Helmsley Walled Garden poetry

The creative writing and painting group from Croft Community produced an exhibition at Helmsley Walled gardens recently. This collection of work is inspired by their visit there.

The Song of the Alium

Bumble bees. Light purple, spiky to touch.
Yellow deep inside. Lighter on the tips.
The leaves of my purple flowers are bright green.
Light and dark colours from another yellow flower
Weave in and out through the garden loom,
Weaving in and out through the garden loom
Into a wave of summer.
Tallest of plants.
Unusually happy.
They move with the gentle wind.
Almost as tall as Larry.
Happy as Larry.

Michael Salmon


The Laburnum Church

Water. The sound of the fountain from where I am standing.
Under the mysterious waving leaves.
Some sheep I can hear in the background. The birds.
Then I look through and see the castle through the trees.
The intoxication of the woody scent.
Essence of the air after the great rain.
Being cold but warm. The air whispering around me.
Pure happiness. Being around the dark and green.
I remember too when
The flowers were out when I visited before.
They were white. Beautiful.
And if this avenue could talk it would say:
”Why am I underneath this castle?
Why is Mike sitting here on my bench?”
And at night when everyone has gone home,
I feel with my leaves.I am intoxicated by everything.
I become a hermit then quiet and peaceful.
Deep greens, yellows and browns.
We are in shadow.
Look up beyond the blue.

Owen Barber 


The Gathering at the Vine house café

After the rain came the sun
After the drive came the fun
Tanya came up with a quip
Owen came up with a pun
Treacle and Ginger cake
Served with a carton of cream
And Jane chose Chocolate and banana
And the rain came down like a stream
The last Vanilla and apricot slice and latte dream for Mike
Inside the glass of the café we had to wait
Until the skies turned bright

Group poem by Larry Mobley, Jane Harris, Owen Barber& Michael Salmon 


The Flower of the Artichoke

The light-green purple bracts
Hold the flower like a little boat
Laden with cherries.
Waves upon waves of purple inflorescence
Speckled white and green.
A cave here, a cavern there.
Dark and full of treasure
Resembling the sea.
But in the centre of the flower
A deep orange red burns
Like a firework about to
Explode with life.

Michael Salmon, Jane Harris and Owen Barber


Blue Heaven

Yellow
Orange
Black in the centre
Open faces
Bending light
Dark green leaves
Behind the sunflowers
A purple blossom of trees
Taller and blacker inside
There are three fat white clouds
Making a curvy pattern in the bright blue heaven.
Smell the August sun
On my brown arm.
And tiny drops of water begin
To tickle my skin
With warm rain.

Jane Harris 


A Walk along the Avenue of
Bees

So many different flowers.
Hollyhocks that have flowered and those that are about to flower.
Statue gold and black but old like rust.
A small boy with a fish like a God.
Water storming out of the fish’s mouth
Like a string of glass and copper beads dangling down from a thread of silver.
Yellow flowers like chamomile, soft to the touch.
Pinky-red, hundreds of rockets zooming up into space.
A feeling of peace. It’s wondrous really.
Electric colours. Light green, reds, dark yellow, purple and everywhere bees.
Beyond the Wall a line of trees.
Beyond the trees, the gaps in the trees
and then there’s the sky.
Still now.
Beyond the trees are the clouds.
Dark grey. Light over the statue. Blue door.
Beyond the clouds, the ruined castle. Sand and gold.

Larry Mobley 


 

 

 

Helmsley Walled Garden poetry