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See also: Best Famous Poems

Details | Flower Poem | |

flowers for Chinaski


I quickly grew tired of poems about
the supposed gentleman who wanted
to turn his gal into a flower.

I thought about what it might be like 
to be turned into a 
flower --

maybe domesticated in a garden 
first, then plucked

or plucked straight from the wild.

Stuck into a vase
on display for people to watch you 
slowly wither.
People admiring you 
with punctuated looks of sentiment,
sniffing you while they watch you
die.

By chance
someone might press you into a book
to preserve you for later admiration,

only able to touch you like a 
gentleman,
so your petals don't disintegrate into dust.

Nah, I would rather she be a 
woman,
have her petals embrace me.

She might try clawing out my eyes with rage 
and slam the kitchenette 
in just that way I can't stand,

before we cuddle together,
an ashtray between us
smoldering with the stacks of Pittsburgh or
Chicago or Buffalo City.

And even if the blue light flickering off the walls 
can't fill all the empty spaces 
in our hearts,
at least we chose to be there

and lived.

Lived beyond 
living for the sole purpose
of dying to look good in the casket,
only to be pressed into a mausoleum.
____


When the time comes,
I want my corpse to feed
the forces that don't give up
fighting against contrived,
manicured lawns --
that don't stop fighting to break through 
concrete city slabs
with the faces of dandelions and chickory,
blossoms exploding
into bright ruckus

while making love to the sky.



April 7th, 2014




“i am with the roots
of flowers
entwined, entombed
sending up my passionate blossoms
as a flight of rockets
and argument...."

-- Charles Bukowski,
"The Roominghouse Madrigals: Early Selected Poems, 1946-1966"




+/-

Details | Flower Poem | |

flowers for Chinaski -- part ii

part ii


There was a time
when I wanted to be one of them,

to somehow fit in
with the fancy rituals
of their high society.
But the da-Dumb, da-Dumb, da-Dumb
made me want to puke,
made me want to bounce my head 
off the table, hopefully causing the bone china
and forks
to add clatter to their snobbish 
symphony.

Words like "gossamer" 
flitted around the room,
word so thin but veiled 

and distant,

even the candle light appeared
to shy away from those dry wings.

The snobs talked about how
I was too simple with words.
They did so with such a simple, 
small-mindedness,
the irony provided oxygen for flame
to devour.

And the critics proclaimed that
I wasn't able to love,
when really, I just wanted to get away
from them, 
smoke a cigarette in peace
while hitchhiking back to my chubby cherub,
feel her belly fall and rise against my skin.

I was finally able to love,
and she died.

The previous pain had been for show:
"Look at the drunk ham
feeling sorry for himself."

But when she died,
I distilled tears
into a different type of proof.
I was no longer willing to be
their carnival attraction
placated under the table,
listening to them upstage each other.

When I was able to stand again,
a cold, sharp thing was birthed in my mind,
and 
I wanted to shoot them all between the eyes,
splatter their degrees and deeds 
with their blood and brains.

I found peace though -
stopped wanting to be one of them.

I found peace
away from their chatter
about what to carve on their headstones
or what type of fancy imported granite
their mausoleums should be constructed of.

I found peace in readying myself to be 
consumed by 
roots,
to be perspired into the open, fathomless sky --
the same deep blue as the bird 
who finally pecked his way
through the rusted cage of my heart,

freeing us both.



April 12th, 2014



“i am with the roots
of flowers
entwined, entombed
sending up my passionate blossoms
as a flight of rockets
and argument...."

-- Charles Bukowski,
"The Roominghouse Madrigals: Early Selected Poems, 1946-1966"



+/-

Details | Flower Poem | |

Haiku Collection-Flowers For Friends

Carnation

Summers sensations
Promising pastel colors
Cozy carnations

___________________________________

Roses

Drinking every drop
Where the love goes it follows
Rain bows to roses

________________________________

Dandelion

Spring has treasures told
Gently birthed from the first rain
Dandelion gold.
___________________________________

Lily

When summer sun seeps
Lily of the valley sleeps
Rise in the midnight
__________________________________

Tulips

The talk of the town
Whispers of wild affairs
Tulips are silenced
______________________________________


Pansies

Eye popping pansies
Extravagant explosions
Playfully perfect
___________________________________

For all the flowers of the world, beauty
takes many shapes and colors, open
your petals, embrace the sun, and thrive!




