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How To Look After Your Bougainvillea; An ‘Axe Tony’ Guide

About bougainvilleas
I’m writing a guide,
Using my methods
Which are trusted and tried.
Now if your plant is unruly,
And frustration grips
Then help is at hand,
Just follow my tips.
First hack off the branches,
Cut back as far as you can,
(With those dangerous spikes
That’s best left to a man).
When you’re just left
With the base of the plant
Take a good spade,
Held at a slant,
And dig out the roots,
Needs a little persistence,
I find wielding an axe
Overcomes their resistance.
Once the base and the roots
Are successfully removed
Throw them on the compost,
(Remember my method’s approved)
Then go tell your spouse
With a smile of your face
And her reaction will tell you
That you’re in disgrace.
So retrieve your bougainvillea
From the compost heap,
Dig a new hole
Nice and deep,
Add a little bonemeal
And some water too
And replant the bougainvillea,
It’s so easy to do.
And in a few months
You’ll see new branches shoot.
You see fixing a bougainvillea
Is really a hoot!

Fountain Pen

I haven’t used a fountain pen for longer than I care to remember, and I forgot just how nice it feels. It is slightly more inconvenient than a ballpoint pen or a pencil, but I’m sure that I can learn to live with that; until I spill the bottle of ink, that is!

I found an old fountain pen,
Alas, it had run out of ink,
But I was lucky to find a store
Selling Parker’s famous black Quink:
Now I’m writing with that pen
And it’s oh, so much better,
Resulting in an overwhelming feeling
To write someone a letter.
I can’t remember the last time
I sent anything hand written by post,
Letters are typewritten then printed,
Although I use e-mails the most;
Not forgetting about social media,
Facebook and WhatsApp now the thing,
But the satisfaction of hand writing
Electronic communication can’t bring.

Days End

There is something quite magical about sitting and just watching the sun go down….

TPOTG Days End 01

The sun starts to set,
The air slowly cools,
The fierce daytime heat
Now no longer rules.
On the stoep we have gathered
For our usual observance
Of the end of the day,
The sun’s disappearance.

The dog has been walked,
The wine has been poured,
The stoep lamps are burning,
Against insects secured;
The last of the daylight
Lingers far out to the West,
It’s awesome changing vistas,
Stirring senses from rest.

And as night supplants day
The twilight is crowned
By animals orchestrating
That African sound.
Guinea fowl roosting,
Chattering away,
Crickets endless chirping,
Owls having their say.

Haunting sounds
As the day’s put to rest,
Another Karoo wonder
By which we are blessed.
And as the stoep lamps flicker
And we watch the flames dance,
The moths come to join us
On their nightly advance.

Finally by the darkness
We’re completely surrounded,
Our mind, soul and body
Now totally grounded.
Of all of life’s crops
Surely this is the cream,
Sitting here on the stoep,
Living our dream.

A Leaf’s Lament

Sitting here watching the plants being battered by relentless gusts of wind, after having just endured a severe frost and wondering just what those poor leaves must be feeling.

It’s not easy being a leaf these days,
By Jack Frost I’ve been abused,
And now by a howling gale
I’m being battered and bruised.
If only I could be like a plant’s root,
Buried way beneath the ground,
Protected from the frost and wind,
A warm and peaceful haven found.
Not being bothered by the hot sun.
The outside world would not intrude,
Just need the old man to give me water,
And the occasional dose of plant food.
With a worm or two for company,
(Hopefully a mole I’d never meet),
Maybe some other roots to chat with,
As we lay spreading our feet.

Garden Refugee

There is nowhere I’d rather be………………

A person who seeks out a refuge
Is known as a refugee,
When you find me in my garden
Then throw that mantle over me.
It is my church, my special place,
A sanctuary where I find peace;
The world outside is kept at bay,
And my soul can find release.

20190513_170510 with frame

With hoe in hand or watering can,
Under cloud or the blistering sun,
Life’s petty worries are cast aside
And with nature I become as one.
My garden’s where I can truly find peace
As my plants I lovingly tend;
A safe haven that beckons me every day,
My refuge that’s become a best friend.

056 with frame

The feel of the earth as I work with my hands
Makes the spirits inside of me rise;
I can think of no place I’d rather be,
No better sight for my sore, old eyes.
How can I value these gifts I receive
As my garden keeps on giving and giving?
I’ve found my asylum, I’ve made my escape;
A garden refugee; what a life to be living!

