Odd, this staid woman
Who relished wild abandon
In nature only
Her ordered life calm,
While her garden ran amok
No rows, tangled vines
From pleasure abstained
Nary a drop of spirits
Her drunken plot raved
Wild Abandon
Odd, this staid woman
Who relished wild abandon
In nature only
Her ordered life calm,
While her garden ran amok
No rows, tangled vines
From pleasure abstained
Nary a drop of spirits
Her drunken plot raved
A trip through life with fingers crossed and eternal optimism.
Doing the best I can with what I have
kind of sad, but not so bad with cheese. cheese not provided.
My streams of thought meet here
Photographer based in Stockholm, Sweden
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Life in a flash - a bi-weekly storytelling blog
MARK PETRUSKA | WRITER
Short essays about novels and other fictional works
By Ian Garrabrant
Home of Micropoetry, Literature, art and philosophy.
Just a fiction writer, trying to reach the world.
Praying for Eyebrowz 
Nice – but a little bit sad
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Thank you. I stared thinking about this when I was writing about my Grandma Hall in my offering plate post. She maintained a glorious garden in the arid Texas panhandle. Her vegetables grew in rows, but her flowers ran amok. She was very constrained in daily life by her faith, but her flowers showed her wild side. Although, she also had the “gift” of speaking in tongues. A little drama in her church life, too.
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Thanks for this, Leslie
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That rotting chair in the fields is beautiful. Is that your pic, Leslie? It’s wonderful. – Marty
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No! I found those on Pinterest.
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I love this wild garden. And your lovely poem.
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Thank you from the bottom of my wild heart.
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