For JAN~~

Where are the Orchids?
I have never seen one bloom.
They're all in Jan's room!!



08-13-2014

Details | Flower Poem | |

TO THE FLOWER

TO THE FLOWER Your scent beckoned my weeping heart to painless flight; amidst a garden where God dusts His pretty love. Spring tints are pure and fragrant, free of guise. Your hues painted another sunrise for my eyes; when once I failed to catch the pledge of morn. A seed of hope was born to white petals blush. Though there are silhouettes of bitter yesterdays must all the phantoms of illusions fade and leave...? Your floating aroma stirred and shot my nerves; inspiring a nightingale to sing some joyous laments; It swayed with grace to dance on wind's despotic beat. among the rustling leaves which hug the earth below; So like the sun, which from distant horizon smiles; it roused the sleepy world to begin the pen of baby prose. The unfolding mystery of your petals brought my bewildered mind to peacock's reflection. Alas! All was transient. These eyes probe beneath but were blinded by the intrusion of some stray shine; Ambitions which from afar are building sprout; t'is that which let this self to irksome doubt. Lovely blossom of the wild, this sojourner nigh to tame your perfume's sweet stinging scent. A restless soul by some wicked, destiny pokes; someone called--- but pity, I couldn't tell a note. If by magic, a butterfly I could become; Let it be over my being slowly span. Then with you (though the specters in our midst are fierce), I could jet fly though miseries without fear. But am just a mortal of faith that blows this wish for only covenants call for my journey still? I cannot be forever the one who would share your sweetness; (Harken, fairies of blooms, this wilderness is not my lair.) I shall not want to witness you wilt as no time left to stay. Never again will you see me at day-break's bloom, save something special for others to experience you. This fleeting apparition I so adored; promised me burgeoning petals. "Be not afraid as seasons change, beyond today, I won't be here to see that no harm be done with all intentions to your sacred charm. As today, I leave you to Mother's Nature tender care, for I must go to some greater musing-- heaven's ground. Wilt not, as soon the rain will dash, refreshing you my dear. If I return someday-- will your sublime scent still be here?" Inspired by Susan Seddon Boulet's painting: -----http://media-cache-cd0.pinimg.com/236x/1d/c4/37/1dc437f88c0cfb2fbcc9333bd35bb8c3.jpg © Olive Eloisa Guillermo October 20, 2014 10:19 pm Contest Name Free Verse, Prose Poetry, haibun Sponsor Debbie Guzzi 2nd place

Details | Flower Poem | |

Night-Blooming Jasmine

Night-Blooming Jasmine
expert seducer with soft silky lips, silver blue moon sweetly kisses a slumbering beauty awakening desire; greeting her lover, Night-Blooming Jasmine unfolds perfumed petals

Details | Flower Poem | |

The Flower -part one-

“A Flowers Wilt”	

Witness the small existence 
that abides the beauty of-----------
Freelancers all around,
Just to get a good look.

A baneful abrasion, the flower took
It captivates you -------------
Reels you, steals from you, 
WAITING, 
Until you pick the right flawless touch.

Dandelions swaying thin,
Here we fall like petals.
Ready to exploit, the beauty of-------
Inhale the fragrance,

Courtyard azure eyes, 
Embarking in a wishful eternity,
A crush they become, when loveliness up and left. 
A bully against arrogant, threw feminine perfumed veils
Tulips waiting for the better auspicious’ sky
Asters claims the eclipse's,
-dinginess censors it from the brilliance of the sun.
~
A lonely rose
In My Helix World-
The out-and-out are born.
Cries in the dimness, 
A sweet Lotus echo’ 
Slight yelps of agony, carried off by pollen breeze.
The earth revolves to fast,
Injections of herbal essence in the wind
For a split second, we feel pixie dust
Channel the essential, it fades
Earlier beauty, calmness-
A flourish smile,
Rusk of flower, a bluebird’s bread.