Maybe Ten More Summers

None of us are getting any younger, but as you progress through your seventies you begin to reflect on just how many more years you actually may have left…

TPOTG Getting Older Acknowledgement

Maybe ten more summers, I hope there are more,
But nothing is certain, nothing is sure.
And at the end of those summers, when the lights fade,
Too late then to regret decisions not made.

Maybe ten more summers, so what should I do?
Stick with the old or try something new?
Another adventure, before I’m too old,
Create some new stories, which to friends can be told?

Maybe ten more summers, our lives are so short,
That time passes so quickly is not something we’re taught,
Feels like only yesterday those teenage years,
No old age thoughts then, no nagging fears.

Maybe ten more summers, choices need to be made,
But with age we lose confidence, become more afraid;
And what if that ten becomes twenty, or more?
If only I knew what life had in store.

Maybe ten more summers, is the time now or never
To stop being so wise, to dispense with the clever?
Is it time to be carefree, just live for the day,
Before my summers are all taken away?

Procrastination? I Need To Think About That…..

Would becoming more decisive be a good decision? I’m trying to decide…..

TPOTG Procrastination with frame

I’m pondering on something that I have just heard,
It’s “procrastination”, an unusual word;
I’m trying to decide if I’ve heard it before,
I think I might have, but I’m not really sure.

Five syllables long, but what does it mean?
I need to find out, (hope it’s nothing obscene),
But I can’t decide where I should look,
Should I go online or refer to a book?

Perhaps ask a friend, but then again, maybe not,
Just in case I didn’t like the answer I got,
And anyway it might not speed up the task,
As I’d have to decide which friend I would ask.

Should I look this morning; or this afternoon?
Or investigate tomorrow? Today is a little too soon.
Maybe I won’t look at all, oh I just can’t decide,
But there’s no need to rush, I’ve got time on my side.

I think I need to reflect and have a tea break,
Or would coffee be better, help keep me awake?
And the tea or the coffee, in a mug or a cup?
So many decisions, they just keep mounting up.

My voyage of discovery may well be life changing,
So the pro’s and the cons need careful arranging;
I just must be wary as my enquiries are progressed,
Don’t want to do anything that might leave me distressed.

Perhaps it would be better to postpone my investigation,
And forget all about the meaning of procrastination?
At least I feel sure, well, with near certainty,
That procrastination won’t have anything to do with me!

Township Dog

One of the saddest sights in South African townships are the large number of neglected, hungry and maltreated dogs that roam around.

TPOTG Township Dog with Frame

I don’t have a name,
No one ever loved me that much,
And from when I was a pup
I’ve known no gentle touch;
You see I’m a township dog
And ever since my arrival
My days have been spent
Fighting just for survival.
No bowls filled with food,
I scavenge scraps instead,
And I sleep where I can,
There’s no comfortable bed.
I’m often unwell,
But there’s no vet to arrange,
I’m covered in fleas
And my coat’s full of mange.
The long winter’s nights,
I find nothing is worse,
Those freezing cold winds
Are this thin dog’s curse.
I keep out of the way,
Or else I get kicked,
And for illegal dog fights
I hope I’m never picked.
At avoiding deadly traffic
I’ve become quite adept,
A parental skill
I’ve thankfully kept.
I don’t know another life,
Being part of a home,
Being loved and cared for,
Not being left just to roam.
As kindness is not something
I’ve ever known,
Then trust is not something
I’ve ever shown.
But who cares about me?
Why should I be saved?
I’m just a township dog,
Alone and afraid.

Diets Can Be Dangerous

Christmas and New Year celebrations have added to the waistline, a fact confirmed by the scales, so it’s diet time, although there are risks associated with that…

TPOTG Shower Waste

And so today my diet begins,
A necessary penance to counter my feeding sins;
Over indulgence, unnecessary eating,
All the wrong foods together competing
To increase my waistline, add a new layer of fat;
Well this diet will wave goodbye to all that.
No more carbs at breakfast, lunch or dinner,
And as the weeks pass I’ll get thinner and thinner,
Until very soon precautions will need to be placed
To ensure I don’t disappear down the shower waste!

No Year Resolution

Here’s one New Year resolution that I know I will keep.

My New Year’s resolution
Is perfectly clear,
It’s not to make resolutions
For the New Year.
Self-promises made,
Like some ritual token,
No matter how earnest
Are sure to be broken,
Leading to frustration and guilt,
Such bitter pills to swallow,
So tradition, I’ve decided,
Is not something I’ll follow.

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Christmas and New Year celebrations have added to the waistline, a fact confirmed by the scales, so it’s diet time, although there are risks associated with that…

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