The Garden Forlorn

I love poetry and writing and stories and books.  All of which have taken a bit of a backseat while I've been a mom.  Well, some cousins of Ben's happen to be like minded and they have fun doing random poetry on each others facebook status' and I started joining in and such FUN!~   Loving it!  They have also been encouraging my oldest who has gotten a FEW things from me :)  Photography gene, poetry writing, and love of books...the good ones like Anne of Green Gables and Jane Austen and is currently reading Les Miserables!  Ok, confession: I actually HAVEN'T read Les Mis yet but it's on my list and we DID discuss it in French class a :::cough::: few yrs ago! LOL!

I thought I'd share my favorite poem that I wrote.   Back story....this poem was for an assignment and as most of my writing assignents were, so last minute, and so much better that way!!  As in after-dinner-the-night-before-it-is-due last minute ;o)  And yes, I did get an A!  I came in the dining room where my parents, grandparents and uncle were all visiting and shared what I had just written to rave reviews, my uncle especially liked it. 

In order to generate more money, our year book began "ads" for the senior w/their picture and things like "Congratulations" or "We are so proud of you",  inspirational things, etc.  Some were brother/sister, some had baby pictures.  Well, my uncle really loved my poem, so my family shared space and did one all together and added my poem to it!  I guess I can say I have a published poem!  hahaha!  Anyway, enough about the poem....

 The Garden Forlorn

 

In weeds, lay the garden,
Forgotten and still,
Because of a world's
Faulty Ideal.

It used to be tended,
With love and care,
Saved from the weeds,
That now flourish there,

But alas, by and by,
The gardener's hand
Could no longer care
For the flowers grand.

The innocent young flowers
The weeds did covet.
The world rushed on by
And thought nothing of it.

"Someone else'll take care
Of them and kill the weeds,"
As they turned their backs,
The flowers did bleed.

So it is with Life,
(If we let it be).
We'll get nothing back
But weeds you see.

We can't make it alone,
I know a Friend,
Loving and caring,
He'll be to the end.

He can't be found
In worldly pleasures,
But once He is found,
In HIM you'll treasure.

So, don't heed the troubles
And cares of this world,
Or words of others
Unkindly hurled.

For if you do,
Your life'll be torn,
Overrun by "weeds"
Like the garden forlorn.

   ~Rebecca Ann Farrar (1988---I think ;o))

I need to write more poetry...I enjoy it and I miss writing!  I'm finding even the silly rhyming for fun a bit therapeutic!  Plus, at my age I need to do something to keep the little gray cells working (little Hercule Poirot there for my fellow bibliophiles).