Love in the Time of Corona

I have just read my last blog, written over a year ago. I had intended to finish the story, including the effects of the chemotherapy and my eventual recovery. Maybe one day. In the meantime, I’ve also had a hip replacement just before everything shut down in WA and I was isolated for two months – Covid 19, plus not being able to drive until my new hip healed.

I expected to do lots of creative writing in that time, but my Muse went on strike. I was told by other creatives in the family that they had the same problem. Artists and writers enjoy the silence of their own space, but it seems we also crave human interaction.

Once the worst was over, for us in WA, I started writing again, initially inspired by that isolation. My partner and I couldn’t get together for several months. This was my response, written for a poetry competition with ‘Love’ as the theme.

LOVE IN THE TIME OF CORONA

Now I wake to an empty space beside me

to the absence of your smile

your eyes alight with love

the gentle caress of your hand

on my thigh, my breast

the touch of your lips on mine.

I miss your greeting,

‘Good morning my darling

I love you my darling.’

Will I ever hear your voice again

so close beside me,

and know that for you

I am the most beautiful

most treasured woman in the world?

Friends In My Garden: Camellia and Pansy

I recently went to Queensland (see my previous post) to escape the cold weather here in the hills out of Perth in Western Australia. Now that I have returned it is such a delight to open my curtains on these winter mornings and, despite the rain and cold, or maybe because of them, to be greeted by these beauties.

For those of you who enjoy my poetry, I’ve taken the words from my collection, Friends In My Garden, and matched them with these photos.

All of the poems are about real friends or family, depicted as things found in my garden, so, Camellia and Pansy were written for people who have been, (some still are) important in my life. Pansy is now twenty five but this was written when she was two.

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Autumn: A Time To Gather and Prepare

Gone the heat of summer days

and fear of fires raging in the hills.

Autumn is my favourite time of year,

a time to gather firewood, to stack the heaps

against the wall of my verandah.

A time for clearing out the wardrobe –

Sew a button on that coat, polish boots and

hope my last year’s trousers haven’t shrunk.

With warmer clothes come fluffy slippers,

electric blankets, water bottles, an extra doona on the bed.

We check our home heating – electric, gas

or good old-fashioned fire.

We clear the gutters, store away the barbecue

and summer’s other chattels.

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Autumn and Liquid Amber

Crepe Myrtle

Autumn is my favourite time of the year in the Perth hills. Morning air is crisp and dew is often present on the well established plants in my garden. In the last two years I’ve added a few trees for the colour of their leaves, when the summer flowers have finished. This Crepe Myrtle is only a year old, but already it brightens the little court yard, giving me a lift when I open the curtains each morning.

Chinese Tallow

My Chinese Tallow will eventually grow tall, but already it glows in the setting sun as the leaves slowly turn from green to this amazing red.

Then there’s my Liquid Amber. I have grown one of these in each of my gardens over the years, but the cooler nights up here have made this specimen the most stunning of all. A few years ago, when compiling my poetry collection, ‘Friends In My Garden,’ I wrote this poem for a friend who was an excellent clothing designer, creating gowns for weddings and balls.

I hope you like it and as always, please share it with your clever designing friends.

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Wordsworth’s Cottage and a Monster Storm

Dove Cottage

We had planned for our last day in Ambleside, to visit Dove Cottage and the Wordsworth Museum, Ruskin’s house at Coniston and generally enjoy driving around the picturesque countryside.

Mary Mary Quite Contrary (our name for the GPS system that came with the hired car) behaved quite well; only one little detour and we were parking beside the cafe attached to William Wordsworth’s former home.

With tickets in hand we soon joined the merry group of Wordsworth admirers for the tour of Dove Cottage where he lived with his sister Dorothy (who seems to have done much of the work around the place while His Nibs swanned about, creating his poems.)

We began in a small room on the ground floor where Wordsworth received his guests. Coleridge was a regular and, from what I’ve read of Dorothy’s diary, he stayed with them often.

