{"id":137991037,"date":"2026-04-22T15:12:17","date_gmt":"2026-04-22T20:12:17","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/jahangiri.us\/2020\/?p=137991037"},"modified":"2026-04-22T15:31:37","modified_gmt":"2026-04-22T20:31:37","slug":"secrets-of-the-terrarium-day-19-20-of-national-poetry-month","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/jahangiri.us\/2020\/secrets-of-the-terrarium-day-19-20-of-national-poetry-month\/","title":{"rendered":"Secrets of the Terrarium: Day 19\/20 of National Poetry Month"},"content":{"rendered":"

Day 19\/20: National Poetry Month<\/h2>\n

Prompts include flowers, family, persona poems, and “No _____” Don’t tempt me with facile and childish responses, like “Flowers need fertilizer. No sh–”<\/p>\n

I remember making a terrarium, once. This was probably during the houseplant craze of the 1970s. I had some hanging plants – mostly of the hard-to-kill variety, like asparagus fern and tradescantia zebrini. Shefflera, jade, a withering African violet, too, I’m sure.<\/p>\n

Our yard was bordered on one side by a sunny yellow forsythia hedge and bisected, in the back, by white and purple lilacs. Flowering trees – redbud, pear, and apple – also thrived. In the front, we had tulips. My mother loved tulips and planted rows and rows of bulbs each spring.<\/p>\n

Hothouse Flowers, Whispering of Death<\/h2>\n

No hand to guide them towards the sun,
\nthe gardener’s gone, neglecting them.
\nEach slender stem, with thought and care
\nselected, serves as double agent\u2014
\nemissary of despair.
\nBlush sprigs of oleander shade
\nsoft sphagnum moss and yellow coltsfoot,
\ntucked within the killing confines
\nof a glass terrarium
\nsealed tight with lilac tears.<\/p>\n

Other National Poetry Month Posts<\/h2>\n