Garden poetry contest 2018: Long Island green-thumbed readers sow joy
![Helga K. Breen of Riverhead holds a bouquet of fresh...](/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Fcdn.newsday.com%2Fimage-service%2Fversion%2Fc%3AOWMzYmI2OWItNDhkYS00%3AOWItNDhkYS00NGQ0MzFh%2Flfdamiano180708_photos.jpg%3Ff%3DLandscape%2B16%253A9%26w%3D770%26q%3D1&w=1920&q=80)
Helga K. Breen of Riverhead holds a bouquet of fresh cut flowers from her garden on Friday, June 28, 2018. Credit: Randee Daddona
Of course you know plant, bug and bird.
So I asked you to send me your word.
Your efforts, no doubt, ensure you won’t do without
Because you can sow, reap and herd.
In May, I asked readers to craft an original poem describing how and why they practice self-sufficiency around the home and garden, and they did not disappoint: Nearly 80 poems filled my mailboxes, including a couple penned by young gardeners. Some are funny, others heartfelt — and all will plant a seed of joy in your heart.
Helga Breen of Riverhead gets top honors for “My Little Garden,” her biographical verse describing growing up in war-torn Germany, where sustainability was less a choice than a means of survival.
“My brothers and I were always hungry,” Breen recalls. “Mother gave each of us a small patch of garden, which she had to beg from a nearby farmer. The little gardens became our pride and joy. Our homegrown fruits and vegetables truly helped to sustain us. It instilled in us the joy of gardening, which has over the years become a lifelong hobby,” she writes. “I honestly believe that it was the best gift our mother ever gave us.”
![Fynn Haughney, 14, at her home in Bay Shore on...](/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Fcdn.newsday.com%2Fimage-service%2Fversion%2Fc%3AMjJkOGFmODItOTZiZC00%3AODItOTZiZC00OTFmZjY0%2Flfdamiano180708_photos.jpg%3Ff%3DLandscape%2B16%253A9%26w%3D768%26q%3D1&w=1920&q=80)
Fynn Haughney, 14, at her home in Bay Shore on June 26, 2018. Credit: Johnny Milano
Helga Breen, Riverhead
My Little Garden
It was in Europe in 1944, when as a tot of six and no more,
My mother taught me to plant, seed and how to use a hoe.
![Eliana Eisermann, 8, of Commack recites her poem in front...](/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Fcdn.newsday.com%2Fimage-service%2Fversion%2Fc%3ANDE3MzMyYjktOTUwYi00%3AYjktOTUwYi00OGZmYTE3%2Flfdamiano180708_photos.jpg%3Ff%3DLandscape%2B16%253A9%26w%3D768%26q%3D1&w=1920&q=80)
Eliana Eisermann, 8, of Commack recites her poem in front of her home on Saturday, June 30, 2018. Credit: Randee Daddona
I grew what I most liked to eat,
Which were carrots, sprouts and sweet peas.
My little garden helped me to grow
and fostered an interest, I’m happy to say
is my absolute delight to this very day.
HONORABLE MENTIONS
Jane Shelley, Wantagh
Untitled
I enjoy growing herbs near my door,
Their gathering is never a chore.
Aromatic they are,
Delicious by far,
Plus, convenient, no trip to the store!
J.R. Turek, East Meadow
Untitled
It was the spring of the romaine scare – toxic lettuce!
Beware where you buy, country of origin, trust nothing,
avoid romaine lettuce, and we did. Got accustomed to the
nothingness of iceberg, the tang of dandelions, the bitterness
of spring greens, and planting time changed everything. Now,
the scare a distant headline, we harvest our own romaine, no
fear of poisoning, trust the country of origin: our own garden.
Tammy Green, Huntington
The Deck Garden
The pleasure of the gem at hand,
The fruit I grow,
The homemade jam,
The challenge to bring forth from earth,
The stalk of corn, the bean well worth,
Abjuring any pesticide,
That is the law I do abide.
Charlotte Hoffman, Uniondale
Mixed Blessing
It’s spring, and as I survey my lawn, my neighbor comes to chat.
“I got somethin’ that’ll get ridda them dandylions for ya.”
Then shakes his head when I decline his offer of killer toxins.
Months later on an icy winter day, I think of him
As I sip a pale, sweet wine and seem to smell green grass
All from the tiny yellow suns I didn’t “get ridda.”
Barbara J. Minerd, Halesite
Agrarian Society’s Tongue
There once lived a tongue who loved peas.
He grew them from seed with great ease.
So he planted more crops
to harvest nonstop.
Now he lives without produce store needs.
THE BEST OF THE REST
Bernice Busch, Oceanside
My Bouquet of Flowers
In the garden of my heart
Many friendships have I grown.
Sadness and joy helped them to be sown.
As the air I exhale disappears without traces
Their presence is gone, but I still see their faces.
