Best Bed Of Flowers Poems
An aged rusty bed
and two pairs of worn out shoes
A clear sign of human presence
and we wonder at the life that was here
The umbilical cord that binds us to the past
Was everything genuinely better in "the old days" ?
14/05/2021
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Poem Of The Day -15/05/2021
One individual called "she" stepped into the sheets of a life story
Sheets that used to be occupied
She walked back and stopped at a chapter which tell the story of an obsolete chamber
A space which stands for behalf of the memory and wounds
A diorama played by shadow
A story with no beginning nor end
They've been there with decent backgrounds and decent light spectrum but called gray
The view was frozen, the chatter was muted, and that feels fell into the melancholy
Those with the outstretched hands which too high to be reached
Those with the self existence but too blind to be seen
They abandoned as a figure of reserves without knowing the essence of a solace
And that individual creature went on her way back to the labyrinth of time
This time someone seized by the story of a root baste
Those roots were heart in shape and the hue carved a warmth, but once howled a bitterness
This chapter tells the story of a lush tree with the fruit of love
Fruits that contain the complexity of love, passion and a place to berth
And the fruit of love revealed its story to someone
Those who hide behind their false mannerism had carved their name on her shoulder
Those who have offered their hearts and bent on their knees
Those who play fire in a lust, fell into a seek
But the love that she wants still unable to cover the part of this story
From the fruit of love to the sheet's of light
This chapter tells the story of an old house with extensive bed of flowers
This house represented the aesthetics, peace and harmony
A house which brings relief, spaciousness and joy
In that house she knelt, release all her mess
To the house the journey was anchored
In every sketches that have been through
None could live without the presence of others too
Obsolete chamber, lush love tree, beautiful bed flowered old house
Those who were involved in each story of the bulkhead of life
Those who were crawling along and came from different angles of infinity
Those who were instantly filled the pieces of shoot and became the shoot
They are the perfect gift for the imperfect souls
Not as a complement nor as a reserves
Yet as the major part of the heartwarming life story
our hearts were once joined,
now apart the degrees
of separation are burning,
my wounds are weeping
there is no other day
judgment came yesterday
Autumn leaves began their journey
as my night was laid to rest
the walls started falling down
scattering the Rose of Sharon
a bed of flowers to die in
a place to lay my weary head
I can no longer go walkabout
black smoke is streaming
a signal, all is not well
there is only one reality, now
tomorrow has yet to come
yesterday is already history
I must savor these last
moments, sucking in each drop
in desperation I prayed for hope
for the will to fight again
but also for the strength to let go
my fingers slowly lost their grip
creeping my purchase crumbled
sinking ever deeper
becoming an automaton
I am going through the motions
watching the lights extinguish
along with my last grain of sanity
the cloudy waters of my heart
dream poems, writing of the light
I can surf the stars once again
the lip curls, it is folding my heart
and creasing my mind
sanity has fled on golden wings
as sleeves of soul sway in the breeze
Before the world began Before the apple fell from the tree It was always you with me Heard the cries of my first born Made love till early morn Beneath the stars In a rocket Jupiter to mars With you only you It was always you with me A love so great It spans from New York To the Golden Gate Even before I came to be It was always you with me Traveled far and wide My love at my side To guide the way Listen to what I say If I die tomorrow Please no tears of sorrow I have seen the pyramids Made love on the eiffel towers In a bed of flowers With you only you It was always you with me A million years before man walked the earth Before I could see It was always you with me Put the angel on top of the tree Bounced my newborn on my knee It was always you with me When I close my eyes Only you only you do I see The truth never lies It was always you with me Alexander conquered the world Before Julius Ceasar came to be In all the books for all to see It was always you with me Romeo and Juliet gave their lives to be A history of love For all the world to see It was always you with me A love so great It spans from New York To the Golden Gate Even before I came to be It was always you with me
The queen in yellow and black watched from her hive castle
As the shy sun peeked through the misty mountain morning
But then the colorful congregation of perennials cheered
Waving as the wind brushed their flower heads
Kissing their neighbors with every turn
Gentle lambs stared as busy bees broke their fast
Her saccharine smile now dipped in honey
Shepherds dozed in the bed of flowers
Even the wolves tipped their furry heads to her majesty
Those daisy chain daydreams dared to drowse her eyes
She sighed and wished she were a meadow lark, to browse the skies
Real is always better than any lesser imitation
Fake can never trump real with its mimickation.
Would you rather walk among Real Flowers in a real flower bed
Or would you prefer to walk among flowers, plastic ones instead?
Would you rather look upon a bed of flowers, each uniquely designed
Or would you prefer them all to be exactly of the same, molded kind?
Would you rather smell the sweet fragrances, all specially blended
Or would you prefer the factory smell to have your nose offended?
Would you rather gently touch a flower to feel its delicateness
Or would you rather touch a flower unfeeling of your caress?
