I watch as the days brightness alters
from sunrise, sunset, nightfall,
to when the moon and stars light up,
and I can see the Milky Way.
I watch the seasons change from
spring growth, to summer heat,
autumn leaves, winter rot with
rain, sun, wind, frost, and snow.
I study, ants, worms, slugs and snails.
Leaves, buds, trees and flowers;
bees, wasps, white bellied sunbirds,
and many butterflies stop for nectar.
But most of all as I sit in my garden,
I feel angry, sad, confused, when I think,
how man persecutes man, and stamps
him under foot to break his will.
How his power corrupts,
his laws cheat, and
his desires tempt him, to steal,
murder, rape, abuse and wound.
How his beliefs, ideas, and dogma’s;
separate, judge, blame, confuse,
causing hurt, harm, even wars, so
his love wasted, and his charity ignored.
How his belief might is right, allows
governmental avarice, politician’s spin,
and leaders lies to make wars, in which
thousands die, and millions come to hate.
How his miasma blocks out truth, hope
new optimism, a talk of peace,
freedom cries ignored, and answers given
shrouded with false reasons for not ending war.
Relaxing in my spring garden full of hope,
surrounded by lovely flowering shrubs,
I mostly hear the black crows cry but
have just one wish, that a red eyed dove brings
peace, commonsense, love, understanding,
and compassion to the people of our world.
You have chosen your garden with great aesthetics. It is a superb piece of poetry: Your garden is girdled up with universal spirituality That takes care of every triviality; It measures up the the Sun, the Moon, the Eart and the sky, Work in unison with plants, animals and the birds that fly. It is only man that sounds a discordant note Who generally sails on a staggering boat; In his own cobweb weaves the woes That always keep him on his toes.
Indeed a brilliant poem Bob, it seems Gods garden is getting overgrown with weeds, regards Bob
An excellent poem Bob, the contrast between your lovely peaceful garden full of the wonders of nature, and then man's inhumanity to man, and the question why? We hope for a future without war, hunger an poverty, lets hope it is not a distant dream, Best wishes Lynda xxxx
such a lovely poem. very niceand refreshing. i felt as if i was there. pl see my 3 new poems 1. a prayer for children 2. walk through life 3. what makes you so special
I often sit in my garden as well and pray that everyone in this world would just take the time to stop and smell the roses.... if they could appreciate the little things maybe then peace would be in the 'not too far' distance.... Nice poem - something I myself can relate to - the same questions seem to cross my mind on a daily basis.
dear bob, i am a garden lover too! forget everything when i am there.when we sit and relax, many thoughts make their way to our minds, which are disturbing and irritating, specially over those we have no control.politics, is a dirty game.too much power, irresponsibly used, has negative results.your poem is beautiful, a blend of natures beauty, and the reality of materialism.
Sat in my garden reading, feeling the gold of day then your mood changed, dark nights of the soul! Hero''s forgotten overnight, Our young people playing the deadly game politicians and leaders control. Can we believe that we will see friend greeting foe, I cannot. As the song goes it's all an illusion. Powerful write Bob
After taking me through the beauty of seasons, you gently take the reader to the ugliness with which man has polluted his life. all humanity is crying for good sense to prevail and peace reign...very thought provoking lovely and moving 10 mamta
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The soul of a concerned, thoughtful man comes through this fine poem of contrast. You point out splendidly how peaceful, beautiful places make us wonder why the rest of the world can't be more like a garden. As Wordsworth put it best: the world is too much with us/getting and spending, etc. Keep on feeling those angry feelings; it takes courage in these dark days to really care about things, but we have to keep awake. Keep writing.