Laughter and sorrow were for them so real.
How do I express the sadness I feel.
The souls of the universe reach out to embrace
The flowers of my garden who are in a new place.
I am left with beauty in mind and heart
All things living eventually depart.
Krystyna Reckner, Melville
Race the Sun
Wake up when it’s dark and make the coffee.
Care for the animals and get the equipment out.
Hurry to the field, you’re running out of time.
The day hasn’t even started, and you’re already rushing.
The sky starts lightening even though you can’t see the sun yet.
Cut your flowers now, quickly, quickly!
The sun is going to rise and its heat will be everywhere.
Helene Hahn, Bellmore
Backyard Farming
I work the earth of my small garden, dark and moist, squiggly with worms.
Last year’s seeds are sown; store bought plants are bedded.
I wait for new leaves to sprout and tiny seedlings to push through.
Then begins the watering, pinching, thinning; and weeding, always weeding.
I wait again for the delicious moment when my modest crop is harvested.
Fresh vegetables are savored; jars of tomatoes, relish and pickles stored on shelves.
I carefully save seeds for next year, to begin the cycle anew.
Marvin Illman, Woodmere
Gardening
Tomatoes, cucumbers, string beans I grew
Delicious, nutritious, and much cheaper, too.
Aesthetically pleasing are colors galore
Filling my heart and my vegetable store
Even though produce results from your toil.
Gardening is good for your body and soil.
Domenick Graziani, Babylon
Turn Over (For Dad)
It’s when I grab the shovel and dig
To turn over the dirt in springtime
I feel you closest to me; recalling sweat dripping from your nose.
I can hire the kid down the street, rent a machine.
But I choose to don the old gloves and
Press my shoe to shovel’s shoulder
Cleaving clumps of weeds from renewed earth.
Anne Butler, Oceanside
Untitled
Winter came early and never left
I ache for spring’s rebirth.
Slender shoots of crocus, hyacinth and daffodil pierce through the hard-packed earth.
The sun breaks through winter clouds and warms.
I dream of planting tomatoes, cucumbers, squash and red and green peppers.
I break my foot.
Maybe cherry tomatoes, trellising in a pot on my deck.
Robert Savino, West Islip
The Reason I Grow a Garden
The fruit of trees appeared to bow to him.
Vegetables were as grand as a farmer’s stand.
The produce man tipped his hat when they passed in the street.
The inside band of grandfather’s straw hat would be saturated
in sweat when we returned back to the house.
The short Italian man stood tall … and me,
it was the only time I was allowed to play in dirt.
Margarette Wahl, Massapequa
Stingers
The first few times stung me by surprise.
Later I blew up into a balloon of reactions
by their piercing presence.
Now I welcome their abrupt buzzing sounds toward me
whizzing by my zinnias, marigolds, and daisies.
Local honey’s a sweet remedy for my seasonal allergies.
Planting pays homage to bees.
Marlene DiMartino, Islip
Grandpa’s Symbol
Grandpa came to America at only 23, and with him came the seeds for our lucky fig tree
Grandpa bought a house at only 33, and with his love he planted our lucky fig tree
Grandpa passed away at only 63, but the roots and limbs still grew on our lucky fig tree
We moved into Grandpa’s house in 1983 and reaped and sowed the fruits of our lucky fig tree
Each year we share a sweet with the family that grew from the branches of our lucky fig tree
We smile, we laugh, we feel fulfilled, and we all agree
that the symbol of our family is our lucky fig tree.
Terri Donahue, Center Moriches
Untitled
Reduce, reuse, and recycle.
Turn your garden into a sustainable table
Rich of vegetables sweeter than any store-bought product.
Teach the children to grow into adults that care about the earth.
Cultivate their compassion and show them that
Self-sufficiency can be rewarding and tasty.
Claire Yang, via email
The Humility of a Vegetable
One seed, surrounded by a vast sea of soil
Pushing forward to the light
Watered with calloused hands and sweat
Sprouting out and up
Toward the golden silky strands of sunlight
The testament to life, reaped from toil
Is but a humble cucumber
Timothy Busam, East Northport
Untitled
Growing my veggies here at home,
Gives me inspiration for this poem.
Tomatoes, cucumbers and peppers, it’s fun.
Needing only, soil, water and sun.
I reap what I sow
and I save some dough.
Eileen Melia Hession, Long Beach
Untitled
First, I planted tomatoes, and they were so delicious,
Cooked or cold I ate them in so many wonderful dishes.
Next year I added basil, so savory, so sweet.
Then I learned about caprese, a grand Italian treat.
I want it fresh and wonder what a gardener’s best advice is,
What do I plant in order to grow mozzarella slices?
Susan Marie Davniero, Lindenhurst
Dad’s Garden Tomatoes
It’s Dad’s backyard spread
A garden of tomatoes bed
The plants’ harvest grew
Fresh tomatoes on the menu
Only garden tomatoes could
Ever taste this good.
