Best Blooming Poems
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
11-02-2015
Contest: Any Old Poem #6
Sponsor: SKAT A
Placement: 6th
Lately I have paused, pondering death
But I'm not fit for it's journey yet.
It's not that I loathe meeting death's kind
It will be, for me, an experience of a lifetime.
I've had one stupendous, lovely, awesome gift
A second chance at life I could not resist.
So tell me this... who's thinking of dying?
Color me rainbow. Rain falls, next, I'm smiling.
Lately I have paused, pondering death
It's out of my hands, my stem's length and breath.
All I have been, isn't all that I am
I've taken a stand to let The Source guide my hands.
I can claim to be a calico, claiming nine lives
Again, and again, I rise with clearer eyes.
I'd assume any form my Maker moves me to use
Would I be excused, if in your haven I refuse?
I am a flower, even in winter
Even in winter, I am a flower.
*
A poem starts as a tiny little seed planted in your mind
You nurture it, in time tiny roots start to form
It keeps on growing, branching out in all directions
Bursting from the buds the verses start to form
Until the poem blooms before your very eyes
Finally you are ready to reveal it in its full glory
You show the poem; your confidence blossoms
Some words may still need cultivating and pruning
Kind people will advise of where to trim or weed
My advice to new writers is simple – just have fun
Embrace your growing creativity with all your heart
05~16~15
In the desert of doubt and fear,
A flower blooms, resilient and clear.
Like this bloom, we stand tall and bright,
Nurturing our passions, through day and night.
The desert's harsh conditions test our will,
But we draw strength from our inner still.
We brave the burning sand, and weather the storm,
For our dreams are worth the desert's form.
In this arid land, we'll find our strength,
And like the bloom, our spirit will take length.
We'll strive to reach our goals, and make our dreams unfold,
And in the desert, our aspirations will bloom.
So let the desert's vastness, be our stage,
Where we'll rise above, and turn our dreams into page.
We'll walk through the fire, and emerge anew,
For in the desert's heart, our spirit will break through.
And when the journey's done, and we've made our stand,
We'll look back on the desert, with a heart full of sand.
For it was there that we found, our inner voice so bright,
And the flower that bloomed, was our spirit, shining with delight.
*
the
watchful eyes
of full moon
flickers again, *
an alchemy of cicada nights
humming a mantra like a pastoral symphony
-- -as if in a twirl of primal energy --- flock of
herons,
band of cattle, and grasses invite smokey dusk to
recite
her fables on morning dew and twilight passages
chant after chant
* and the trees bloom of a thousand foliage
gracing the winds with such opulent swagger,
that the living—absent from babbling language —
sigh after sigh
abandon its own movements to drift on greenery
floating on anklet of sky hardly recognized , except
for this
rare instance: the dignity of darkness, the tiers of
fragrance,
and caresses of nocturnal beings gathering in
warm
oneness of silence, reverent as it were, upon
• dew soaked in buoyant wonder..*
the mind forgets to speak: the branches
of a landscape pivot never knowing why
in solace, the breath marries light
II circle II
after
II circle. II
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Creative Layouts Contest
Sponsor: Broken Wings
8/11/2013
"Blooming"
In the quietening
of my days
there is a dream
there he whispers
cutting tales
with sharp teeth
in my mind
in he swims in calm waters
at the end of a long long story
You are far gone
lost for past glory
where future curls
its fingers around
your fate
where there you once stood
so fresh and wet in Life waiting
the longest re-wind
like an old tape
ribbons of black
viciously ripped out
now slack
a child long gone
family films on
scratchy videotape
ultra
sound
evaporates
I play it
on repeat
the cycle of complexity
yet it is far too simple
with each read to understand
what was not ever flexible
and that which was great
the sleep of
Rumpelstiltskin
awakening a stranger
others warn you
stay away from
the fire
stay away from
the danger
In the quietening
of my days
there is a dream
there lost love letters
from the soul discovered
open arms, looking upwards
smiling
The shark
planting blooms
each seed found
and like a pearl sewn
into the cover of a
new book sensed
yet still unknown
I calculate
all the imaginary
wounds
Love bombed
and swooning
in a flooded heart
blood red rose rising
razor edged and
naked bit large
red light
shining
some kind love
please let it be
the kindest love
blooming
in the gloaming
where an Ocean swells
inside this whirlpool
where an army of sharks
shed salt tears amidst
their ravenous timing
Moon draws you in
wrapping her beams
around you
she is swelling around you
her Ocean tide voluptuous
high rising
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
I tiptoed through the tulips
And leapt over the lavender bed
I covered the ground in red rose petals
And laid out a picnic spread
I winked at the Black Eyed Susans
And flirted with the buttercups
I sipped my glass of dandelion wine
As my eyes drank all the beauty up
I patronized the pansies
And was mesmerized by marigolds
I assembled all the azaleas
Into my memory portfolio
I borrowed from the begonia
Her bouquet of wondrous smells
And listened for the tinkling
Of little silverbells
I was dazzled by the daffodils
Enjoying every one of them
And couldn’t take my eyes off
Of the blooming geranium
I snapped pictures of petunias
And was patient with the impatiens
I love the lily of the valley
Not to would be a sin
The garden is my canvas
Springtime her coming out
My favorite time of year
Of that there is no doubt
written and posted on 4/5/2012
~
Morning is blooming
chrysanthemum sighs
Rose petal kisses
on daffodil skies
Apricot petals
in tulip display
Jasmine aromas
to start out the day
Buttercup giggles
beneath maple trees
Gardenia melodies
scenting the breeze
Peach blossom whispers
of marigold hue
Happily saying
good morning to you
~
There flows in the blooming fields of Master, Claude Monet
a tulip river that springs to life with each impassioned stroke
A painting into which butterflies would be tempted to stray
where flowers waft in currents, making oohs and ahs evoke.
