Swallowing nectar from a whiskey flower,
Raining inside me like a summer storm shower.
A fire in full bloom burning with every sip,
Unfolding the silk petals of my sun kissed lips.
Eyes sink shut against the jukeboxes serenade
Vibes in lyrics mesmerizingly played.
Slow the seasons of my soul become exposed.
Fruit from the garden of Eden readily grows.
With every drink of courage, I ready my will,
A ticket to heaven, yet my heart beats still.
Numbers on a napkin, wrote in lust colored ink,
Experience pleads from the bottom of my drink.
Stung by the thorns of a whiskey flower, I bleed.
Dark are the droplets of unquenchable need.
The voice of a clock tells me it is time to go.
Stumbling into a darkness, many will never know.
Copyright © Casarah Nance | Year Posted 2014
When the orange edge of the sun rises
above silver tint hues of an endless horizon
I sway with silent elegance in the meadow of your heart
You 'd pick up all scattered petals from dusty pages of the past.
And there you find my concealed love...
It is then when you recall untainted colours of the promise
forgotten truths and everlasting us.
It is there where you blow softly your Spring breezes
in gardens of fragrant nights
So that in a tomorrow,this unpretentious margarita
would waft its aromatic scent
once more in those amorous deep-set eyes.
Slowly It falls untamed,innocent,and pure, like a child's dream
in the tight-pull of your never-leaving arms.
Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2017
The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes. Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death.
‘But what about the Green pens?’ I ask. They say ‘the ink is too hard to see.’
Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt | Year Posted 2013
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Withdrawn I wept lamenting the depart,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
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014
We seek out special flowers in the field,
That stand among the weeds in scarce array…
Quick pluck them from the thorns, a tiny yield,
Arrange them, stem by stem for our display.
Then serving on a table, shelf or sill,
Their fragrant beauty eases stress and strife,
While in the field, the crowded weeds will still
Meander on in wild pursuit of life.
The weeds grow dense and tangled in their clime,
Drink deep of soil and live for sun and rain,
While full, rich flowers, giving of their prime,
Will sooner wilt, their goodness spent for gain.
What's best to be—a carefree, rambling weed,
Or special flower, plucked to serve a need?
Sandra M. Haight
Premiere Contest: Contest No 219
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Contest: Screwed XI
Sponsor: Rob Carmack
Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2014
One crystal flower swelled in a garden,
standing with pride and beauty all day,
Bees tried to steal her nectar and taste.
One day, somebody's hand cut her stem,
this crystal flower stolen and taken away.
Each petal was scattered on the ground,
sparkling dimly, breathless and tired.
Days went by and all flowers bloomed.
A new day of spring burst with hope.
One morning, a gardener went to visit,
found scattered crystals covered in mud.
He picked each piece 'til he'd found each one,
brought them all home and polished.
He patiently glued every broken line,
until a new crystal flower arose.
His hands found a new paradise.
Though once was broken,
now stands purity and grace.
**5th Place Winner In Nette Onclaud's Contest: METAPHOR: CRYSTAL
Entry for: METAPHOR: Crystal Free Poetry Contest
of Nette Onclaud
written by:Aiyah De Torres
Second Language: English
Copyright © Aiyah de Torres | Year Posted 2014
Such a romantic place on a beach in Monte Carlo
Simple little things in life catching one's breath
Moonlight glinting of waves breaking off a white sandy beach
Faraway thoughts brown eyes crying in an ocean dream song
Spell of romance makes one forget the sense of anything
Silent whispers echoes binding our chain together tides speak
Do you remember the white doves that followed us along the beaches
Each link in your arm magic walks closer feelings sing inside a joyous choir enchants
Nature nurtured by the desire to fulfill dreams makes time stop
Holds deep sea emotions a galloping white steed races home in warm waves kiss
The natures mesmerizing perfume of fragrant flowers
Where destiny paints the joy in butterflies dance on a warm loving breeze
Such is the passion in the depths of ones soul
Jewels needle vision flies without wings heaven sings in a spiral coloring rainbows
No barriers closed no reasons withstand
The midnight moon shades blue embraced one shadow two become one dream
A co write written by Liam Mcdaid and Anne-Lise Andresen
Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2015
And flowers wilt.
And flowers fade.
The eternity is only in me-
The twig that bears the flowers.
Sparrows are born
And sparrows die.
And brighten the sky.
That who nurtures sparrows is me-
A cozy make of a twig upon a twig.
The sun fades
And moon is born.
The twilight blurs
And moonlight spreads.
All the soothing moonlight beams are me-
A crisscross of unfathomed twigs.
Whether in its birth
Or in its death;
In the heart
Of its heart;
The entire beauty is none but one-
A design of mysterious twigs.