Like candles and dew, they stream and limber energy
Opposing others of its humanity, 
Against the command of its importance,
Pierced by its own elegance,
Thriving slowly of its own will, 
A short story, gone stray!
Tonight, we plant a tree, 

The Flower wilts
The gardener cries


By;PD

Details | Flower Poem | |

Without Hope's Gleam

The flower that is given little light tastes not enough of joy and cannot thrive - then fades away like dusk into the night. The soul who struggles just to stay alive - much like the flower wilting in the dark - tastes not enough of joy and cannot thrive. How can a fire be lit if there’s no spark? Without hope’s gleam, the soul will waste away - much like the flower wilting in the dark. This is the plight of one whose world is grey: Though others say a paradise exists - without hopes gleam, the soul will waste away. A man upon this earth who tastes no bliss is like a soul brought low who droops his head though others say a paradise exists. How sad that someone rather would be dead! The flower that is given little light is like a soul brought low who droops his head, then fades away . . . like dusk into the night. Written 11/15/12 For the "Hope" Poetry Contest of Craig Cornish and now for the contest of Nathan A

Details | Flower Poem | |

The First Bloom

You wonder why, my love
These memories flitter in the hallways of my mind
Knocking on the door
of every room
Where I’ve hung
Do not Disturb Signs
For I don’t want to remember you
My Paradise Lost and yet….

Oh, you wonder why, my love
I still rise to open the door
Why I fling them open wide
When each memory comes calling
Why I let them come inside
And sit here at my table
While I play the gracious host
As I listen to each memory repeat
The love story I love most...

You wonder why, my darling
I sit in rapt attention
Dabbing at a tear
While I smile
A sweet smile of remembrance
As one by one
They kiss my cheek in greeting

They all sit around me
Each one vying for my attention
These sweet memory guests
Are there to make sure
The visions are ever fresh
And so one runs his fingers through my hair
I close my eyes
Giving in to his ministration
But he couples it with kisses on my nape
To keep me awake
For he remembers the times
When your fingers playing with my hair
Would entice my eyelids to close
So the kisses he keeps coming
Preparing me
For what is to come...

The other memory holds my hand
Caressing tenderly
Making love to my fingers with his own
Intertwining and releasing
Whispering in my ear
In husky whispers of love
And I melt
I melt
At the resonance of his voice
The memory of enticement
The Prelude

I gaze down to look into the eyes
Of the memory guest sitting at my feet
I see there the devotion
Of someone at a shrine
As he looks up into my eyes
His hands on either side of me
His palms caressing my legs
Kissing as he goes along….
They are preparing me 
For the memory that has been waiting at the door

He watches intently
My favorite memory
There just inside the room of my mind
Of my wildest fantasies
He has been here before
He has been here often
What nights those were
What days
When he would ravish me
Till I could hardly breathe
Fatigued and spent
In the aftermath of his
Love storm

Now he stands
And though I try to rise
To close the door
I’m held back by the others
Whispering all around me
"Let him in
Let him come in."

A smile plays on his lips
As he sees me weaken
His devouring eyes take in my form
I feel the heat of his gaze
As his eyes feast on me
In my revelry of love
And at his signal
The other memories quietly leave

I look at him shyly
As he draws the filmy dream curtains tight
Blocking out the light of reality
Blocking out everything but his entity
He walks over to me
Stopping to light scented candles
Stopping to make me feel
His close proximity
He is near

He looks down at me
Claiming me before even one touch
"I’ve come my passion flower
I’ve come again to make you bloom
Like that first time
That first time
You opened up to me."

And then he is here kneeling at my feet
Undressing me
His breath hot on my breast
His hands gently probing
His mouth tasting
His tongue teasing
His fingers...pleasing
"You are altogether beautiful"
He whispers 
And I can only sigh
As the memory of that first bloom
Comes alive in my mind
And he takes me again
Takes me
Like that first time
When I discovered
What it means
To find release
Quivering on the edge of
Eternity
Suspended in time
As I give in 
And let the streams flow
Falling free
Falling
Like the tears that fall
Glistening on my rosy cheeks

And as I lay spent in the silence
Of my own dark and dreary room
Savoring the fragrance of my memory
My memory of you
My first sensual dawn
My first taste of the heady mix
Of pleasure and pain
I know I must rise
To close the door of my mind again
This time I will lock it
This time, I will throw away the key
But the memory of that first bloom
Will find a way
To visit me again….
Oh, my love
For I cannot forget you
And that very first time
You made me...
***BLOOM***

Eileen Manassian

Details | Flower Poem | |

Starstruck in your deep Beauty

In your beauty, striking jewels within your light 
If I where to go into another world 
Searching behind each and every fold 
Wrapped up inside my mind 
There is a never ending vision, of thought 
Over half of it one forgets 
in a short space me not 

Flowering time one stands out striking 
It draws from the gentle wishing well 
inside the rainbow colors her 
all shades of a promise 
sprinkling softly in her mist 

The heart began singing music to me 
as the soul saw your guiding light 
I would never break your heart love 
one silent promise, made into oneself 
at that very moment in time 

I felt it 
so very special 
remembering the sweet pretty birds in song 
Magic capturing that very moment 
our souls inside out sharing 
When the heart fell at your feet 
it was truly amazing 

You're my dove wings 
sweetly touching 
Flying this heart deeply in love 
with your peace the drunken spirit is floating 
intoxicated in your space 
falling softy emotions swoon 
Savoring feelings explode outside reality 
your amazing beautiful in my eyes 
dazzling the mirrors of dream

Details | Flower Poem | |

Ode to beauty-w

strophe

I stand on the snow covered mountain
Colorful vase of flowers
Slopes  with flower beds laden
I saw the snow lotus flowers
I asked, “Why are you all alone here?
Beauty is meant to be adored.
Should give yourself to somebody
Before your petals fall to dust soon, dear.
What if I crushed your petals, I asked
As at these heights, you are quite lonely”..

antistrophe

One of the flowers quickly responded
“I enjoy the shelter of blue skies.
I would be too glad
If you choose  to crush my petals
My fragrance will spread everywhere.
Fulfilling the purpose and duty
If destroyed, not admired.
By plucking my petals, remember
You won’t gather my beauty,
Beauty is to see, not to be plucked'.

epode

“O’ lotus, you teach wisdom to man
Praise her beauty, don’t destroy her. 
It is the gladdest thing under the sun
Touch a hundred flowers not pick ever”
O’ man, pluck not wayside flower even 
It is the traveler’s dowers.
Silently a flower blooms alone
And in silence it falls down
If I am worth many pleasures,
I think I am too few then”.

===================================
June 15, 2014
Form : Ode
First Place win in
Contest: My favorite poem by Carol Eastman
===================================
Form: Ode (the Homostrophic or Horatian Ode)
Rhyme scheme: ABABCDECDE (Ten lines)
Second place winner in
Contest: Ode sponsored by Jared Pickett

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
This is the  English Ode, also called the Homostrophic or Horatian Ode. 
The Romantic Ode often followed the Irregular Ode's structure 
and the Homostrophic Ode's meditative quality.
====================================

The poem also won the second place in the International Poetry
Contest of 2011 by Poetry Soup.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Details | Flower Poem | |

Goodbye, My Child

Where cradled canyons sing
Of ebony wood in the forest
There lies a gurgling spring
Where cockcrows sing their chorus
To the melody of singsong birds
There I’ve concealed my sensuous words
Filled with befitted signs
The saccharine whiff of my designs

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Where the fogs of night are fountains
Spills of glistened moon ignite
By distant silhouette mountains
We dance with passion of fight
Entwining ancient stance 
Mingling hand in hand we dance
Till the mountains smile on high
Near and far we spring
To pursue the realest of dreams
While the world cries at its seams
Anxious in trouble to cling

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

To where the ridges merry make 
From the beaks of wooden bright
In sparkly pools the ghouls awake
That scarce to stir our night
We watch for seekers down under
Muttering secrets in their soul
We bid them lucks of shivers
Dipping gently in
From reeds that hide a tear of a foal
Under the gentle rivers

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Far away she shall ever churn
The taciturn eyed
She’ll listen no more to turn
To the working mills beside
Or the scrubbing of the barn
May peace weave in her song
She shall wave in the yarn
To a haven known as Belong  

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

For she comes, the mortal youth
To the wild realm of her truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only her tears be found


Details | Flower Poem | |

June Bells Flowering under the Trees

June Bells Flowering under the Trees --------------------------------------------- Scarce had it rain'd -- blue hued drops showering down; in the witching hour I rode, where the earth is overrun by weeds, yellow fringed with black-eyed-susans; trees overhung with wild cherries. Pacing past the sequester'd glen, following the trail where tall beeches grow: long sleeved and long limb'd; and leaves falling in curling frills. Soon turning round a winding bend, a field of dripping june bells; I sighted them, a thousand and more in blue slippers scatter'd wide. Seated myself on a moss cover'd stone, as one aptly does after a long ride. Somewhere beats an earthly heart, someone breathes a heaving sigh; Eyes turn to the darken'd clouds hanging by, and to the lowering skies; then far to the place where airy spirits roam, and to the sepulchred ground where unruffled I lie in my grave, under the tufts of june bells. .. For the contest: "Appreciation (In Honour of PD)" Sponsored by Abdulhafeez Oyewole Written on 4/23/2013

Details | Flower Poem | |

Rose of thorns

Rose of thorns

The crimson hue became a thorn and everlasting blossom
- its imaging was tho' entombed inside his convolutions
so braving bloomed the pasture was, forever his and blithesome;
the fine drops dropping, turned to be the moistening ablutions.

Amid the shadows of the dusk, the myrtle mauve enhances
the passing of the veil that dark descends and hides the ridges;
while the eternal rose of thorns, that agitates and dances,
his crimson solitude embraced and life, amidst the breezes.

Aeonian, the blooming rose, his destiny reverses;
the jagged reasoning of thorns and emptiness that signals
consequently becomes a tomb, betimes chivalric verses
while in the rain dilutes and flows along the windy fiddles.

© 03-22-2014, G. Venetopoulos, All Rights Reserved
(Iambic Decapentasyllabic verse)
(new poem)

Sponsor: Kelly Deschler
Contest Name: Every Rose Has It's Thorn
Deadline: 4/20/2014

Details | Flower Poem | |

Flirty Sunflowers

Flirty Sunflowers
sultry sunflowers stretch long necks to kiss the sun … on tippy tiptoes

Details | Flower Poem | |

The Scent of Your Soul

The scent of your feelings clings 
To the fabric of my dreams
It never leaves….it lingers
Lingers
Permeating everything
The scent of your feelings
Envelopes me

The fragrance of gardenia
When you are tender, sweet
Gentle and serene 
Tranquility showing through
In the gardenia scent of you

Seducing scent of jasmine
Surrounds you like an aura
Heavy, heady
Promising opulent luxury
Of flesh upon flesh
With you in control
Leading me deeper
Into the scent of your fantasies
Tantalizing, teasing, tempting
Endless jasmine ecstasy
Sensual and satiating
Is the jasmine scent of you

Perfumed in Damask Rose
Giving off the scent 
Of inner turmoil
Uncertainty, vulnerability
You are brooding and troubled
Guarded, disturbed
Needing to be reassured
Held in the strength of my arms
Quieted by my love
Till dawn’s light
When your safety is assured
And your scent finds release
Along with that of mine

Honey suckle perfume
Your need to nurture
To let me suckle
At your breasts
Your perfume speaking
In words my soul hears
That you live only
To care for my needs
Your perfumed hands
Soothing way the aches and pains
Of my rough and busy day
Honey suckle promises
Of womanly affection
In waves of comfort and light
I taste honey
Nectar that sweetens my lips
For I know it flows for me
I know I am nothing
A poor lost man
Without the fragrance of honey suckle
Wafting over me

Narcissus emotions
When there is venom in your eyes
Sparks fly all around me
And I know a storm is coming
A scent foreboding
Ominous…
Indicating the imminence
Of the unleashing of thunder and lightning
Torrents of rain
The scent of angered passion
I sense it
I smell your brewing storm
I’m unleashed in the elements
And yet….I know
How to harness your storm
How to bring calm
How to let you vent in my arms
Beat at my chest
I silence you with a kiss
Your arms pinned
The anger passes
Yet your 
Narcissus scent
Left on my chest
Leaves me shaken
Unglued
Weak
In the aftermath
Of your storm

Orchid emotions
The perfume of surrender
Absolute abandon to my will
The sweetest fragrance
The tenderest emotion
A wilting flower
Waiting to be revived
Tenaciously wrapping around my body
Knowing its source of life, love, and happiness
Your scent moves me
Brings out my desires
To possess
To please and reward
To bring color to your petals
By my life giving stream
Lost in this scent
The most beautiful of all
The scent of surrender
To me

The scent of your emotions...
Your soul
Clings to my being
Promising
A perfumed eternity
In your arms

