General Poetry posted May 3, 2016


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A man struggles alone on a Moor

The Oasis

by Eric1

Upon the moor he lived alone
In a bleak and desolate place,
No radio, no telephone;
Of other life, there was no trace.

His gait was poor, his back was bent,
Arthritic hands were gloved,
His face showed all the winters spent,
Tending the plants he dearly loved.

For on that moor so bleak, so bare,
An Oasis in a barren place,
A piece of land twelve meters square--
A lovely garden filled with grace.

Through tiled Lych gate down gravelled path,
Toward the fountain spurting high,
Past moss-encrusted stone birdbath,
The beauteous garden draws a sigh.

Snapdragons grown for bride's bouquets.
Frilled zinnias and marsh marigold
Reminded him of happier days--
Times when he had a hand to hold.

White Hollyhocks swayed in the breeze,
To tempt the bees and butterflies;
The pansies lay beneath with ease,
While clematis head for the skies.

The lofty blue delphinium
Poked out among the pale green shrubs
Next to the violet allium,
Close by the pinks planted in tubs.

The daisy-like mauve coneflower
Beside the hardy lime green spurge;
The black eyed Susan's yellow power
Behind the rope-edged garden verge.

Surrounded by bright yellow gorse,
He lived in grief deeply profound,
Yet in his sadness -, knew, of course,
God's sacred hand had blessed this ground.

For -, in one corner of this place,
He'd buried her ten years ago,
When fever took life from her face--
She now lies where red roses grow.


Poem of the Month contest entry

Recognized


All the above flowers are Cottage garden varieties.

Picture courtesy of google image.

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