A Particular Potted Plant - Poem by Pete Crowther
Slow in growth but rather rare
Year on year it’s never altered
Candle shaped and coloured grey,
What a boring plant it is!
Always measuring just two inches
Never mind my loving care
Watering, feeding, heat in winter,
Nothing ever makes it budge.
Other cacti burgeon, flourish
Trichocaulon stays the same—
Or it did, until today!
Scarcely could I credit it
First to see a little offset
Candle shaped and coloured grey
Then, by Jove, there was a flower
Quite two millimetres wide.
Quick! Indoors and get the camera,
Tell the neighbours, phone the press
Has produced a miracle.
Never now shall I complain,
All my work was not in vain
Nor will you hear me any more
Calling Trichocaulon boring.
* pronounced ‘cac-ti-for-may’.
Comments about A Particular Potted Plant by Pete Crowther
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye