There Is an Old Weed in my Garden


There is an old weed in my garden,
Stubborn where spade cannot strike.
Its roots go untilled by my trowel,
It's nature unsevered by knife.

The cold of winter does not calm it,
Nor flood sate its unending thirst.
The heat of the sun only teases

The forms and the lives strangled first.

No years of my fingertips searching,
Nor bite of my trustiest tool,
Can reach to the depths where it's hiding;
Unravel so tangled a spool.

There is an old weed in my garden.
But I find as days come, and moons go -
Its a fight that im glad to be losing.

Ain't a weed if you just let it grow.

  • Author: Quemis (Offline Offline)
  • Published: May 1st, 2022 09:57
  • Comment from author about the poem: ...
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 37
  • Users favorite of this poem: crypticbard, Doggerel Dave.


  • orchidee

    Good write Q. I didn't know I was in your garden! lol.

    • Quemis

      Thanks Orchidee!!!

      • jarcher54

        Orch, I was gonna say the same thing... (-:

      • jarcher54

        Your precise descriptions, almost technical language, and the short intense format of your lyrics remind me a bit of John Donne. A fine commentary on the weeds among us!

        • Quemis

          High praise!!

          Ask not for whom the bell tolls.
          For when it tolls, it tolls for weed!


        • orchidee

          I was the gardener in the garden! Or was I the weed?! lol.

          • Quemis

            You all are so kind.

            When I wrote this, I am the Gardner, and the garden, and the weed believe it or not.


          • Doggerel Dave

            I was out of action when you posted this. now gratefully found by accident.....

            Neat and also.

            • Quemis

              Thank you!

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