Patchwork Herbology

At behest of the man who's drowned in the moat;

he thought well of leaves that could keep him afloat.

So gardeners worked to supplant and suffice

in pale, sullen light that was straining their eyes,

and were able to clot the freshwater vein

with acrid greens that splayed like a lion's mane.


The caretaker's jest came sudden and flowing:

these foreign shrubs had a fierce way of growing,

and control was waning and not to be had

by the fearfullest man who couldn't be glad.

So brought the trimmers and the matches and lo,

down came the patchwork garden we'd come to know.


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nightlight1220's picture

Nice poem! Oh...but then I

Nice poem! Oh...but then I looked at the tags.... oh no. I'm not the one. Never did smoke that stuff. I'm crazy enough without


...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."

"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "