Photograph of Celia Thaxter's Garden‘The World Is Still Too Much’ and Other Poetry by Cheryl Corey The Society March 6, 2017 Beauty, Humor, Poetry, The Environment The World Is Still Too Much Too much, and much too much, it still goes on: The men and women who covet wealth and bling, And acquisition of each material thing, Yet search for some elusive paradigm Of Self as one with Nature. Rising seas And tempest winds instill a mounting fear That Doomsday, Armageddon, the End draw near, And quick to Nature’s wrath they must appease. Together, they will save the Earth, demand That we consume fewer fossil fuels, And lobby for strict environmental rules; See to it that everyone throughout the land Pays homage to the new religion—Green; But first, they need to check their iPhone screen. Too Much Red Meat If you should eat Too much red meat, You may find out You have the gout; But if you eat The fruited meat Of dark red cherry, You’ll soon make merry. Celia Thaxter’s Garden When nurtured by the lady’s gentle hand, A garden bloomed from out the roughened land; Where to the east lay shoals and ocean rocks, The view to west was crimson hollyhocks, Their showy columns rocking to and fro In gusty breezes; roses—jacqueminot, Damask, and tea; nasturtium, pink, and aster; Petunia, flax, and marigold; spikes of larkspur And sunflower; twinkle-white of clematis And calla lily; iris, oxalis, Forget-me-not and bachelor’s button; blued By heaven morning glory; multi-hued Wisteria, pea, and coreopsis vine With honeysuckle, hops, and columbine; And drifts of poppies fired like blown glass, Their petals flaming suns in the beach grass; Then blown away to welter on the sea In undulating knolls, a watery lea; In spite of storms and besting wicked weeds, Had time enough to set their podded seeds; These flowers, lacking any major shelter, This humble garden, rambling helter-skelter, From clustered bells to radiant anadems, The lovely blooms were works of art on stems; A home to bees and jeweled hummingbirds, That honeyed Celia’s mouth with nectar-words; When placed in vases through the parlor room, They doused the summer guest with sweet perfume; And there, at that resort, Victorian-quaint, The artist, namely Hassam, loved to paint, Sonatas filled the air, poetic lays Inspired—pellucid, watercolor days At Appledore—idyllic arts retreat, Where Celia’s garden charmed the time’s aesthete! Cheryl Corey’s poetry appears in The Society of Classical Poets Journal 2016 Vol. 4. Recent publications include a short story, “The Briar Rose”, featured in Tall Tales & Short Stories, an anthology published in 2014; and in 2016, “The Mirror”, a novella, was published. Her writing has been selected for future publication in an anthology of women writers. For correspondence regarding the “po biz” and writing life, email email@example.com. Related Post ‘The Mellow Season’ by Carole Mertz Ah, now comes the mellow season, Marks its time with jackdaws caws. Autumn with its rusty reason Offers forth its season’s laws. Now no more the... Tell the world:FacebookTwitterTumblrPinterestRedditLinkedInEmail Leave a Reply Cancel Reply Your email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.