Poem: There are five poets in my garden
June 11, 2026
There are five poets in my garden
— and they think that they are bulbs.
But the first one smells carcinogenic,
and he is clothed in ancient brown,
as if he stole the mud-flecked jumper
from the very body of a bog-man.
The second is talking about
the fervid dangers of Pokémon,
and how in her day, they looked
for birds, and birds were quite enough.
She has a collection of empty eggs,
pilfered in her day, which lie
in an ancient purloined nest —
a weird eunuch’s severed balls,
placed in a stolen cup of misery.
Number three is being thoughtful.
He never utters a sentence without
a French philosopher’s name —
like a pigeon (of stolen eggs) he says
Bourdieu, Bourdieu, and oui, he bores me.
Number four is addicted to rhyme.
He knows he is somewhat out of time,
but like a tune you know too well,
he is married to the villanelle.
And the fifth? She plants sarcasm
in a weedy succulent garden,
where such thin green tongues
poke like wee prickly dragons.
She’s fully awesome, and awfully sweet.
PS Cottier
I have posted this one before, but I had a sudden urge for poet gardening, before the World Cup takes over.
Tuesday poem: If I could
September 20, 2021
If I could I would infiltrate this page with seeds, which would sprout as you read down the few lines, and leave you with a bush which you would plant out and wait for the blessings of birds. PS Cottier
Tuesday Poem: The Cootamundra Wattle
May 15, 2017
This one is via a link to the Royal Botanic Gardens, Sydney, site. If you scroll right down the page you will find a free PDF anthology to download, full of excellent poems about plants. The anthology is called New Shoots, and was created by Red Room Poetry, Rochford Street Review, and the Royal Botanic Gardens, Sydney.
My poem, at page 50, is called ‘The Cootamundra Wattle’, and here’s a somewhat coy looking poet peeping out from behind a wattle last year. The anthology is really worth a look, and hopefully, a printed copy will also appear at a later date.
PS Cottier 