Keith A. Simmons, Bay Shore
Fruit of the Earth
Springtime comes to the vegetable garden
hands dig deep into the earth
sensing a connection to my earth source
to the ingredients of which I am made
water, dirt and DNA
all that I am
the fruit of the earth.
J. Fischer
Untitled
When planting our hydrangea in the front yard much to our delight, a melon grew, in clear sight.
From compost bin to a garden miracle win.
A gift from above that grew so swift.
Although small as an apple, a mini sample
A treasure to eat and incredibly sweet.
A onetime treat we could never repeat.
Joan Marg-Kirsten, Levittown
Our Apple Trees
We had peach, pear and apple trees all over our backyard
with enough room to walk between them
loved the apples most, Red Delicious, Golden Delicious, Granny Smiths.
I’d give my son buckets, “Go get some apples?” I’d ask.
They loved that chore, even washed apples for me.
Then I’d cut them up, make applesauce, homemade pies
Knowing we all had a hand in it, the aroma wafting in the air, waiting for supper, wow!
Linda Sardone, West Hempstead
Untitled
I planted: Wildflowers and milkweed to attract butterflies.
Squash, pumpkins, tomatoes and beans for food.
Marigolds to keep the insects away.
Impatiens and sedum to bedazzle with color.
Rose and lilac to overwhelm with fragrance.
Yet the weeds and poison ivy invade forevermore.
Bill Kirsten, Levittown
Cherry Tree
We had a cherry tree in our backyard,
Picking the cherries wasn’t that hard.
Problem was we had to pick them all in one day.
If not the birds would come and take them away.
The next morning, oh, woe is me!
The tree would be bare
With no cherries to eat
Joan Marg-Kirsten, Levittown
Gardening in the Summertime
I didn’t plant, water or weed them.
I told her, “You can use my backyard for your garden.”
And she told me, “Help yourself to whatever you can use.”
So in the middle of making a salad I stop what I’m doing
go out the back door to her garden patch.
I pick the brightest, reddest tomatoes, wash them, add salt, pepper, olive oil, and balsamic.
I feed them to my family.
I love summertime.
Bernice Busch, Oceanside
Au Nutritional
It’s always tasty and a treat.
Planting the food that you eat.
Better than buying from the store shelf.
Healthy when you grow it yourself.
Water and sun, some TLC.
There’s nothing like homegrown variety.
Bernice Busch, Oceanside
Gardener’s Lament
I have no green thumb at all
I planted the bulb in the fall
Looked in the ground
It’s upside down
As a gardener, I’m in withdrawal.
Irma Souveroff, Baldwin
The Buzz Around Town
Mary? Mary’s a secretary.
(In her spare time a beekeeper, though.)
She’s come out of her shell, for her honey sells well
And her profits are sweet, don’t you know.
Irma Souveroff, Baldwin
Blue Haiku
Berries were dawn-picked,
Fragrant blue heaven awaits:
Pies oozing warm juice.
Tim Kaler, Brentwood
Earthly Concern
Vegetable kingdom homegrown labor of love inch by inch
Our gratitude can’t sit down for the weeds and their endless squinch.
Climb along the garden wall while sown seeds of substance unclinch.
What’s good for the golden sunflower is good for the goldfinch.
With a snap sweet pea secure your harvested hand in a cinch.
Taken with a grain of salt Mother Earth’s bounty gets a pinch.
Sustain mankind with organic agriculture and don’t flinch
Maria Manobianco, Farmingdale
Untitled
Once a week I curb
my recycling for pick up
and I am happy.
Dick Kissel, Amityville
My Self Sufficient Garden
No need to buy compost,
From leaves I make my own.
I love to plant the seedlings,
And watch how much they’ve grown.
My self-sufficient gardening
Provides a chem-free crop.
Tomatoes, kale and brocc.
Dick Kissel, Amityville
My Self Sufficient Garden
Haiku versions
Self-sufficiency
Garden without chemicals
Tasty tomatoes!
Organic garden
Peacefully planting snow peas.
My wok awaits you.
Compost strengthens soil.
Tomatoes red and ripened,
Tasty, chem-free treat.
Youthful verses
Fynn Haughney, 14, Bay Shore
I haven’t given birth to a child, yet.
But I have been a mom.
I have grown seedlings into tall and mighty stems.
Seedlings that have no meaning, until the world sees them grown.
But I, and any other farmer, or a person that occasionally plants,
See the small seeds as beautiful and strong,
And the changes we need to make Eve’s garden a finer speck in the universe.
Eliana Eisermann, 8, Commack
I feel the sun in my heart. It tells me to feel happy.
Flowers bloom when the sun is bright, and the day is nice.
Fruits grow in bushes and trees. It tastes delicious when nice and ripe.
Vegetables grow as well delicious wherever they are to grow.