I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world, to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

7 April 2016


I can't forget honeydew –
cloyingly over-sweetened;
raindrop-thin liquid
parading as juice –
in my stepmother's garden
next to the hothouse,
or decorative on her table
alongside the Wedgewood teacups.

And, with one of those sweeps of her eyelashes,
seeping through her poison-sugar voice.

Image by DailyCraft via Flickr Creative Commons

At 'imaginary garden with real toads' we are invited to use compound words to include in our poems, from lists provided. I did that and added a few not listed.


  1. "poison-sugar voice" -- I love this.

  2. Some memories of being home while growing up are very clear, others foggy to the brink of forgetting. Some are sweet (sweet melons?) and others are of so bitter a relationship verging on or being hate. My run the gamut. Concerning the eating situation, I suppose my mom's cooking fried chicken was about as vivid in detail as your honeydew melons. From the getting from the flock to the killing and the defeathering,mcutting up, frying, delegating the parts, cleaning the bones, and second helpings.
    BTW, before bring to the table we spooned out the seeds and removed the skins. Not as pretty a setting but more efficient. Our setting was country, on a farm. Yours?

    1. Grape-vine country (though we did not live on a vineyard, or block as they were called locally). Yes, the melons would normally have been sliced and seeds removed for the table, but this made a better picture here. I was a teenager when I acquired the Wicked Stepmother, and escaped after two miserable years, to become a University student in the city of Melbourne.

  3. And, with one of those sweeps of her eyelashes,
    seeping through her poison-sugar voice.

    Glorious write..!!

  4. I love the contrast in the line de mentions as well...beautiful write!

  5. Yikes! Even the green suits her. Thabjs, rosemary. K.

  6. From 'parading as juice'to 'poison-sugar voice' there seems to be a hint of skullduggery lurking round the Wedgewood. A fascinating one.

  7. So sickening with poison-sugar voice. A dangerous acquaintance.

  8. Oh my, she sounds like a beast. I so can't stand the sugar in a voice that like to pour salt into wounds.

  9. ooooh. this is sharp beneath that sugar. well done ~

  10. Well done. The final couplet really sets it.

  11. Gosh, I'll never look at a honeydew melon with quite the same relish ever again!

  12. Ooh, poison-sugar. So well written! I haven't had honeydew in a long time. It was a favorite of my grandparents.