Garden Poem by Rich Harney

It seems the purple in the garden
Whispered - just to loud,
I heard a tale, not meant for ears
murmur under lips of cloud.

The tale was meant for eggplant
And such soldier vegetation
As row by row and gathering
A fainting congregation.

Another tale might be a botch
but this had under worms,
Exciting cabbage pillow talk,
And charge the sunflower squirm!

It seems that under dirt, in lairs,
the spindle nematodes
had secrets hid from whom's upstairs
and plotting darker modes.

We'll eat the legs of turnip greens,
And ravage eyes of dill,
Shouted generals of nemertine,
and cores of platyhelminth.

So up and up the cabbage loopers
Tickled cauliflower,
But humor wasn't coterie
In that particular hour.


Diamondbacks and Hickory Horns
Deviled on the way,
Until a craft of large intel
had something large at play.

A naughty nuisance nylon
was spoiling all the fun,
A ruined galere of annelids
were radishly undone!