Next Door

Next door cultivates perfection –
gardens pert with flowery blooms
like vibrant little soldiers heeding
the command of love’s labour,
shimmering with prideful confidence

My garden is overgrown vines,
chaos’ shameful exhibition,
bemoans the futility of planting,
knows there will be no follow through,
betrays the absence of love’s toil.

Life has schooled detachment
lessons in loss counsel defensiveness –
better to guard hope than plant it…

How can next door be so reckless;
do they not know this all for naught?

(This a rewrite of former poem also titled Next Door. Image my own.)

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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

39 thoughts on “Next Door”

  1. I love your audio! What a beautiful poem. I know this feeling of comparison and “better to guard hope than plant it” when there will be “no follow through” without the energy!! I resonate with your words.

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  2. Most of my neighbours prefer the manicured lawn. They employ gardeners to cut and spray. Really such a waste of money but it reflects the lifestyles that leave so little time for leisure. We are now enjoying daffodils, crocuses and snowdrops and I smile and think that I will not have to cut the grass for another months at least.

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  3. “Shimmering with prideful confidence I love this . I can see those little flowers. You words have painted such a clear picture of that overperfect garden. It has made my evening to read this.

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  4. I loved the sarcastic tone. Hard to find a healthy balance of optimism and pessimism these days. I’m going to have this poem running through my head when I’m out there in my garden this spring! lol

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    1. Glad you picked up on the sarcasm. I’m such a terrible gardener and I envy my neighbour’s beautiful efforts. Thanks.


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