My Garden of Delight - a Poem of Floral Desires
Who Doesn't Love a Garden in Flower?
Who among us doesn't love the sight and smell of a garden in full and colourful bloom? If any it would be a very small minority. Perhaps those without a green thumb or love of gardening would forgo the pleasure in their own surroundings, but I doubt even those could honestly admit they were not enchanted passing by a beautifully kept garden (think Monet's garden at Giverny.)
I have always loved my gardens, though occasionally they tend to become overgrown due to my feeling lazy. At least I manage to keep the flowering beauty alive and restore the neatness over time.
Regardless of geographical region or culture gardening is perhaps the most common and shared experience of Nature.— S, Kelley Harrell
My Garden Of Delight
As I perchance to stroll
Midst your erotic scented blooms,
My senses are assailed
And deep desires are moved.
French lavender stands inviting,
Like Venus rising from the foam.
Licked by tiny flames of red hot pokers
While the wide green fronds
Of windmill palms
Hover like giant fans
Behind which gossips hide.
A row of yellow tulips
With heads held high,
Dancing the tango,
Invoking thoughts of lovers' passion.
The Mother-in-law's tongue
With long pointed leaves.
Its horns of lust beckoning
The path to temptation.
Shed their tiny petals,
Like some torn up,
Tell-tale love letter.
One lonely ruby-red rose bleeds,
Within its thorns,
Like a broken heart,
Stabbed by blood-soaked daggers.
And the pretty poet's jasmine
With flowers of starry white,
Overtakes me with its scent,
In my garden of delight.
The Perfumed Garden
I came across this book while I was still at school and was quite shocked by the contents which were not really about gardening. Needless to say, I read it in private. Although probably quite tame by today's moral standards, at the time it was written it was rather controversial. I guess in a way it inspired this semi-erotic poem. If a poem about a garden can be that. The Perfumed Garden
When the world wearies and society fails to satisfy, there is always the garden.— Minnie Aumonier
© 2014 John Hansen