Patricia Gale


Gardner's Plea


The smell of fresh tilled earth
brought the robins back with spring
Only feet away, happy lucky feather friends

The catch of the day
Poor Willie worm
Delicacies for lunch

Make a deal with the sun
Hang around and warm the ground
And you and I shall seed the earth

Flowers from child hood memories
Three generations passed down
From one plant eighty years ago to last year

Fresh vegetables cared for like babies in the house
Grown from seeds
Nurtured with love

Spring, I bid thee stay
Bring the sun and the fun
Winter go far, far away

Submitted: Sunday, April 15, 2007
Edited: Tuesday, February 15, 2011

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Comments about this poem (Gardner's Plea by Patricia Gale )

  • Rookie Elysabeth Faslund (6/24/2007 9:26:00 AM)

    Isn't it exciting and fulfilling to watch those little seeds spring up? I feel like a protective lioness with her cubs! The best of all, is being able to cook and serve things you've nutured, then picked carefully. Oh yeah, wasn't thinking about the tomatoes right outside the window, until I read this. Great, simple, delightful read!
    Thanks for this one! xxElysabeth (Report) Reply

  • Rookie Duncan Wyllie (4/27/2007 12:54:00 PM)

    What a great angle on this one, summer shining through taking away the coldness of winters touch, lovely expression Patricia
    Hope all is well with you and your closest
    Love duncan X (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 145 Points Nimal Dunuhinga (4/27/2007 11:57:00 AM)

    I admire your usual simplicity. (Report) Reply

  • Rookie Esther Leclerc (4/27/2007 8:11:00 AM)

    Childlike in the simple joy of a season and its beauty and bounty, I'm with you, P.! Thank you for expressing this happiness so well. (I hope to have a garden this time next year!) Esther : ] (Report) Reply

  • Rookie Michael Gale (4/23/2007 4:02:00 PM)

    A great tenner of a poem.
    Can you imagine being under the assaulted air delivered bombings of those Jolly Green Gardner's seeds hitting thee upon yon yonder head...
    That t'would make ye sadder dead.

    Bombs away that very bad day...
    Not a time of work, but a day of play.

    Water melon seeds hit thee hard...
    No more face left or even a head left, all squished soft and no longer hard.

    What happened to thee 'pard? ...
    Was yee hit too hard? , no
    longer a living joy of laughter, no
    longer a card.

    Death will be your only dealt or accepted long restful sleeping bard...
    You'll leave this earthly life from a head ached jarred.

    God bless all poets-MJG. (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 129 Points Theodora Onken (4/18/2007 1:06:00 AM)

    Yes, Patricia, i think it is time for The Spring...our plants and little other fellas'have been fooled long enough! it is not nive for The weather to fool Mother Nature and it breaks my heart1
    Blessings, Theo (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 3 Points Tranquil Ocean (4/16/2007 1:04:00 AM)

    What a simple and lovely poem.I love your style of writing
    TO (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 15 Points Rajaram Ramachandran (4/15/2007 8:03:00 PM)

    One is tired of the biting winter and welcomes the beautiful spring-The poem speaks well of this theme. (Report) Reply

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