Would you rather be a flower, an original, unlike all the rest
Or would you prefer to forfeit how by God you've been blessed?
Real is always better with authenticity to claim.
Genuine trumps generic, putting fake to shame.
Would you rather hold Real Flowers gently in your hand
Or would you prefer them hard and cold of a factory brand?
Real Flowers are delicate, vulnerable, and tender,
Character specific, accordance with their gender.
Though each appears to have flaws, oddities possess,
Each God Made Perfectly with real purpose to address.
Real Flowers do not compete nor with themselves concern,
How other flowers are blooming nor like them do they yearn.
Real Flowers just bloom, displaying their very best,
Knowing their unique offering is by God's Request.
Each heart is a flower with each an original face.
Each heart is a flower in God's Garden of Grace.
God created NOT anything plastic, unreal, or fake,
For only with His Love did He all hearts Uniquely Make.
Real Flowers God Created, each of His Own Design,
Each and every one He Made with His Love Divine.
Dear Flower of God, more than good enough for me,
As long as you stay real is how I wish you then to be!
Poem/art by Artsieladie/Sharon Donnelly
©2015-04-18 18:34:00 (EST)
All rights reserved.
F-flower pedals fall from her soul, the essence of her being.
O-orchids, Lilies, Azalea’s, and Daisy’s, have you ever laid down in a bed of flowers and just starred at the sky as the clouds turn into
R-roses, Tulips, and Bleeding Hearts a comfortable bliss, holding you forever is what I see from the reflection of her eyes.
E-each pedal a representation of her genuine personality and vibrant beauty complimented by her
V-vivacious curves, smile, and eyes
E-every time I see her my heart lets go a tear of joy and smiles with sincerity;
R-reliving our first date, kiss, and I love you all in the midst of our walk under the moonlight.
I-I am always in awe of her and as I get lost in her Daffodil eyes within the
reflection I see memories of our future tied together in a bouquet.
N-nothing else matters as long as I can look into your eyes as you look back into mine. And they say roses are red with violets being blue so what does that make
Y-you? The most alluring flower the world has to offer with a soft love but at the same time overflowing with moxie.
O-oblivious I am to the atmosphere around me when I am in your presence.
U-unconditional love you provide to me, using flower pedals to patch the wounds on my heart. I’m
R-reborn each time our lips hold each other, I close my
E-eyes as our lips embrace only to open them and see that in
Y-your eyes I see the reflection of my heart jumping from my chest to your hands in order to grow like
E-evergreen throughout our years together, I hope you know that I will always
S-sacrifice anything to remain forever in your eyes and watch the flowers of your life grow.
With you in the meadow
secretly secluded
caught within passion’s throes;
heads spin in fairy rings
as our love overflows.
With you in the meadow
tenderly embracing
lips seeking kisses sweet;
lost in love’s labyrinth,
our two hearts skip a beat.
With you in the meadow
reclining lazily
on a bed of flowers;
our hearts bound by daisy chains,
we make love for hours.
With you in the meadow
wantonly contented
I while the day away;
your promised forget- me-not’s,
enticing me to stay.
With you in the meadow
reluctantly parting
in twilight’s honeyed fall;
you are my rainbow’s end
my precious golden all.
Mother in the kitchen stirring a batch of lemonade,
Children in the wheat field hide and seek is what they play,
Father in the shed tinkering with his little trains,
Grandparents listen to music talking about the evening rain,
Years later mother drinks to time and the end of days,
Children all gone one in college and the other slain,
Fathers shed empty for the stroke showed he was not to stay,
Grandparents lay together on a bed of flowers in a casket frame,
More time passes and mother doesn't want her prescriptions late,
The last child works hard but wants to place on the temple a .38,
Fathers gambling debts makes the bank foreclose their place,
Grandparents property was only hope but was seize by the state,
For a brief moment happiness was all time could make,
But all these tears through the years brings only a depressing fate,
If these walls could talk they would say wow life use to be great,
Until reality brings in the real world burden with pessimistic hate.
(2017)
Silver threads amongst the gold
They have a story to be told
Of balmy nights and satin sheets
Of hands a touching and kissing feet
Lying in a bed of flowers
Steamy fun under the shower
Legs entwined tongues on fire
Nerve ends found more explosions sired
Hormones racing, bodies writhing
Exploding together thats unsurprising
Lying close body well seeded
Touching his manhood , more needed
Bodies not satiated need more loving
Need to shout out name whilst groping
Tiny kisses oh so sensual
Our lovemaking is not conventional.
Love to love, to want to give
To have to hold as long as we live
Older now but loving still able
Even If it's just footsie under the table
16/2/2013
Take me back to them days in the fall
When we spent our days breathing each other in with the air. Entranced. In thrall.
Where I held you beside me stood out in the entrance. Like them towering pines we viewed. Stood tall.
