Since taking an allotment/garden over I've done a lot of digging and needed a lot of hot baths rather than economical showers. Lying in the bath recently, the thought occurred that heating the water for baths is a hidden cost of gardening, and that lots of activities must have hidden costs.

Does poetry have any hidden costs?

The pressures of fame, the endless paparazzi, what to do with the money, women throwing theirseves at your feet . . .

. . . and then waking up!

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

But I have promises to keep,

And Miles to go before I sleep,

And Miles to go before I sleep!

Spending hours in front of a
computer screen...
Very rarely to be seen
By the passing world outside
For all they know I could've died!
:-)

Solar Panels Voltaic ones help with any hidden cost. I also peer over my glasses to save wearing them out. Back problems! Sitting in a good posture helps tremendously. Buy lots of cheap coffee if you are a night owl. Tea makes you wee and that's loud in the quiet of the night - Knight - The expense of good dictionaries to keep up with those with vocabulary. KISS Keep It Simple and Sexy. Trips to the library to bone up on the any classics mentioned. Apart from these the bank acount's on freeze. Too much time spent and little earning leaves the wallet open to yearnings. Nick.

The guided lily and the faded rose,
The sunflower in its joyful pose,
The gardener's spade in stark repose,
- With pebbles, pots and broken woes.

Earth's rich treasures and all they yield,
With marigolds, daisies in fallow field,
A random landscape, like a vision sealed
- In my mind's eye a world revealed.

A deckchair where I can rest my bones,
A shady spot when nothing moans,
'Cept a bough above that softly groans,
"- A man is more that what he owns".

The bumble bee and the dragonfly,
White aspens trembling in the sky,
The ferns in the meadow where we lie,
And the sound of rustling leaves nearby.

All entertain my restless mind,
When quiet moments are hard to find.
From the weekly chores and the daily grind
And the manic folks I left behind.

Now I transcend to another time,
With ne'er a worry nor a crime,
Where words are found in splendid rhyme
Which make these memories so sublime.

Leonidas...lovely stuff! May I refer you to my verse "THE PROPERTY DEVELOPER" to remind us of the enemy at the gate..those who would pour concrete over anything for profit.

The depression when you find some topic written about that you meant to treat but someone got there first.
The sleepless hours spent searching every darned thesaurus for le mot juste - and still not finding it.
the frustration of laboriously
typing your latest creative work of art only to hit the wrong key and see it all disappear or rather, look up and find it is no longer on screen.
The bloody spellcheck that goes bananas when you enter nonsense verse comps... I could go on but I think I need to go and lie down in a dark room for a while.