Poems by Anne Knight
The Family Garden of Love
Cerestial bells by the wall wave
Lupin nearly finished
Gunn struggling -
Blue flowers climbing
Dahlias waiting to grow tall
In a pot sweet peas grew up their canes
Baskets on the wall come into flower.
The hanging basket sways to and fro
The fuchsia dances shows their colours
Geranium nods back and to
Bag of garden rubbish hangs on the bar
Wallflowers of yellow sway nodding too.
Implants sit quite in their pots of pink
Angelica now tired, ready to drop
Whilst pink Rosie waits for the sun.
Tradescantia shows it blue flowers
I turn to look up the garden, the red poppy
gives last stand now small than other flowers.
Butterflies moths fly from flower to flower
Anniversary rose of pink hangs her heads sways gently.
The mauve flowers tall sways, leans in the wind.
Lilac hebe starts to show her colours
Leaping salmon has not flowered yet waves gently
Whilst yellow cousins hangs her bells.
Insects lands on my paper, perhaps to rest
White hebes tries hard to flower, as
Marigolds droop their heads.
Green hebes change colour, as year go by
Insects have flown after rest.
White and purple butterfly lavender stay still waiting for bees.
Heather change colour to summer green
Whilst wallflowers yellow bronze red say I’m here
The cloths swing round like a maypole dance.
The new marguerite of white and blue stand on a slate shelf with a
Flower of red.
The strawberries grow in the long trough with begonia of red plus,
yellow crescent.
Roses are yellow and pink they hang their heads over the wall gently
moving.
A green pot large one stands, upside down with slivers of brick on top.
It is waiting for a plant but not yet.
There’s the old dolly tub with water to wash the plant pots in,
also a large green water butt to feed the plants.
Mint drooping seems not well for it hangs down.
The garden is a rest place, also quietness to dream in to think nice
thoughts.
When you have been a gardener I was one, I have no greenhouse or
conservatory.
No tomato plants, no cabbage’s too or courgettes, for this is an old
garden an old town house garden for many years ago my grandparents.
Would sit perhaps talk and rest too.
This garden has an old path which I would remember.
This garden is my family.
by Anne Knight