A place for growth

[The poly tunnel poet]

Everyone belongs somewhere
and knowing this, I search my place
where I might safely germinate.
I seek a home before I face
my judgement day. While pondering
my many fates I cleanse my ducts
which purges me, by my own choice
and not because on high instructs.

Lord knows the place awaiting me
where I might share and not upset
the fields of mono cultured growth,
and though I haven't found it yet
this polycultur'd field exists.
I did not think in adult life
such cliquey places govern'd us
with words as sharp as any knife.

But sadly oh so sadly I
was wrong about those verbal blades
and how they fester inside souls.
As sad to see as fly-tip'd glades
they curse upon the inward eye
and bury deep into a head,
but worse still all you post is seen
to kill the flowing of a thread...

My garden gives me peace of soul
and breezes draw the septic out.
In nature I am part the whole.
The cutting bramble all about
we still consider has a place.
and nettles serving butterflies
are beautiful in their own space.

So as I write this piece today
with hope of resting myself down
in safety from those cruel sorts
adept with adjective and noun.
I hope to truly be a part,
and feel my night school course no waste.
For life like home grown fruit and veg
is very much for all to taste


Tptp

[The poly tunnel poet]

I feel a re-run might be right, as I read through some posts today


trying to find a place to fit.....

[The poly tunnel poet]

Once before, and now again

"Don't go let's stay" appeal'd my heart
but my mind shouted, "we must part
and be away to somewhere new"
I see out there a me in you.
I left I did away to find
a place of people warm and kind
alas I still seek such a place
where I may not be chased or chase.

A place of equal unique-ness
of carrot-sperts, galanthophiles
and rows and rows of happiness
and for sad souls some rows of smiles
how can this be so hard to find
upon this net of world-wide-ness
have we become so blindly blind
that we've forgotten happiness.

Like those surviving war show'd me
when in my tatter'd clothes I play'd
while they in flabby flesh did see
new shoots in sun where last lay lay'd
by death, old hopes. If you're the sort
to grow to feed then feed the crew
not pick on people as a sport
but help feed Johnson's new found few

It then occur'd to me that I
should not keep looking but stay put
and not keep silent but least try
to change myself, and so I've shut
the darkness up by facing it.
This eden we are growing in
so full of snakes we'll all be bit.
But least if trying I might win.

And you might too, and might then they?
What's there to lose, If we just try,
If you're unhappy change your way
and others like you may try fly.
To be a hugger in these times
of social distancing is hard.
It's almost like a man of rhymes,
accepting he's an unheard bard.....


There are worse places than the hotel c