Tag Archives: poetry

Cicadas are singing

Cicadas sing of summer Simmering their sound In a round Calling for a mate Chanting and chirping Shouting out a warning A glorious cacophony A lullaby of summer Did you know… That only male cicadas make sing?  The females make a small buzzing noise to talk to a mate, but only the male sings the […]

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Forget-Me-Not

While I am away. While I am away from you, When we must be apart; Take these words I give to you, And tuck them in your heart. Keep them there inside of you, For only you to hear; Then if you’re ever lonely, Just know that I am near. You are the very sunshine, […]

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“I Think I Shall Never See…”

I think that I shall never see A billboard lovely as a tree. Perhaps, unless the billboards fall, I’ll never see a tree at all. – Ogden Nash, Song of the Open Road, 1933 — Weather When Posted –Temperature: 71°F;Humidity: 70%;Heat Index: 74°F;Wind Chill: 71°F;Pressure: 30.01 in.;

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Lady Hollyhock

Robert Louis Stevenson (England, nineteenth century) The Flowers All the names I know from nurse: Gardener’s garters, Shepherd’s purse, Bachelor’s buttons, Lady’s smock, And the Lady Hollyhock. Fairy places, fairy things, Fairy woods where the wild bee wings, Tiny trees for tiny dames– These must all be fairy names! — Weather When Posted –Temperature: 78°F;Humidity: […]

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An Iris Blessing

An Iris Blessing May your blooms be floriferous and in good form, Distinctive, with good substance, flare, and airborne, With standards and falls that endure, never torn. May you display many buds and blooms sublime, In graceful proportion on strong stalks each day, Gently floating above the fans and the fray. May you too reach […]

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In Grandmother’s Garden

In Garndmother’s garden the hollyhocks Row upon row lifted wreathed stalks With bloom of purple, of pearly white, Of close-frilled yellow, of crimson bright. In Grandmother’s garden the roses red Grew in a long, straight garden bed, By yellow roses with small close leaves; Any yuccas – we called them Adams and Eves! Threaded with […]

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Garden Poetry

My garden will never make me famous I’m a horticultural ignoramous. Ogden Nash (1902 – 71)

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