Weeds are multiplying, procreating
indifferent - breaking though pebbles
on my garden path.
They look like clover planning a gardenary take over.
I pull them placing them
in the brimming bucket -
brimming with green -
then into the trash bin.
What gives me the right to uproot them?
I am a giant.
These are my castle grounds.
Bugs inside, I catch in a cup,
freeing them in my garden, but weeds?
I have my limits.
I must defend my lawn from united weed usurpers.
What makes a weed a weed?
where they do not belong.
some people are weeds.
there are no weeds at all.
Welcome to Four Lines! I have a goal I would like to write at least four lines of poetry or a haiku every day for the rest of my life. I'm excited about this challenge! Also, along with my daily poem, I will be reading at least four lines of another author's poetry. I'll try to include that here also. So I'm thinking - how difficult can it be to read and then write one poem a day? We will see! - Claudia
All poems on this blog, unless noted, are written by Claudia Callaghan.
© 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016 Claudia Callaghan
Used only with permission. Please feel free to join Four Lines and request permission.