A walk in the woods. In the company of trees. Singular, familial yet unadorned. In that there loneliest place of them all.
Sat by the fire ; fanned by soft whispers, stoking stories of old
Kindling carried in kind by the wind; Words full of warmth in that glorious cold
Our inhibitions setting, our shadows cast as one. No care for the dawn with the night taking hold
In that moment time seemed still. A book cover framed in my mind so we counted stars in the sky writing chapters untold
The night settled in. We swayed beside the flickering fire. Not a word we spoke.
No music played. Like those fading flames we danced slow; in time with natures notes.
The moonlight took a shine to us then. A spotlight on my favourite autumn dress of flowers; filled with summer’s hope.
I’d fall asleep on your bed of flowers. Your scent of promise. Fragrant. Those days of fall when by each other’s sides we woke.
I look into your eyes and I see green
Green as the grass growing underfoot
Lips the colour of ripe cherries
Or an azalea bush as its flowers float
in the pond of life which is so blue
Maybe a tinge of grey at its edge
Skin the soft white of a baby
Before the blush of heat warms the soul
Hair like molten gold
as a field of corn swaying to and fro
Smile of an angel with dimples showing
As darker circles on the cheek aglow
This is how my elders described me
When I was just a small child
Nowadays
the eyes are still green as grass
Lips maybe tinged with blue
Skin not as pure as a babies
Yet the smile is still there, dimples too.
Colours of living change as one grows
The psychedelic hues that circle the brain
when times of worry and strain are about
Yet we strive for the rose pink of perfection
Like a bed of flowers, one dies and another springs forth
That’s called living and life in colour
Woke up this morning, in my home all alone
Set up your picture, in the hall by the phone
I glanced at the kids faces, hanging there on the wall
Dropped to my knees and prayed, there in the hall
I looked out in the yard, through the kitchen window
Saw white and yellow tulips, blooming beside our broken home
And there on the table, set the empty Easter baskets
Oh! Now my heart is filled, with all of my regrets
Today the sun is shining down, on the yard so bright
The grass is all new, looking so fresh and green
Oh! darling It's Easter, It's Easter
Last night you packed and left, after our terrible fight
Oh! but darling, you have to know
That those words, I didn't mean
Darling It's Easter, It's Easter
Now I'm standing here knee deep, in this bed of flowers
As my eyes start to drop tears, down like April showers
Oh! darling I can't bare, being alone on this Easter day
My God please open your eyes, and turn around today
I know now, that I've been taking you for granted
But if you come back, I promise I'll be the man you wanted
For this is to be, one of the happiest days of the year
But darling you left because of me, and now I shed these tears
Today the sun is shinig down, on the yard so bright
The grass is all new, looking so fresh and green
Oh! darling It's Easter, It's Easter
Last night you packed and left, after our terrible fight
Oh! But darling, you have to know
That those words, I didn't mean
Darling It's Easter, It's Easter
Standing alone in the land of frozen dreams
She awaits him in all extremes.
Unknown enough yet she entrusts her life with him.
Unconditional is her love and strange as it seems.
He gleams through the darkness as she devours
Her soul rejoices with beauty so rife
She rests herself on the bed of flowers
And feels the soft touch of colours in her life.
Their eyes talk building dreams monumental
Expressing thoughts deeper than love.
In every glance..He paints her eyes
with varied shades of hidden emotion
Glorifying her beauty to a new dimension.
There is something that keeps them separate
There is something that ties them together
It will always remain an unsolved mystery
In the lines and verses of her silent poetry.
Take a drive along a lonely road,
A dull highway with only the husks
Of cars and rotting flesh inside.
If you can find a certain groove
In the road, a particular line, then
You will be able to drive perfectly
Straight without ever even grazing
The wreckage and the death. This
Is the only possible way of outrunning
The forces of the world, of astronomy,
Of catching the setting sun.
No one ever said this was the right
Way. No god said this was the
Direction for you. You discovered it
All on your own—with a little help
From the birdie in your head that
Bloodily bursts its wings out of your
Ears and flaps and chirps and flaps
And chirps and flaps and chirps.
All your own, your mind, and a little
Birdie. No birdie ever said it was
The right way. She only said to go
That way. No god said this was the
Direction for you. You discovered it.
All on your own, and a little birdie.
You will never catch the sun. Your
Eyes will burn in their sockets as
You try. Who am I to convince you of
This? For I am not your little birdie.
No, but I know. Your car will clip the
Jutting wheel of a burned-out truck.
Your car will flip seven times and
You will be ejected into the air, but
You will not land in the bed of flowers
In the woods. You will be impaled on
The shredded metal of a van, your
Last breathing moments spent staring
At the charred, skeletal remains of a
Once beautiful mother and four
Young girls. Shed no tears for their
Souls, hypocrite, for they have long
Forgotten you.