A Don Quixotic windmill and an old farmhouse in succession
short strokes of crimson, muted greens and boldest yellow
blended on canvas, the artist's Impressionistic expression.
Landscapes in natural light was the genius of this fellow.
I would snip a fresh bouquet of tulips to adorn a crystal vase
and capture their scent from the canvas for perfumed potpourri.
If I could climb inside a Monet painting, in my arms I'd embrace
you beside his tulip river and then sip a glass of crisp Chablis.
I am the poet of the garden, hear my song
My petals are pages where verses belong
Rooted in the earth, yet reaching for the sky
I write my story as days and seasons fly
My first draft sprouts, a tender green shoot
Pushing through the soil, finding my root
Each leaf unfurls, a stanza takes the form
Braving the elements, defying the norm
Sun is my muse, rain my ink
I compose in colours you can't even think
Bees are my critics, buzzing review
Carrying my words to gardens anew
I bloom in metaphors of vibrant hue
Similes as sweet as morning dew
My fragrance, a rhythm that floats on the breeze
Alliteration in the whisper of leaves
Short maybe my time under the sun
But in this brief life, volumes are spun
Each day a revision, each night an edit
Till my final draft stands, and I'm proud of it
I face my mortality with every line
Knowing my words will wilt in time
But fear not for me, for in my seeds
Lie sequels and stories for future reads
So pause by my stem, inhale my prose
For I'm more than just a pretty rose
I'm a writer whose work is never done
Till the last petal falls, and my tale is spun
In the cycle of nature, I'll write once more
Rising again from the garden floor
For a flower's life is but a book
Endlessly rewritten, if you know where to look
" Bloomin Friendship "
Our friendship blooms just like a flower
as we watch it growing really fast
I know our feelings are both the same
this budding friendship is meant to last.
Your glowing beauty shines just like the stars
shining down on me brightly every day
our close togetherness is all we want
this heartfelt friendship is ours to stay.
Warm thoughts of you are so deeply felt
and every chance I get I will show
that my admiration for you is real
this cherished friendship I won't let go.
The most beautiful thing I found in you
when I saw it right from the start
a wonderful woman with a heart of gold
this Blooming Friendship is in our heart...
Penned By MPK
Quote: Life Is Poetry In Motion, Great Poets Reflect Emotion...
NOTE: This Poem Is Created And Dedicated to Aleera
The flowers bloomed this morn
sun drenched, love permeated
a bright blue vision pierced my eye
the winds shifted ever slightly so
grabbing my attention and view
with her boundless and beautiful sky
brightness gripped then lingered
in the newness of dawn
greeting with a vigor and a song
that played softly in my heart
style gave way to form
grasses bent and lilacs swung
colour bursts grazed my cheek
as Monday up and swirled
the dew turned and kissed my being
a crisp chill concealed
and contained in every feel
thoughts hesitated then hushed
you entered and eased my mind
blooming with the flowers
ever pretty, you're just too kind
Keeping hope alive in our hearts is what makes our dreams in time bloom!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
07 January 2019
Nestled between two bronze columns
an orchid blooms
its fleshy petals slowly unfold
secreting honeydew on a warm velvet tongue
releasing an aromatic aroma
of wondrous ecstasy
to nurture a hungry soul, with wings
contest some kind of sensual
6/2/20/ sponsor nette onclaud
Blooming Orchid, free verse
34 words
"Spring Is Coming Alive With My Five Senses." Quote By Poet
I see the beautiful spring flowers blooming.
I feel the new day's sun upon my face.
I taste the fresh red juicy strawberries.
I touch the soft brown baby bunny.
I smell the rain after the day has been watered.