Copyright © Suyash Saxena | Year Posted 2013
A requiem can faintly be heard
in the springtime breeze
as dandelion's morph from gold
blossoms to a crown of
seeds in downy tufts to begin their
airborne journey to
germinate and recreate with a drive
to survive even the
harshest weather, a plethora of
pesticides, and weeding.
Ah, can not the feminine form be
celebrated in comparison?
As her entourage of suitors lifts her
spirits to soar blissfully
until she establishes that one special
connection that causes
her bloom, that innate ineluctable
calling to mate and procreate.
Though trials, illness, and hardships appear,
future generations ineffably endure
in season's springtime, as love renews life.
May 4, 2016
Animus/Anima--Part 1: Anima - Poetry Contest
Sponsor Tom Quigley
Definition of anima:
NOTE: Just for the etymology of the word Anima dear, Connie! Anima, Animal, Animation and so on are words that come for the Greek word "Anemos" which in the Greek philosophy meant the divine wind which filled the universe and which wind "anemos" Man breathed in and became "Alive" animated!
-thank you for this Demetrios.
Note: I may have done this contest all wrong?
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2016
To define innocence in the
countenance of a child's smile
and love's eminence in wildflowers,
conceive infinity in exalted ocean's roar
whilst summer breezes glance splendor
flourishing jasmine and hummingbirds
amidst evermore expansive sunrises,
whence space and time ceases to exist
thereupon shall enlightenment dwell
Copyright © Paloma P | Year Posted 2016
color me in dandelion yellow
thumbing my nose at beauty’s pawns
intruder in the gardens of the mellow
mimicking the beauty of my dawns.
paint me in thick oils, richness deep
colors of wild howls, barks, and hoots
surrounded by the company I keep
anchored in the depth of wilding roots.
photograph me, center, tall and proud
rubbing petals with the hybrid mimes
silenced by the fear of being loud
paying homage to the price of beauty’s crimes.
draw me in the scrapbook of your mind
small fingers reaching out to feel
a gift to which the world grew slowly blind
the life that makes the dandelion real.
submitted to – Each one of us has His or Her won Flower of Attraction – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Rick Parise
Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2016
Roses are red,
violets are blue,
this flower bed,
is just for you.
Among the stone,
and in the mud,
a flower shone,
a beautiful bud.
It grew so tall,
proud and strong,
it learned all,
right and wrong.
Giving it water,
and warm sun,
your only daughter,
learned about fun.
Mommy come see,
look what I did,
now I can be,
a grownup kid.
This flower bed,
is just for you,
with roses, red,
and violets, blue.
Happy Mother's Day, Mom!
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014
As the time passes by season to season. I wait and wonder if this flower will ever grow. Planted so
many times what seemed to be the right place , but once again it was not right at all. Struggling to
blossom so it can show its color and beauty to the one that matters most of all. Thirsting for the warmth
of the sun , starving for the attention , not really asking for much at all. So many times it felt so right ,
but things would change so quickly in the middle of the night and all would be lost. Slowly it would wither
till there was no hope of blossoming one day. As the time passes by tears fill my eyes and there is nothing
left to say. I only know that this flower will grow , but not this way. It must be cared for and understood ,
loved and nourished so it will blossom and grow stronger , more beautiful then any flower you've ever known.
Will this flower ever grow? This is something I do not know. Sad as it may seem, it's even sadder to me , That I
am that flower that will never grow , didn't you know ?
Copyright © TIMOTHY CARTER | Year Posted 2013
The red rose may be beautiful or grand
Sensual even LOVELY. But still only a
THEN....I strolled the garden BLUE
I saw the INDIGO ROSE
The BLUEST I had ever seen
A TEASING picture of the
The blue ROSE is EXOTIC, she feeds
The WINSOME ROSE shame with
Professional precision on a petal plate
Of pleasing purity.
Shades of BRILLIANT blue FLASH ACROSS A MOVIE
SCREEN BLUE VIXEN SUPREME
She sends the entire garden into bland oblivion.
A blue diamond glimmering in a GOLDEN heaven.
All other roses WILT of envy clamoring at her
Heels with CONGESTED JEALOUSLY.
When I set eyes upon this ROSE it so inspired me
To see what had not been seen.
The INDIGO GARDEN and all its splendor
THE IMMEASURABLE SOUL OF THE
MAGNETIC practically hypnotizing
These are the INDIGO GARDEN guarded
Secrets I've been knowing
THE INDIGO WAY
ALWAYS THE INDIGO ROSE FOREVER
Copyright © VAL BROOKLYN Rogers BLK PANTHER | Year Posted 2015
The Silent Garden
Blowin in the breeze
I bob and bow and flex my leaves
I am a garden-- for all to admire
the one you visit often
You see my beauty,
I never say a word.