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Busy Bee and Evocative

I receive heart-warming responses from some of you for my poetry, so here are a couple more. I may have posted ‘Evocative’ before; please forgive me if that’s so. It’s one of my favourite poems and one that I hope you will all enjoy. Please let me know if my images stir your memory.

If you’re not a ‘Busy Bee’ yourself (I’m certainly not one these days) I’m sure you will recognise a friend who is, in this poem. Please pass it on to them with love and appreciation; where would we be without them?

BUSY BEE

She buzzes about

ever so busy

my busy bee

darting from daisies

to dahlias and dianthus

dusting them all

with pernicketiness.

Collecting pollen

and flicking it in flowers,

where would my garden be

without her?

EVOCATIVE

Sweaty armpits, old gym shoes,

potatoes rotting in a cupboard,

dirty nappies, pig manure,

a drunk, lolling in his vomit.

Burning tyres, gutted homes,

flames roaring through the bush.

Fried onions, vanilla beans,

bacon and toast and percolating coffee.

Leather seats in a new car,

rain on parched earth,

a baby, fresh from the bath.

Eucalypt leaves on a wet day in London.

Yardley perfume that granny used,

sweet peas, picked from a garden.

Old spice after-shave,

the coat you always wore.

Friends In My Garden: Banished Rhus, A Pair of Doves

Today I intended to write about our cruise around Lake Windermere. Unfortunately I’m using a different computer and the photos won’t show up as I want them to. Instead I will share more of my poems from my book, ‘Friends In My Garden’ and hope that you like them .

I wrote these poems for friends and family, depicting each one as something found in a garden. ‘Banished Rhus’, as the name implies, was one person who I thought was my friend but, while staying at her home for a few days I realised that she was actually not a friend at all. If you have been badly hurt by someone who you believed to be your friend, I’m sure you will relate to this poem. You might even want to pass it on to her or him, although I never did. Banishing her from my garden of friends seemed the best tactic.

The second poem was written for a couple who visited Australia each year from their home in England. Sadly, he has since passed away, but for all of you who are in happy relationships, or who have benefited from a loving marriage or partnership in your life, I hope you enjoy this. You might even want to share it with your loved one.

As always, I’d love to read your comments which you can write in the ‘comment’ box at the bottom of the page.

Banished Rhus

I had a rhus tree

with leaves that were brilliant

enticing

inviting

admired from a distance.

I stepped too close

she attacked

spewing poison from her leaves

and dripping fiery sap.

Instant

was my reaction.

Even now the pain recurs

the rash appears

on tissue scar

when I recall

the venom of her wrath.

She’s gone of course

rooted out

and if ever I see her again

I’ll take care

to keep my distance

from false vindictive rhus.

A Pair Of Doves

Two white doves

return every year.

I love to hear their cooing

a gentle sound that soothes the soul.

While he’s out during the day

she tidies and titivates the nest

chats with other birds

gathers garden goodies for tea

then fluffs out her feathers to look her best

when he returns.

They share a meal

and snuggle down for the night.

Ripples of kindness float across the darkness

encompassing me.

Friends in my Garden: Daisy, Coriander and Free Spirit

This past week I’ve been thinking about friends and family. How some people stay with us all our lives, but others, no matter how much we care about them, move on and we loose contact with them.

When I wrote and published Friends in my Garden, the people in these poems were some of the friends I saw often enough that we could easily slot back into that relationship where the months and years don’t matter. Sadly, I have lost touch completely with Coriander and Free Spirit. Daisy is still around, somewhere, but I haven’t seen her for too long.

If you know where they are, I’d love to receive a message, perhaps a comment at the end of this posting.

When any of my poems apply to a friend or family member of yours, please feel free to pass them on. Friends in my Garden is meant for all of you who read my words and the poems are for you to share with your garden of friends.

DAISY

She is my daisy

with face always smiling

and petals of pink or yellow or blue

popping up

wherever I need

a splash of colour

and warmth and fun,

I know she’ll be there

to cheer my heart

and nurture my soul.

