Botanica

[Pilgrim]

Botanica

Oh, for a garden like the one
that lately graced our urban street;
where florabunda bloomed profuse
and finch and magpie chanced to meet.

Where citrus hung in golden globes
to cushion winter’s creeping chill,
and pansies beds assured the world
that spring would keep her promise still.

It’s said the man who owned it waned
from grieving for his lifelong mate;
and in his potting shed arranged
with rope his life to terminate.

They’re ripping up the garden now
to build a clutch of smart abodes
for business folk who can’t afford
to waste their time in useless modes.

So last weekend a neighbour brought
me floral tributes from the mall:
that panorama at the sink
and Monet’s garden in the hall.

[billy]

in places it quite sad. the potting shed a killer, i never noticed the rhymes so they worked, the meter was good, not perfect iambic but where it wasn't you made it fit well (does that make sense?) i couldn't work out why they brought you flowers from the mall, i'm guessing you used to get them from that garden, but i never saw the connect. really enjoyed the read and sorry for no line by, good to see ya back

Botanica

Oh, for a garden like the one
that lately graced our urban street;
where florabunda bloomed profuse
and finch and magpie chanced to meet.

Where citrus hung in golden globes
to cushion winter’s creeping chill,
and pansies beds assured the world pansies' beds (i think)
that spring would keep her promise still.

It’s said the man who owned it waned
from grieving for his lifelong mate;
and in his potting shed arranged
with rope his life to terminate.

They’re ripping up the garden now
to build a clutch of smart abodes
for business folk who can’t afford
to waste their time in useless modes.

So last weekend a neighbour brought
me floral tributes from the mall:
that panorama at the sink
and Monet’s garden in the hall. the last two lines (specially the last one) feel awkward, i get it, it works but i wonder if it could be better stated.

[Pilgrim]

in places it quite sad. the potting shed a killer, i never noticed the rhymes so they worked, the meter was good, not perfect iambic but where it wasn't you made it fit well (does that make sense?) i couldn't work out why they brought you flowers from the mall, i'm guessing you used to get them from that garden, but i never saw the connect. really enjoyed the read and sorry for no line by, good to see ya back

Botanica

Oh, for a garden like the one
that lately graced our urban street;
where florabunda bloomed profuse
and finch and magpie chanced to meet.

Where citrus hung in golden globes
to cushion winter’s creeping chill,
and pansies beds assured the world pansies' beds (i think)
that spring would keep her promise still.

It’s said the man who owned it waned
from grieving for his lifelong mate;
and in his potting shed arranged
with rope his life to terminate.

They’re ripping up the garden now
to build a clutch of smart abodes
for business folk who can’t afford
to waste their time in useless modes.

So last weekend a neighbour brought
me floral tributes from the mall:
that panorama at the sink
and Monet’s garden in the hall. the last two lines (specially the last one) feel awkward, i get it, it works but i wonder if it could be better stated.

Hello, billy. Thank you for your critique.

With regard to the points you raise:

1. I spent some time pondering the pansies apostrophe, and even sought the opinion of a friend who was just as equivocal about its inclusion. As another long-ago friend once advised: When in doubt, leave it out. So I did.

2. My poem was intended to be about loss – of the garden so admired by the narrator, and of the human life which immediately preceded it. There was intended, too, to be a touch of irony – in that the real-life garden was replaced, courtesy of a friendly neighbour, by the floral prints (those ‘floral tributes’) of a panorama and Monet’s garden. Implicit in the poem was the suggestion that the narrator, for whatever reason, was unable to establish a garden of his own – perhaps he was disabled, but I left that to the reader’s imagination.

Thank you again for your critique. I need all the analysis and suggestions I can get, and appreciate every one.

Regards,

Pilgrim.

[poeticdancer]

Botanica

Oh, for a garden like the one
that lately graced our urban street;
where florabunda bloomed profuse
and finch and magpie chanced to meet.

Where citrus hung in golden globes
to cushion winter’s creeping chill,
and pansies beds assured the world
that spring would keep her promise still.

It’s said the man who owned it waned I think the play of words in this staza is amazing
from grieving for his lifelong mate;
and in his potting shed arranged
with rope his life to terminate.

They’re ripping up the garden now this is the saddest part i think, the most powerful. A man who put such work into something, something that others enjoyed, just thrown away as if it never mattered.
to build a clutch of smart abodes
for business folk who can’t afford
to waste their time in useless modes.

