


Figs, the fruit of salacious verse have fallen to rot, picked by feathered prey

and hollowed to a dry husk, scattered like beach shells.

Flowered trees eking out life amid the squaller, petals up to soak the rays

branches spindle-like radiate like fallen toothpicks, too heavy to reach.


Weeds flourish in my garden, left to dominate this drying desert of will,

each grasping earth with probing fingers, searching crusted death for life.

Seeds leaching out into possibility, escaping to find the essence,

the nourishment of favour in this garden of souls.


Ants and tiny lives flourish in the decay, wallowing in the nature of ebb and flow,

fervent lives following their call, busy relentless lives true and purposeful.

This garden of mine is not dead; it is abundant with life, scratchy, callus but noble,

Everything a garden should be is here in my vision, beauty, death and promise.


I love my garden, for all its pain and torture, a living loving portrait of death and rebirth,

so profound in its justice, I cannot contrive of any other.

How masterful is life, prepared to loose everything to gain everything,

the power of life is enigmatic, yet its display is an endless parody of our ignorance.

Comments 2 comments

Tony DeLorger profile image

Tony DeLorger 5 years ago from Adelaide, South Australia Author

Glad you enjoyed it Brenda, and thanks for your comment. I hope you continue to enjoy my work. Take care.


Brenda Holstine profile image

Brenda Holstine 5 years ago from Denton, Texas

This one really touches my heart. The garden/life metaphor is one that I live every day.

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