TALES FROM THE GARDEN

Aiden Blyton

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Tales from my Garden is a collection of poems exploring the entanglement of identity and nature, written over the course of my university career.  

 

Song Of The Cicada 

This lyric poem interacts with themes of identity and transformation, inspired by my own transition at age 17.  

 

Snail 

A short free-form poem inspired by Sylvia Plath’s Mushrooms. 

 

Out Of Uniform 

This piece is a short ballad inspired by societies obsession with conformity, and the politics of survival.  

Song of the Cicada 

Endless darkness, earthen walls 

Deeper, deeper, the voices call 

Drink the roots, swell and burst 

An ancient dance, so well-rehearsed 

Dayless night, nightless day 

Deeper deeper, here I’ll stay 

Gnaw the roots, feed and wait 

Until I feel the pull of fate 

  

A nameless shift, a sudden urge 

Upwards, upwards, out and purge 

Climb the trunk, rise and shine 

Not long until the stage is mine 

  

I feel the sun, I feel the breeze 

I hunker down, feel my shell freeze 

I spend the night upon this bough 

Bide my time, not long now 

  

Old skin is split, and I am born 

White and wrinkled, like lace torn 

Stretch and open, spread my wings 

On my stage I start to sing 

 

 

Snail 

Beneath the moon 

The pilgrim heaves 

His hollow burden 

As hunger guides 

His careful foot 

Marking his path 

With silver stars 

 

 

Out of Uniform 

‘Your lawn needs mowing,’ my neighbour says 

Sneering at the weeds 

His uniform green velvet grass 

Grown from thirsty seeds 

 

Its snaking choking tendrils twist 

Greedy roots dig deep 

Routinely butchered blades persist 

Where little else does creep 

 

I cast my gaze to my own lawn 

But do not share his thought 

I quite enjoy my grass unshorn 

Wild and weed-wrought 

 

Above my tangled garden bed 

Pokes Dandelion’s face 

Once golden hair upon his head 

Now whiskers fine as lace 

 

Beside him sits sweet Violet 

Her face heart-shaped and small 

With beauty all others covet 

Resumes her spreading crawl 

 

Who could forget sharp Nettle 

With her silver pointed hands? 

Who could deny her mettle 

Or the caution she commands? 

 

The other plants that I let grow 

Are endless in their worth 

From bud to root, from tip to toe, 

They’re welcome in my turf 

 

Who chooses what are plants or weeds? 

Who should die or thrive? 

For those that we all know as weeds 

Are plants who learned to survive 

ab.jfif

My name is Aiden Blyton (he/him) and I am a third year Creative Writing major with an interest in the intersection between visual art and writing. I write poetry and short stories, often interacting with themes of queer identity, nature, and gothic horror. For this year’s Arts Festival, I have prepared a selection of poems written over my university career, and am co-hosting a poetry workshop in hopes of sharing my love of the form. I have struggled to find inspiration in Melbourne’s lockdowns, and have experienced a shift of focus from writing to visual art. I have used this time to develop my portfolio, which I will continue to use to seek a tattoo apprenticeship following the end of lockdown. The pandemic has encouraged me to be kinder to myself and my work, and to ensure above all, that writing is something to be enjoyed.   

 

Instagram: @aidenblyton