You could have visited
and enjoyed my genus,
but you plucked out the
strongest and most beatific.
As your wisdom showed itself sallow
next to the colors that emoted
from your emotions. Red all red.
Out of control you have
selfishly removed me.
Never do I recover;
As you Placed me in a vase,
with stale water and no sunlight.
I withered under your care.
Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2014
The Rose innocent white, soft pink, yellows
colors touch your soul vibrant red to amethyst
enhances beauty yet a thorn awaits to break skin
as life does piercing your heart with a thin pin.
My life has shed drops of blood through each petal
as if in return for the love and beauty you feel
hence pain underneath patiently waits the bloodletting ~
The rose symbolizes love yet vulnerable to hold
for when you open your heart it can be left bleeding
The best of surgeons can not beat your heart
It is the inner faith and God himself whom gives strength
whispers in your ear you shall live you will exist
your life meaningful as the water and sun to the rose
For I am your God your existence is not over yet .
You must Live ~You must Bloom
Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013
Its charm, its bloom
A gift of spring breeze
Something not oozing from heart
Something borrowed doesn’t last
Copyright © Mohammad Yamin | Year Posted 2013
Loves magic riddle, shepherds the flower,
blossoming elegance, land to sea.
I never knew, how that love grew,
until I laid eyes on Lucy Dee.
Blindly sifting through the hazy maze,
emerging aware, holding a key.
That fixed a hole, which filled my soul,
thanks to the love of Lucy Dee.
The force behind the forces of life,
made me question how to see,
Suddenly views, were less askew,
thanks to the insight of Lucy Dee.
Now I care not, for transparent fog,
or the rain that pours for weeks.
For the weather, never weathers,
the amorphous Lucy Dee.
When my petals finally wilt and wane,
storms bring me to weary knees.
The radiant shine, forever binds,
lucy’s light within me; and without,
by loves decree.
Copyright © Nicholas Rush | Year Posted 2015
strelitzias die -
shrunken birds of paradise
sag between green leaves
* It is now autumn in the Southern Hemisphere.
Strelitzia is a genus of five species of perennial plants, native to South Africa. A common name of the genus is bird of paradise flower.
Copyright © David De la Croes | Year Posted 2013
Although flowers bloom it’s awkward to say that they are flowers
because they are not flowers, but thorns disguised as yellow pistils
and stamens surrounded by the petals made of pieces of colorless
paper. Moreover, their fragrance bears no meaning at all because
they bloom in the night,
and each time when the scorching sun brands the cactus’ skin
it cries out loud from the pain of the thorns pierced through
it’s burning flesh to form renewed skin,
then, surprised by a heartrending cry,
the birds flap their wings to fly in the air abandoning the cactus.
However the birds may be, they only are lifeless drones
flying over a desert. And since they are lifeless, they
don’t know the meaning of life, and that’s why they only see
the thorny flowers standing open arms in the midst of the desert that is
filled with ashes of death—nuclear wastes, abandoned poisonous chemical
solutions polluted waters that drive lives to the edge of death.
To the saguaro cactus standing in the midst of man-made miseries,
nonetheless, dreamed to have an audience with
the mystic Queen of the Andes,
and in order for him to fulfill his dream,
to have a long journey toward the south moving along with the sun,
and then, after crossing the delicate line marked zero,*
climbing up the Andes for a higher ridge that is higher than the drone.
And as you go higher the wind starts to rise;
when the wind gets stronger to cut through the skin,
then saguaro’s thorns start to prick its own body from
and that is the time ripe for
the mystic Queen of the Andes to reveal herself
from the clearing fogs, behind the thick and heavy veil of clouds.
She appears in a dress embellished with tens of thousands of
not overly extravagant or pompous but graceful flowers that
She is the tree, immaculate and with inviolable dignity,
she bears the blooms in the serenity of the high and deep mountain.
Today too, the saguaro cactus under scorching sun dreams
a dream of seeing the elegant Queen of the Andes someday,
even afar it, stands as ever.
Enveloped in the cloud, though Queen hides her image
she has left her sweet scent behind,
in the sweet scent she left, the thorn flower saguaro stands
willing to wait another one hundred years to see her again.
*Zero: The Equator
Copyright © Su Ben | Year Posted 2015
Ishq Chhupta Nahi Chhupane Se
Log Kahte Hain Ishq Hai Wo Mushq
Par Wo Kahti Hai Jaanti Hi Nahi.
