Misadventures at Tulips Are Better Than One.

Dear Quentin,

You remember that gardening store, Tulips Are Better than One? So I had to go there for your  stupid garden and arghhhh!

I walked into the dirt strewn store
With a shopping list in hand.

The people in Tulips Are Better Than One
Were not what I had planned.

My vision, what I had seen
Was a cute little garden store
With a nice old lady manning the desk
And some flower pots on the floor.

Some plastic birds on the ceiling
Sunlight streaming through the door
Not crusty windows with dirt on the sills
And Paris Hilton times four.

They were lurking all over the store,
With nail files and hair ties and bows
Paris One was sitting on the counter
Looking through Facebook Posts

Paris Two was tanning on the porch
With flip flops on her feet
Flipping through Vogue magazine
And drawing on her jeans


Paris Three near the ceramic
Chattering to herself
Paris Four with  bejeweled gnomes
Yes, them as well.

I approached the counter
Tapped gently on the bell
The little clang rang through the room
It startled me as well!

But Paris One just kept on texting
Do her thumbs have the strength of a whale?
I tapped the bell, yet again
Alas, to no avail. 

The one outside (at last!) looked up
Rather  grumpily,
Snaps on her gum, picked up her mag
And stomped over to me.

"Yeah, kid?" she asks,
 Nails tapping the counter,
I stutter (oh-so gracefully)
"I have some plants I need to water"

"No duh, doll, we all do."
Says the one beside the gnomes,
"You'll need some fertilizer, too."
She tossed me a bag, then moans.

"My nails!" she screams, and waves her hand.
"That STUPID dirt got on it!"
The others gather around her
While her gentle tears dry on it.

"IT"S JUST A NAIL!" I scream,
I throw the can to the floor,
"And, ugh! It  is garden store!
Why would you cry about it?"

"It was a perfect manicure! We'd all weep about it!"
I groan and grab my purchased goods,
And march right out the door.
And desert the Hiltonites
In that forsaken garden store!

Love,                                                                                                                   
Tate

PS: You know I don't title my poems- like, 10 years from now, people will just have to read through a pile of poems labeled things like  "Free Verse 13" like Shakespeare makes them do. 
Free Verse

(A Diamante and Haiku) Sleepless in Iqaluit

Tate,

Do NOT kill my garden, Tate-y, or I will set a polar bear on you.
Kidding! Well, kind of.
So, summer is a lot different up here. It's really hard to sleep, because the sun never sets. Yes, it sounds poetic but really, it's just annoying. I'm sleep deprived,best friend deprived and garden deprived. I'm slowly on a path to insanity.


The Life I Used to Have
                                       Here
                               Freezing White
                        Blinding Rising Yawning
                    Bears Fish Flowers Friends
                       Smiling Living Sleeping
                                Green Warm
                                     Home

Forever Blue Sky

Where has the moon gone
Looking up I see the sun
Forever shining

Love,
Q.

PS. Maybe a titlefor your poem next time,Tate?

OUT OF CHARACTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(Instead of Tate or Quentin this is the elusive author. Moving on)

This is a basic overview of this blog- just some questions answered.

Q. Why did you choose the title of your blog?
A. I had absolutely no idea what to call the blog, so I flipped through my notebook and looked for a phrase to use. I found "Garden's doomed." so I changed that into 'THE Garden IS Doomed', then came up with the idea of the topic after.

Q.Are you working alone or with a partner?
A. I'm working on my blog alone, because I wanted to follow my own idea instead of trying to work out compromises with others. Also I find this easier; I can do what I want, and avoid a problem I've had before when writing things in turns with friends, which is that the voices of characters are different for every person. This may be different because there are two different people (Tate and Q) but I would still like to shape both characters to my own liking.

Q. Is your blog based on a central theme or idea?
A. Yes , it's the story of Tate and Quentin, two kids about our age (13) who have just got out of school for the summer. Quentin, the boy, is really into gardening and has his own garden in the backyard of his house. Tate, is not so into gardening. Poetry is more her thing.

Quentin's mom is an environmental scientist and has moved his whole family to the Arctic for a year for her research on rising sea levels and it's effect on Arctic wildlife. Tate has been "bequeathed" with his garden and the task of keeping it alive until he returns the next summer.

To keep in touch they are mailing letters to each other about the garden and life (Tate) and the Arctic and life (Q). They will all contain poems.

So I hope you enjoy my blog!

Your elusive author,
PW                                                                                                                                                                                    

June 27th

Dear Quentin,


Having fun, way up there at the North pole? I really hope you're not reading this from a hospital bed  'cause you got mauled by a polar bear. Have you seen any yet?
It's the first day of break and- not fun. Your mom just had to move away in the summer. 


Q, I know you loved your garden and all, but you know that I can't garden at all. 'Bequeathing' it to me, really wasn't good judgement. I keep you updated though.


                 Daisies
             Bright Open
   Smiling Glowing Gathering 
Sunshine Ladybugs Faeries Ghosts
   Sliding Stretching Creeping
          Dark Mysterious
                    Ivy       


I don't know what's gonna happen
The Garden is Doomed, Q. Sorry.




Love
Tate.                                                                                                                                   
Diamante