A rose garden at altitude under occupation

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especially in mid-winter

I picture the rose garden

the secret garden of my soul

where all that is good and all that is fine

are written in a tender-script divine

where persian berries tantalise us

and dates from al'andalus tempt us

and the figs are fine and the wine just fine

and chinese herbs help me see

the tibetan plateau  all around me

where all that is, is being free,

the air is rare and the skies so high

while chinese troops are passing by

my temple is my privilige

as my death will be 

for all that I love, I see.

◄ Solstice song

Flogging a dead horse ►

Comments

Big Sal

Tue 25th Dec 2018 13:12

The adjectives describing the locations do wonders for the imagery.

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John Marks

Tue 25th Dec 2018 12:51

Thank you David for your support. It means a lot to me. I hope that 2019 is kind to you. John

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Wolfgar Miere

Tue 25th Dec 2018 07:55

Hi John,

lovely piece of writing. Thanks also for the Gregory Alan Isakov link a poem in itself, beautiful.

David.

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John Marks

Tue 25th Dec 2018 01:44

Thank you Douglas. Your support is appreciated. John

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