Copyright © Md. Parwez Alam | Year Posted 2015
Dewdrops visit blooms
at night and leave by daybreak:
A secret affair.
Copyright © Suresh Babu Palani | Year Posted 2011
I do not know?
My Wishes are Simple
My wishes are simple,
my desires few,
to gaze upon an ocean,
and marvel at a solitary drop of dew.
My wishes are simple,
my dreams not too grand,
to feel the waves teasing my tired feet,
with no footprints left in the cool, wet sand.
My wishes are simple,
my thoughts serenely gentle, calm,
my heart resting beneath a swaying palm,
healing my being, caressed by nature's soothing balm.
Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013
All yellow and big and radiant
Commanding a tiny city centre lawn
Looking top heavy and a little nervous
Bright smile at all the sullen passers-by
All too hot and hurried to notice her
Holding tightly to her pole
A tip-toe ballerina swaying minutely
A proud one-leg Masai with a spear
Looking directly in my eye and saying
You’ve never seen a flower before?
Too busy to stop and chat?
Ok, go on by, but remember -
This garden is mine, and I rule here.
Copyright © Sidney Beck | Year Posted 2014
(There was roast chicken too with potatoes and cheese, though in the picture not seen! Before the shot it had been gobbled up...)
A table laid and baskets heap'd,
Sheltered in the deep scented darkness of the trees;
The wild strawberries picked ripe in the elven woods,
Jam in the pots delicious sweet.
Wine's enchanted icy cold, tumblers filled up to the brim,
Been touched with specks of gold, poured from a bubbling spring.
At the foot of the hills, and dressed in black,
I stood there still, and a few yellow'd leaves.
Rising against the wind, a rose bloom twirls in the breeze;
Sends her perfume to the silver greens,
And to the far corners of the vale.
Under the lids, dripping dew from twigs, I watch
The rolling mist that hides her face,
And the forsaken wedding feast.
A shadow falls on her heart.
Beneath the tall oak her secret bed,
The flower simply drops to the earth,
And there it goes to sleep.
As the distant music, and the autumn wind from hills;
Fall into a hush, the final notes recede.
For Giorgio AV's : Ekphrasis Contest 01
Copyright © gautami phookan | Year Posted 2015
Is my life not tortured enough for you to see?
I am broken as can be.
My heart is torn.
My tears stain these perfect floors.
Why are singing with glee?
Why do you not care about my every plea?
I am trapped in your arms.
I am the hopeless moth.
How did you pick me?
What is it that you see?
A girl untouched by life?
A flower blooming in the desert?
I have said goodbye to my loving integrity.
You took that from me through R-A-P-E.
Copyright © Layla Elkoulily | Year Posted 2013
Sunflower sprouted happiness yet only just a weed,
a gardens hated nemisis this beloved bad seed.
Mimicking society using others resources to feed,
erected thick headed sunlight thief of greed...
Metaphorically speaking, this I do believe,
a sunflowered populace thrives to deceive.
Just as a flower unable to uproot and leave,
starving in the shadow behind this weed it grieves...
Copyright © Brian Davey | Year Posted 2016
As I climb the muse mountain,
I walk through the woods of words.
Sentences seep as melting snow into
the rushing rivers of the chime of ryhme.
Adventurous animals arch with alliteration,
with some nimbling on leaves, the lattice of letters.
I chase leaping lizards who hide limericks from me.
In exhaustion, I pause upon glossy grasses.
Irises ignite and incite my imagination,
while violets vacillate with verse.
Pansies provide me petals of a poem, while
poppies give me punctuation and proper grammar.
Meaningful moon mediates with metaphors, and
sun streaks and peaks with symbolism and stanzas.
Clouds clap communication to me, and I in this
wondrous universe began to rehearse my art.
Now home, I gleefully type like butterflies in flight.
Alas, I print the poem, feeling saturated and wholesome!
Copyright © Chantelle Anne Cooke | Year Posted 2015
There are some flowers I prefer the most
They have extraordinary qualities
With unique sizes grown from coast to coast
But they do have some similarities
One can't imagine just how soft they are
So sexually arousing to the touch
Their fragrances are sold in small bell jars
You'll find these flowers at weddings and such
Whenever I pass one I have to look
Can't help myself they are so beautiful
No one would ever press one in a book
No book that I know of is suitable
A woman is the flower I like best
What I like most about them, you can guess.
an original poem by Daniel Turner
not for contest
extraordinary- 5 syllables
Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2016
The bud like the young
Will age with time
And will grow with beauty
For us all to find.
Discover the gold
That the aged hold
Then watch very closely
And the bud will unfold.
Brenda Elizabeth Rose
Copyright © Brenda Rose | Year Posted 2016