CORIANDER

Coriander reigns in my herb patch.

He’s quiet and a trifle contrary

tends to disappear when confronted.

Dreaming up dishes

tempting and delicious

his feathery appearance

adds a touch of artistry.

Friends regard him as

a culinary wonder.

FREE SPIRIT

Chirping, laughing

smile bubbles bursting

in she flies

a flurry of welcome

her visit a sparkling surprise,

tales of the past are recounted

and fantasy flights foretold.

Autumn leaves tumble

She’ll soon fly away

conquering oceans

and capturing hearts

for her spirit is joyous and free.

Friends In My Garden: Hyacinth and Peony

Life has been hectic for the last few weeks, hence my lack of postings on this site. I am keen to return to the travel tales from England but for today, I hope to please those of you who enjoy my poems, especially those from my first book, ‘Friends In My Garden.’

Hyacinth was written for a friend who lost her daughter in tragic circumstances. It was the kind of situation from which a mother would never totally recover but this lady was/is always graceful and composed. Whenever I read this poem I think of her with love and admiration.

If you know someone who bravely bares a tragic loss, you might like to share this poem with them.

HYACINTH

Hyacinth is a fragile flower

sometimes seeming aloof

in her need for seclusion.

The colours of her petals change

from purple on the sad days

to whitely unobtrusive

when she’s hiding from the world

or palest blue

in times of her remembering.

For the memory and the loss

will always remain

despite her efforts to hide the pain.

The image she presents

of calmness and restraint

is it a facade?

I think I hear her crying

in the emptiness of night

when she’s alone with her sorrow.

She’s determined to not falter

but I should remember

to tend more often

and with more care

my saddened, delicate hyacinth.

Peony was written for another brave lady. Sadly she didn’t manage to overcome cancer, but she always looked elegant and despite her condition, she was determined to live life to the full. I only really had one meeting with her but was so impressed that I sat down as soon as she left and composed this poem in her honour.

‘Friends In My Garden’ was published in 1995. Sadly, my Peony died about a year later, but I still think of her. It’s a sad poem, but I wanted to express my admiration for her determination and for the joy she radiated, despite the suffering she must have endured. I hope that my words give comfort and encouragement to others who are facing serious illness.

PEONY

This morning there appeared

a flower I’ve not seen before,

a peony.

The climate here is harsh

for so delicate a plant

but to see her blooming

you’d not be aware

of her struggle for survival.

Elated,

blossoms in profusion,

the image she presents.

I know she lost her petals

felt her trunk grow weak

but sun gave her warmth

rain fell softly on her leaves

the one who cares

for flowers and trees

nourished her with love

and hence

today

she came to grace my garden.

Friends In My Garden: Butterfly and Magnolia

Today I’m in the mood for poetry so I’ve gone to my book, Friends In My Garden for a selection. Two very different characters, but both written for women who inspired me and brought joy into my life.

Butterfly is the sort of friend who pops in with chocolates and champagne when you’re feeling down. Her smile and her laughter brighten any space when she appears. I hope you have several butterflies in your friendship garden and I’d love you to share my words with them.

BUTTERFLY

There’s a butterfly

happiness yellow

in my friendship garden.

A ray of sunshine

spreading warmth whenever she appears

always bubbling full of fun and laughter

that bounces

grows.

I love her sparkle

her cheek

her zing.

When friends are down

in she whirls

a glow of yellow

to brighten our hearts.

Magnolia was written for the sort of woman who rises to the top in her field. She’s a leader who others want to follow. Please send this to the Magnolias in your friendship garden.

MAGNOLIA

Magnolia has an air of grandeur.

She’s courageous

and tenacious

with a heart as soft as moss.

Occasional bouts of jealousy

are sparked by lesser plants

weeds that endeavour to starve

or choke this lovely tree.

In stately manner

she disdains their poisonous pettiness.

Others are inspired by her,

the elegant stance

the leaves

rich and glossy

the brilliance of her flowers

creamy white

and luscious.

I think she’s quite magnificent.