Death Row
Posted: Tuesday, September 01, 2009
by David Pekrul
Now, before you start thinking that I'm writing another dark, deep poem about human tragedy, relax, I'm not. Well, I guess it is kind of tragic, at least for me. I'm writing about my skill as a gardener.
'Death Row'
I thought it would really be cool,
To dig in the dirt with both my hands,
And try out my new garden tools.I staked out a patch and made up a sign,
I called it My Garden Of Hope,
I loosened the soil and tilled the ground,
Then fenced it off with a rope.
I wanted my garden to thrive,
I watered each morning and hoped for the best,
But my plants were barely alive.
Not wanting to quit, admitting defeat,
I planted some tulips and snaps,
I weeded my garden and nourished the soil,
Then stopped for an afternoon nap.
I woke from a nightmare, soaked in sweat,
I dreamed that my garden had wilted,
My dream had come true; my flowers were dead,
I felt like a lover jilted.
I knew it was over and I couldn't win,
I laid down my rake and my hoe,
I took down the sign and hung up another,
Renaming my garden Death Row.
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E-Mail:dpekrul@gmail.com
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Top-level comments on this article: (2 total)Fun read - we live at 8600 feet with SHORT growing season....Tulips are easy, just fertilize them twice a year and they come back time after time - unless the deer are in the neighborhood - they haven't read the catelog which says deer don't eat them! MarijoThanks for your comment, Marijo.I can't blame my poor gardening on the deer, although we do have lots of deer around town, but they rarely come right through the neighbourhoods.
That made me laugh. I loved the wordplay. I stink at gardening too.
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