I went to the garden of love.
And saw what I never had seen.
A Chapel was built in the midst.
Where I used to play on the green
Restless thoughts continually plagued,
could find no rest in town abode.
Heart and soul sought sanctuary –
my mind then turned to childhood roams.
Imagining kind nature’s scenes:
sweet blossomed air, while courting dove’s
wings flutter over fresh dewed grass,
where I could rest from life’s trouble,
and all I wish to be be free of.
So, I went to the garden of love.
The journey was eerily new,
yet with sense familiarly mixed,
indicating it was the old.
Few landmarks could I recognise,
topography had so much changed –
none of which I could have foreseen.
My longing for nostalgia – dashed,
yesterdays will not come again.
I wept for what used to have been,
and I saw what I never had seen.
Green and browns had all been displaced.
Rich textures: moss, bark, soft petal
with brick and mortar were replaced.
I stood as stone amongst the wreck,
speechlessness held me fixed and numb.
Bereaved of what used to exist,
gradually, my rage built up.
All I could see was ugliness.
All I loved was now sorely missed –
for a Chapel was built in the midst.
People filed past in pensive mode
through the temple’s cold, rigid jaws,
where painful rules shackle shadows,
casting out joy for miser laws.
Where love’s song had softly echoed,
I found nothing but cruel routine.
“Your either with God or against” –
warmth lost to controlling regime.
The sight to me was so obscene
where..I used..to play..on the green.
Today at dverse Samuel Peralta has us trying our hand at Glosa, which involves starting with another poet’s quatrain, and then writing four new, ten line stanzas, where the last line for each stanza uses a line from the quatrain (lines 6 and 9 rhyming with the last line in the stanza).