Gardens Of The Mind Poem by Mary Champion

There are rich fertile minds
where ideas can take root,
where intelligence finds
the conditions that suit.

There are stiff, formal minds
made from regular beds
full of thoughts in straight lines
loved by logical heads.

There are overgrown minds -
wild, disordered, unkempt,
that have got no design -
their potential undreamt.

Bright and flowering minds
produce fresh food for thought.
It is there you will find
the great insights are wrought.

Quaint traditional minds,
each a progress-free zone,
they all dawdle behind,
yet have charms of their own.

 
There are free-market minds,
those whose specialist field,
is intensely defined
just to maximise yield,

Here and there, hanging minds
that can never select,
from the choices they find,
what to plant or reject.

Egoistic, pleasure minds,
that live only for thrills,
never see warning signs,
have no husbandry skills.

Let us make up our minds,
be they private or show,
that, however defined,
we allow them to grow.