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Poet, Artist and co-owner of Lasting Images Photography

Friday, July 16, 2010


Totally loving this trip. Expect pictures later.

Monday, July 12, 2010


Sitting in a hotel in Tallahassee listening to my husband snore. A long long day of driving and another tomorrow but great friends waiting at the end.

Friday, July 09, 2010


Had a great visit with my sister-in-law and her husband. And now we are eagerly getting ready for our Florida trip!!!

Rising Sunflower

Monday, July 05, 2010

An old one

The daisy facts made me remember an old poem I wrote. It related to a list a friend gave me explaining the Victorian "symbolism of flowers" There was a whole list: a tulip, especially a yellow one meant deception. Foxgloves indicated infidelity. Accepting a flower with the right or left hand expressed a positive or negative response to a suitor. Hibiscus indicated desire; pansies, suspicion; daisies, dissembling. It was a very detailed code that everyone had to understand if they were to cultivate or give flowers. I found it  amusing as well as poetic.

The Symbolism of Flowers
Eyes of day, white-petaled
dissemblers. He loves me-loves me not,
with all those tactile promises.
And in their midst, a tulip
as yellow as a caution sign.
So much for the symbolism of flowers.
I carry my cuttings inside
and tell myself if he reaches
to take them with his right hand
that means yes, the left means no.
But he doesn’t look up from his copy
of Car and Driver.
In my youth I tucked pink hibiscus
behind my ear to signify
an amorous mood. In time
I pinned forget-me-nots
over my middle-aged heart. Lately
I cultivate pansies and suspicion.
I fancy he has slipped on foxgloves.
But perhaps it is just indifference.
I might be telling the story of a man
who fell asleep in a poppy field and forgot
the lover he was, maker of cardiac cadences.
We continue. We have a license.
I head to the kitchen in search of a vase,
an informal one for simple stems.
There my two-faced daisies litter
the tile in a mute heap,
rendered silent by a single bud.
The language of flowers may be obscure
      but everyone knows what a red rose means.

Facts About Daisies: found poem

Offered here with some minor editing
Facts about Daisies
They originated in western Europe
In Scotland they were known as Gools
A man there could be taxed if he had 
too many daisies growing in his fields
They are known to grow wild and cover whole meadows
They are very hardy, often considered a weed
But some people eat daisy leaves in a salad 
or brew herbal tea that is said to be medicinal
Many animals eat daisies but not pigs or cows
They are the eyes of day and grow best in sunlight,
a perennial returning year after year
Daisies bloom in the summer months, 
over 200 types of them: Africans, Shastas, 
Brown-Eyed-Susans and more
Children make daisy chains, girls pluck their petals
“He loves me , he loves me not” as if daisies knew
Legend says their numbers could predict
how long till a maiden wed
After 39 years its seed might still grow

Sunday, July 04, 2010

Great one for the 4th

Great one for the 4th in this nation of immigrants.
Thanks, Rus, for this link!

Immigrants Picnic

Getting silly with those phrases

I assume you followed the butterfly link. If so you will understand this silliness... if not, well........

To Interest a Butterfly

The childish and the old alike 
may crave to consider a butterfly’s flight

Its very little lifespan among ceiling flowers,
the water and nectar, the light it devours

Cool types of gardens won’t offer such fun
as it finds in the chubby weight of the sun

With fanfare and flourish, these tiny insects
are drawn like a magnet to gorgeous effects
It loves sour fruit, it worships the heat
Does it make brains to pollute where they eat?

Whatever you cultivate, keep slightly wild
for the joy of a butterfly or delight of a child

What language is this???

I have been searching the internet for inspiration for garden poems and came on this article about gardening to attract butterflies. While there is good information the language is strange.... rather like someone fed it into an English translator. I especially love the phrases "magnetize butterflies", "brightly painted plants", "crave to consider", "ceiling flowers" and "the chubby weight of the sun."

I'd Like to Be There at Sunset

Glass Garden posted the art piece "Gardens of Glass" created from images taken in Phoenix a few years ago. 
This link will give you background on the glass artist Dale Chihuly whose work was exhibited there in the botanical gardens.

Glass Gardens
Jewel branches
ice rose, cold blue, rainbow ribbons
Chihuly’s blown flowers,
moving rivers,
iridescent spheres
It’s simply artful
in the sleepy desert sun
There among green-gray
spikes on yucca,
the perfect glass trail 
winds through pebbled paths
Always dry,the landscape 
dreams of grass, fantasizes gardens
as cool as water
even in India-hot swelter
But sunset and moonfall,
darkness rising,
twinkle lights awaken like fireflies
to a collective gasp of wonder
It’s poetry for free

Friday, July 02, 2010

Reflection of Suspension Bridge


Flare off the sidewalk one day:
walk on forbidden grass,
risk your eggshell-tender toes
on rocks like colored glass

reflect on soil and compost,
stare in nature's gritty face
Look keenly at its darkness
to comprehend life's grace

isn't all daffodilly sweetness
but brown earthworms in the loam
tunneling with sure purpose
where rootlings make their home

A miracle of ugly:
wigglers fit for fishers' pails,
you'd never see without first
getting dirt under your nails

Challenge laughter's brittle edge,
press its border further south
Trumpet deeply from your gut
without covering your mouth

Toss head back like the flowers
and while kneeling at their feet
consider what's above

Morning in my Garden

In the gentle light of morning
I wade through dew-wet grasses

dragging rake and trowel and clippers
over footstep-flattened passes

Across the frontier of my yard
I daringly pioneer forth,

scout out legions of garden pests
invading roses from the north

I forget awhile those challenges
that make me doubt my worth,

I kneel down on the rock hard ground,
change horizons with spades of earth

Undefeated by foes of weeds
where there is no strength to prove,

I bring to fruition some small dreams
and move the little mountains I can move


Summer brings thoughts of gardening.
I used to love working in the yard. As time goes by I love it less and less, detest the heat, the humidity; and my back and knees have rebelled. Still, I have a wealth of garden poems. I thought it might be fun to post a few...all old ones...and then see if I can come up with a new take on the old theme. Old ones to follow, then we'll see. :)

Garden of Glass