For Anthony Slausen's Scent of Your Soul Contest

Details | Flower Poem | |

Global Warming

As I wake up to the dawn of another day
I wrestle with myself and ask why bother
Just another day, without any warmth
There is a chill in my heart, sadly this is true

The coffee pot sings, an attempt to lift spirits
I confess I welcome even this small endeavor
A machine trying to cheer me up,
In this a cold cold cold world

How can this be?
Me so thirsty and cold?
I hypnotically prepare for another day
As I curse Al Gore

I see you all scurry from here to god knows where
Curious I ponder what’s the rush?
Snow falls from a dreary sky
A blanket of white to chill us even more

A child romps happily in springtime meadows
Chasing butterflies and dreams
His heart now filled with Vodka Ice
How did such warmth turn into an ancient glacier?

In the subway deep underground
I see a stranger, a woman, tears falling
Icicles form under her eyes
She too has a frozen heart

I would hug her, with words of comfort
If not for the invisible cold barrier between us
We are many on this subway of desire
So close, yet we all feel the northern winds of loneliness

This world of love and compassion has become frozen
We have forgotten the season of spring
We have been frozen out of emotions garden
We shiver here in the cold together alone

I rise up from the subways depths
I know my heart was murdered by the arctic winds
Something inside of me , cries
Go Go Go melt something, anything

I pass the newsstand selling flowers
I buy one single rose
The woman with icicle tears is nearby
I hand her this rose

I whisper, what this planet needs
Is some global warming
She smiles a sad thank you
As I walk away, hoping 

Global warming takes hold

Details | Flower Poem | |

The Little Flower

               In the same garden, side by side, two flowers began to bloom,
               One, small and fragile, knew her life would be over soon.
               The other, a boisterous rose, felt far superior to her friend
               For she knew that she would live to see the stars and moon   
               Straight through to summer's end.
              
               The little flower did not have the heart to tell her 
               That longevity can bring pain,
               For who would be there to protect her from the elements, 
               The blistering sun and numbing rain.
               Or perhaps an overzealous lad would clasp her in his grip
               And pluck her petals one by one just for the fun of it. 

               And as the rose rambled on and on about all the delights she'd see
               The little flower closed her eyes to dream contentedly.

Details | Flower Poem | |

Flowers on a Path

I follow the path of flowers that’s near Each one a little different than the next I desire to be close, with petals dear Their blossoms are fancy and quite complex Each one a little different than the next I can smell their fragrance in the calm air Their blossoms are fancy and quite complex There’s not a bit of dismay nor despair I can smell their fragrance in the calm air There is peace and tranquility about There’s not a bit of dismay nor despair Living things they are, I sure will not pout There is peace and tranquility about I kneel down to pluck one up off the ground Living things they are, I sure will not pout The flowers, though loud, are the best around I kneel down to pluck one up off the ground The flower is red, that’s full of beauty The flowers, though loud, are the best around I’ve been blessed to see them actually The flower is red, that’s full of beauty I desire to be close, with petals dear I’ve been blessed to see them actually I follow the path of flowers that’s near
Russell Sivey

Details | Flower Poem | |

Birds of Paradise

Birds of paradise bloom and fall like a shooting star, Red ones are juxtaposing lips when wrens are kissing; Brilliantly gliding from huge foliage seen from afar. They marvelously stand and hung on where they are, In kaleidoscope of colors, they’re all glistening; Birds of paradise bloom and fall like a shooting star. Their lasting freshness is a blessing from the altar In orange, yellow, red and purple- they’re all amazing; Brilliantly gliding from huge foliage seen from afar. Their dazzling beauty is the sweetest song that soothes my scar In its various colors, red with yellow is the best hymn I’ll sing Birds of paradise bloom and fall like a shooting star. Ambling along an avenue of those flowers quite so far As if leading into the vista of paradise –the most wonderful feeling Brilliantly gliding from huge foliage seen from afar. Bestowing its enchantment to someone may ward off war Red gears for a blazing love , yellow for unwavering spirit of sharing Birds of paradise bloom and fall like a shooting star Brilliantly gliding from huge foliage seen from afar.
June 30, 2013 10.40pm ©2013by Leonora Galinta All Rights Reserved Fourth Place Contest: Good Poems Judged: 8/8/2013 Sponsor: Great Poet, Nathan A

Details | Flower Poem | |

The Traveler and The Rose

A strange blue rose - alone
midst an array of clustered flowers -
a few of them her friends -
the shy violets, lovely white lilies, and bold marigolds.
In the gracious garden spot the traveler singled her out -
his gaze resting admiringly upon her.
Each day as he passed that spot,
she was the one he sought. . . 

