Monday
Wind paunches the belly
of a wifebeater while
blue-black denims drip.
The kitchen drain belches suds
and she ponders ironing
white collars.
Tag: poem
poetry, plants and poison
Other than the gourd patch down in the orchard, one of the few bright spots in the garden at the moment is the uncontrollable oleander outside my study window. 
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melon yellow
Each morning, I dutifully water the patch of ornamental gourds I planted in an attempt to cover some of the chain link fence between us and the neighbours. And each day I am amazed at the size and colour of the flowers.
Since the flowers first appeared a couple of weeks ago, a line of poetry has been running through my head. I’m not sure whether it’s triggered by the suspicion that gourds and melons must be related, by the brightness of the flowers or by the similarity of the sounds of gourd and gaudy…
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more bugs
Yesterday I gathered together some pictures of bugs that have appeared on the blog over the years. Today, along with a new photo of a recent unidentifed visitor to the house, I thought I’d gather together a few of the fragments of poetry that I’ve posted here on the same broad subject.
It was probably clear when I wrote about one of my very early poems that I’ve been writing about creepy crawlies pretty much since I was old enough to write. However, since I was brought up in the UK, the bugs weren’t as exotic as those featured in yesterday’s picture gallery.
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summary
Yesterday, I wrote 229 words under the title summery II. Much of that post has been condensed into the following 14 words. Which is why this is titled summary.
Through the long hours
of the longest days,
the linden hums
with honeyed promises
don't confuse the narrator 