SEE THE POPPIES WILTING
My Caravan
I have a little caravan,
Like me, it‘s not so new.
It’s kind of cramped and small,
Oh! And there’s a broken window too.
I put lots of my special things around,
To make it feel like home.
It makes me really happy,
To see how fond of it I’’ve grown.
Now, it’s not your five star resort,
Or your mansion by the sea.
But this little caravan,
Is home sweet home to me.
© Poem by Helen Gardener
My friend and neighbour
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Tenderly
In the park today, I watched
An old couple on a seat.
I watched, as he tenderly
Helped her to her feet.
She linked her arm in his
As they slowly strolled along.
Him to her, her to him
To each other they belong.
They stopped at the end of the street,
And she pushed back his windswept hair.
He gently touched his fingers to her cheek,
With tender loving care.
What a great love this must be
To last for an eternity,
I hoped, as I watched them move away
If this could happen to me.
Helen Gardener ©
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Dreams
Do you dream of far away places
When you close your eyes to sleep,
Does the vision of familiar faces
Make you want to weep.
Do you miss your family and friends
Now that you have moved away.
Do your dreams of your loved ones
Help you through the day.
New places, new faces in your life
When you have the urge to roam
But you know when you sleep tonight
You can dream your way back home.
Helen Gardener ©
Imagine
Imagine a world without sunlight
Where the clouds wont let it shine through
Imagine a world without moonlight
Then imagine my world without you.
Imagine a world without laughter
A world that is all sad and blue
Imagine a world without music
Imagine my world without you.
Imagine a world without children
Where everything’s old, nothing new
I’ve imagined a whole lifetime of tears
But I cant imagine my world without you.
Helen Gardener ©
Dixie Lee
You lie in the sun, my lovely girl
And the warmth carries you away.
To a sleep that comes from deeper places
And seems to make your day.
Now your coat is covered in dust
The spot you lie in is just soil
But this spot makes you happy
And that I would not spoil.
So I brush your coat, my lovely
And you give me a big wet kiss
It’s just a bit of dirt between friends
And these moments I wouldn’t miss.
Helen Gardener ©
Telling Me Innocence
And purely without shadow
precisely and vividly Vera, in veritas,
adorns the Opera House, the Harbour Bridge,
Capricorn scenes and horoscope star signs, and more.
She marvels my seeing, unmasks my adulthood,
my ageing years and returns to me, undimmed,
the eyes of childhood till I am as if fairy tale enchanted
by Australia’s places, given over to this art designated naïve.
Joie de vivre radiates from her years’ works prolific
for this artist has ranged far and wide within canvasses,
greeting cards, even a postage stamp design as she embraces
flora and fauna, the sea’s fishes, the land peopled and blossomed.
Sometimes I surely see the touch of Pre-Raphaelite clarity
as grasses, leaves, feathers are detailed, made exquisitely real
yet so much is painted as if dreamt, drawn into the present purely
by the heart’s eye encompassing a world recovered in innocence
and without shadow, solely the smile shines, sunshines indelible
Paricia Rayner
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WINTER
I watch frangipani’s grief:
in bare branched silhouette
she drops a last decaying leaf
to rot at winter’s feet.
Against
tropic winter’s high blue skies
the filagrees
of bare smooth branches rise
but hide no timid bird,
and have no velvet flowers,
no languid scent
to tempt the frantic bees,
so frangipani grieves.
I know
when winter is half gone
her sap will surge,
a thousand new leaves will be born,
and on frangipani’s dress
a mass of fragrant blossoms
where honey bees caress,
while I still grieve
with winter’s fallen leaves.
Jean Renew
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