And day by day the traveler came around,
speaking through the fence softly in sweet sounds
that wafted her way with the wind.
Persistent wasp, in guise of a honeybee,
he tried so hard to wear that flower down. . . 
till unexpectedly, he strode right through the gate,
and blissfully ignorant of a rose's care,
plucked her up, swept her high up into the air,
and uprooted that blue rose from her safe soil.

But he did not a gardener make.
Knowing nothing of roses,
he knew very little of any flower he pursued.
Moreover, one mere blue rose cannot long compete
with the other bright fanciful flowers
which, along that traveler's path, he was sure to meet.

Those soft whispered words
that caressed her blossomed cheek
soon ceased.
And the water to her soul (if a rose has a soul,
he did not care to know), stopped its flow. 
Scars he left -
new thorns on her stem that grew outward
from his cruel cut, 
but she'd go on. . . . 

Long time replanted now in solid refuge ground,
the strange blue rose
has gained self-understanding,
that one thing for himself (she imagines)
which the traveler she so briefly knew
has never found.


Details | Flower Poem | |

In the Harem of the Flower Kisser

at the break of dawn a Hummingbird starts his rounds Morning Glory sought flaunting a red hue - Mexican Sunflower tempts looking hot, hot, hot the Don Juan of birds sucking nectar from Beardtongue. . . drunk on French kisses Goldenrod at noon. . . Zephyr carries a sweet scent beneath a gold sun between Rose bushes the Flower Kisser gets lost in Blue Infinity Sweet Pea and Bee Balm entice with purple petals. . . Bees join the orgy Monarchs swarm in droves when blue Hummingbird alights on Butterfly Bush Evening Primrose waving in the dusk’s last breeze. . . the proper lover the Flower Kisser leaves his harem sated as white Moonflower glows By Andrea Dietrich *The capitalized names for flowers represent some of the most popular flowers visited by hummingbirds.

Details | Flower Poem | |

Magnolias


erased to try and get it published

Details | Flower Poem | |

Red Roses Fade To Black

Red velvet petals, only I, seduce,
With hidden danger under the disguise,
My fingers feeling shyly, I reduce,
Thorns sharpen, ready, waiting the unwise.

Before me, bleeding poison, I assume,
This flower withered, shriveled the entire,
A dark extracted substance, the perfume,
No beauty, only sorrow, I admire.

Withdrawn I wept lamenting the depart,
A rosebud, crimson, youthful, I erased,
A lifeless flower, never I impart,
nor taken with affection, I embraced.







Written by Kelly Deschler  October 23rd, 2014





Details | Flower Poem | |

Canyons Cold and Dark

She dwells in deep canyons cold and dark
To ponder a mystery that haunts her soul
That leaves confusion and doubts in heart
The loss of confidence now takes its toll

To ponder a mystery that haunts her soul
That renders sleepless hours through the night
The loss of confidence now takes its toll
A flower slowly dying withers in sunlight

It renders sleepless hours through the night
The days are shortened and she wastes away
A flower slowly dying withers in sunlight 
Her sweet fragrance lost, forever and a day

The days are shortened and she wastes away
What could be this wrong which she has caused?
Her sweet fragrance lost, forever and a day
To fully grasp this puzzle she requires pause  

What could be this wrong which she has caused?
What pain has she laid upon your heart?
To fully grasp this puzzle she requires pause 
She dwells in deep canyons cold and dark
~*~

By:     Audrey Carey
Note:  For Paula Swanson's "Pantoum" Contest

Details | Flower Poem | |

Rose of Annamarie

Collecting the colors of nature,
the yellow, the blue and the green.
From the top of the stair,
I see a color so rare,
I go into the garden to see.
A snap-shot in my mind,
of the color I’d find,
just as my mind’s eye took it…
I continue my quest,
searching everywhere lest,
the dim light of dawn overlooks it.
I spy a fresh rose,
with petals of red,
I pick it not-
but admire instead.
It’s splendor and color,
at times wild and free,
are all reminiscent
of Annamarie…
Copyright © 2013