(01/01/1966 / BIRMINGHAM)

A Conversation Over The Garden Fence

Two old men talked about the past
As they leaned upon the slatted wooden fence
That creaked under the weight of their forearms.
One side was painted white
The other painted black
And there they met to reminisce
On those days now long gone by.
There gardens weren't alike at all
For one was tended mowed and pruned
Where flowers grew and colours bloomed
With everything in place.
While the other was wild and overgrown
With weeds that clung and squeezed the life
From all that tried to grow amidst
That tangled mass of green.
One man was smart and wore a tie
The other wore an open shirt,
With many missing buttons
And its sleeves were holed and torn.
I thought they were like chalk and cheese
But as I passed I heard them say,
They both felt sorry for the young
And glad that they were old.

Submitted: Thursday, March 26, 2009
Edited: Thursday, March 26, 2009

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Comments about this poem (A Conversation Over The Garden Fence by ANDREW BLAKEMORE )

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  • Sandra Fowler (4/9/2009 7:30:00 AM)

    So different and yet so much alike. Two old friends who have rapport
    in their souls. A wonderful poem, Andrew.10 without hesitation.

    Warm regards,

    Sandra (Report) Reply

  • Alison Cassidy (4/8/2009 3:24:00 AM)

    A fascinating exploration of difference - and similarity. I like the change in your poetic style, Andrew. You are growing in stature as a poet. Love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ (Report) Reply

  • Duncan Wyllie (3/26/2009 3:13:00 PM)

    Wow! ! ! such powerful few last lines and I loved the way that this was so carefully constructed
    I have a lot of respect for you Andrew and it is works such as this that make me even
    more convinced that you have a beautiful art

    Love duncan X (Report) Reply

  • Ernestine Northover (3/26/2009 3:12:00 PM)

    I think when one gets to a certain age one can converse with anyone, and when they are of roughly the same age there is plenty to talk about, plenty to moan about, plenty to discuss. Loved this composition. I love everyday occurrences, they are alive with wonderful storylines.
    Love and hugs Ernestine XXX (Report) Reply

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