While I get the point you were trying to make with this last stanza, it doesn't match up to power and imagery of the four above. Maybe the words "So", "weekend", and "neighbour" are what's throwing it off for me (personally). Maybe something like, "Today a friendly fellow brought"
So last weekend a neighbour brought
me floral tributes from the mall:
that panorama at the sink
and Monet’s garden in the hall. It should be "Monet's Garden" if it is the title of the art.

Overall I thought this was a great read. Thanks for sharing.

[Pilgrim]

Botanica

Oh, for a garden like the one
that lately graced our urban street;
where florabunda bloomed profuse
and finch and magpie chanced to meet.

Where citrus hung in golden globes
to cushion winter’s creeping chill,
and pansies beds assured the world
that spring would keep her promise still.

It’s said the man who owned it waned I think the play of words in this staza is amazing
from grieving for his lifelong mate;
and in his potting shed arranged
with rope his life to terminate.

They’re ripping up the garden now this is the saddest part i think, the most powerful. A man who put such work into something, something that others enjoyed, just thrown away as if it never mattered.
to build a clutch of smart abodes
for business folk who can’t afford
to waste their time in useless modes.

While I get the point you were trying to make with this last stanza, it doesn't match up to power and imagery of the four above. Maybe the words "So", "weekend", and "neighbour" are what's throwing it off for me (personally). Maybe something like, "Today a friendly fellow brought"
So last weekend a neighbour brought
me floral tributes from the mall:
that panorama at the sink
and Monet’s garden in the hall. It should be "Monet's Garden" if it is the title of the art.

Overall I thought this was a great read. Thanks for sharing.

Hello, poeticdancer. Thank you for your critique.

The imagery in the last stanza is a replication of an actual event of which I became aware. But I agree that it could seem out of context with what had preceded it. I’ll have a close look at a possible re-arrangement.

The actual title of the print in the hall was The Garden at Giverny which I more succinctly described to suit the stanza.

Thank you again for your interest.

Regards,

Pilgrim.

[tectak]

Botanica

Oh, for a garden like the one
that lately graced our urban street;
where florabunda bloomed profusefloribunda,surely?
and finch and magpie chanced to meet.

Where citrus hung in golden globes
to cushion winter’s creeping chill, not sure about the cushion word. How cushion? Difficult! ....to hold off winter'screeping chill?
and pansies beds assured the world avoid the problem! and pansy beds assured the world. Not worth the word play otherwise
that spring would keep her promise still. Nice sentiment. Overwintering into spring. Good

It’s said the man who owned it waned
from grieving for his lifelong mate;
and in his potting shed arranged
with rope his life to terminate. I like inversions but this is a little too forced to fit. Yoda speak it also is for sure.

They’re ripping up the garden now
to build a clutch of smart abodes
for business folk who can’t afford
to waste their time in useless modes. ...and here also. Very forced and blatant rhyme. You are better than this.

So last weekend a neighbour brought
me floral tributes from the mall:
that panorama at the sink
and Monet’s garden in the hall. dissappointing end. Not too sure why so precipitous. Not sure of anything in this stanza. You know...tell me

Hi pilgrim,
Nice story which needs smoothing out. There is inconsistency between stanzas which makes me think you wrote this over a lengthy period. Well worth editing.
Best,
tectak

[Brownlie]

Botanica

Oh, for a garden like the one
that lately graced our urban street;
where florabunda bloomed profuse
and finch and magpie chanced to meet.

Where citrus hung in golden globes -- Is hung acting to foreshadow here?
to cushion winter’s creeping chill,
and pansies beds assured the world
that spring would keep her promise still.-- [b]I enjoyed the naive belief in the promise of life thriving in spring.

It’s said the man who owned it waned
from grieving for his lifelong mate;
and in his potting shed arranged
with rope his life to terminate.--- I assume he commited suicide here
They’re ripping up the garden now
to build a clutch of smart abodes
for business folk who can’t afford
to waste their time in useless modes. -- His work and legacy is carelessly being cast asunder.

So last weekend a neighbour brought
me floral tributes from the mall: -- The mall is part of an industrializing force that has no rooms for things like gardensthat panorama at the sink
and Monet’s garden in the hall.

I may have missed some things in your poem, but I got that a man committed suicide and his garden was paved over to build new houses. I don't get the narrators connection to the man who ostinsably hung himself. The idea of a man's garden being paved over after his death as if it had no value is reminiscent of literary naturalism. Unfortunately, the allusion at the end was lost on me. My humble analysis... Thanks for posting.