Three Poems

Garden Club

Outside it’s snowing wetly
A woman sits in a maroon chair
With a stripey calm design in it
I see her from above

Numerous ladies hum practical,
Practical hymns
Getting loaf-cake in the kitchen
Filling up the chairs
A huge grey cat with one ear flagged down
Performs his shin-sniffing

A person might rather be otherwhere
A person might object to name-tags
A person likes the fire in the grate

A person might adhere to the notion
That there is nothing to be done

Now we will learn about roses
The jokey speaker’s short as a dentist
The fire explodes at intervals

A lady with long hair all trailing
Sits in a maroon chair
Her heart reaches about softly
Hesitant for insufficient reception
Surrounded by rose-lovers
Wrinkled of petal,
Full of verve

Though the lady finds she grudges
To dignify this as a garden

This lady has a casual,
Somewhat worried relationship
With four rose bushes
In a clayey bed
But here and now is this humming foreign gatheration

Somebody has to watch
The as-is conundrum
Somebody has to hear
The flowing resonant gardener
As tone, not just the names
Of roses
Somebody has to record
The hefty cat galloping through the room

11th Feb., 09, Weston