Community gardens haiku

Vigorous broad bean
growing tall, towards the sky;
someone let Jack know.

Recycled fences
divide earnest allotments,
uniting people.

Weeds the enemy,
compost and mulch our friends;
here is abundance.

A break from the rain;
the bees are out and about.
Fertility’s kiss.

Delicate blossom
or coarse white broad bean flower;
the bee doesn’t care.

Humble silverbeet
claims its garden corner place
and shines from the sun.


© Ken Rookes 2016

While it was still dark

While it was still dark
the smallest something began.

The match flares;
its flame might catch,
or it could sputter out, unfulfilled.

In the shadows ahead of the rising sun
a woman follows a path through the trees;
hope has abandoned her.

It had been her painful duty
to watch the man die;
she knows that the darkness is thick and heavy.

Alone she comes,
with only the soft glow of love
to guide her feet to his tomb.

Hers will be a final act of devotion,
a sacred ministration to one she worshipped,
even though he cannot know it.

As she comes near to the place.
the beginnings of the dawn intrude,
to wash the garden with their dull light.

The shadows grow weak and diminish,
and the day begins to be reborn.


© Ken Rookes 2015

Are you the one?

When John spoke,
his words fell to drench dry earth
and the desert was filled
with long-forgotten flowers;
the purple trumpets of repentance
and the blue-bells of earnest intent.
Imprisoned, and presumed silent,
he summoned some friends
to report on the state of the garden.
they told of wilderness beauty:
the sprouting green of new life,
the golden flowering of good news,
the pink and white flourish
of restored skin and bone,
and the red blossoming
glorious song and rainbow array
awaiting newly opened ear and eye.

Then the Baptiser knew
that the long-expected one
truly had come.
© Ken Rookes

Another poem for the third Sunday in Advent can be found here. 

Fig tree fruits

If you repent,
the much-loved doctrine declares,
you will be forgiven.
A simple-enough transaction,
with the reception of forgiveness transmuted,
by divine alchemy, into the golden currency
of paradisiacal admittance. 

With much tears and wailing, repentance is enacted,
souls are pronounced saved,
and heaven’s host, we are told, prepares another room. 

But what if repentance is no mere turning point,
arrived at once and finally?
What if it is an attitude that grows, develops,
and manifests itself in actions;
many and uncounted, small and large;
with an impetus towards sharing and justice
and generosity and peace?
And what if the second chance grace
is all about such fruitfulness?

Fig tree fruits from plants worth their place
in the garden.

 © Ken Rookes 2013