My Garden of Delight - a Poem of Floral Desires

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.

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

Beckoning, seducing.

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.

Delicate forget-me-nots

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.

I came across this book The Perfumed Garden 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.