Some of my latest writing
My daughter Kim has a special toy shop and outside is a large corrugated iron from designed by my husband. We are working on capitalising on the Freddie the Frog theme and you can visit the website at http://www.3gteak.co.nz/page/gifts_for_kids/
I am safeCarol Fagan
I am home
The learned lofty leaves lift my spirit
As the trees murmur mixed up lullabies
And the names of foliage plants
Caress my creativity;
Hinting of exotic, far-off places.
Places I may have been,
Or places I have imagined
In my dream time
Ligularia, euphorbia, bromeliad, arisama
The terms trickle through my mind
Meandering on the border of botanical knowledge
But bounding into the unknown realms of my imagination.
Banksia, hosta, heukera, sisychrysium
These are like new friends, not quite known
Exotic in their bright spring foliage;
Comfortable in their response to my labours.
Clematis, azalea, petunia, geranium, rose
More common from their show-off blooms,
They clamour always for more space, more sun.
But it is the shade lovers, under the tree boughs, that call me in.
For them it is enough to show their luxuriant foliage.
There is a depth and a meaningfulness to their presence
A depth their flamboyant neighbours oft times lack.
They do not clamour for attention, space, or sun.
They just are.
And their being softens my sadness.
They rejoice with my peace
In their own abundant way.
Two sides of the balance bar.
One quiet, restful, unobtrusive –
The other, full of glamour and short-lived beauty.
How like the personalities of the world out there.
I am the caretaker of this world;
I get to choose between the two.
I am within my garden.
My garden is within me;
Physically, mentally, emotionally.
I am safe.
I am home.
I am at peace.
I sit beneath the tall birchesCarol Fagan
Listening to a thousand shivering leaves
Caressed by a flirtatious hand.
Seductive, Secretive, Suggestive
Speaking a sea-voice song
Twisting leaves in erotic turmoil.
Fixed only by a slender stem
Their ecstasy moulds them to their stand.
They whisper together of surreptitious sensations
Sounds that come in spasms
Like the sea to the shore
Or the high pitch of a lover’s climax.
And I sit here listening
Trying to interpret the secrets that they share