Best Blossom Poems
May’s blossom on the bush was my delight.
Her birth came soonest of all the flowers’.
When was it that she first beheld sun’s light?
Did it fall on her in dawn’s first hours?
I wonder how she felt when sudden rain
fell, pounding her before her blossoming,
and did she know how short would be her reign
once she’d emerged to greet the world in spring?
An unexpected snowfall came one day
before her sister roses could join her.
How strange it was to have that freeze in May.
I could almost hear it – her silent brrr -
as she – poor, frozen blossom in the snow -
no more would feel her rosy life force flow.
My thoughts whirring
When life freezes the blood
Actions that burn in hell
A fire that burns forever
Terror - their empire of hate
Fearless, they control our destiny
Terrible destruction done by weak and miserable people
They mark their strength as animals, with deposition of urine
"Hell on Earth" these demons will inflict upon mankind
Of human destruction and evil, woe and shame
How likely we can find "The Earth's Paradise"
I look far around, but not close
We want to live in butterfly harmony
From wing to wing - of their joy and dance
29 - 05 - 2017
(unrhymed couplets)
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Reflection of a cherry blossom tree,
mirrored upon a calm river by pale moonlight.
Its fragile buds falling with the light breeze,
float away with the flow of tributaries.
Just like memories that slowly slip away,
time ticks calmly counting down the days.
Innocently it stands with serene beauty
as lovers gather to admire its peaceful nature.
Many beloveds have shared a passionate kiss,
while intoxicated by its seductive aroma.
From Vietnam to Japan, to the shores across the pond,
many a love story has began under fragile pink blossoms.
Oh my beloved,
how I long to embrace you beneath its glory,
so our love story can be forever cherished.
Under pale moonlight that glistens for you
our lips will delicately touch for the first time.
Cherry blossom buds shower our heads,
as they shelter our love.,
The Silent One
Originally written 3 October 2015
Posted 5 January 2018
My soul is my guide.. Rumi
I once adored the warmth
of unreachable desires.
Ascending too high,
I fell from the sky just like Icarus.
Suffering from the flames of fate,
my eyes resembled a million candles
burning tears of wax.
But, I've always been familiar with fire,
as I was born scarred from internal inflames.
It's a blessing when strings of attachment
cremate into ashes.
Love is a vintage gold rose,
an irreversible ideology,
where thorns grow upon petals of pain.
In an autumnal aura, all scents fade,
so I remain in pale blackness -
my sighs as heavy as smokeless tar.
Yet, I know my soul will blossom,
once again with robins in Spring,
as scents of sweet almonds return
with the rebirth of roses without thorns.
In a world of imagination
the colours of love are boundless.
Romance is an opal rainbow over
stormy oceans yearning for turquoise tides.
If my heart was a gem,
it would reflect like a scarlet diamond,
walking upon malachite meadows,
full of ivory orchids with purple lilies,
admiring aquamarine skies,
with hues of amethyst and citrine.
We were all born to sparkle..
Under tones of indigo moonstone
with hints of pink,
my quill will scribble in lilac ink
as love always returns.
Simple Musing.
The poet’s world I’d read
about in English class
has faded, and alas!
It’s very nearly dead.
Its golden notes have fled
Like blooms from winter’s grass.
I’m in a modern time
where poets’ lines run free.
Although there’s imagery,
there’s little use for rhyme,
and what was once sublime
is now shunned poetry.
I long for grass turned cold
again to blossom gold.
May 22, 2017 For John Hamilton's
'Best rhyming poem May-July 2017' Poetry Contest
See "About Poem" for definition of this HexSonnetta form.
Once a bronze blossom shone so sophisticatedly.
Flourishing in an oasis of tropical butterflies.
Its aura would emanate from enigmatic auroras.
Its roots nourished from the scents of petrichor.
Admirers would gather to gaze at such grandeur,
oblivious of poppies among common roses,
so the jealous sun in its narcissistic loneliness,
blazed with hell like rays, creating a drought.
In the inhuman illusion of synthetic flowers,
its petals withered like rustic wicker wreaths.
I stood helpless, as the wind left it exposed,
as lifeless buds began swirling in the air.
Only evergreen textures remain timeless.
An empty garden has no worth to birds or bees.
In the silence between seasons, so much is lost,
yet unique anomalies always leave memories behind.
O hearth of hypnotic language,
my moon in warm alphabets,
if to love you, I must drown,
and to move you, soul must listen,
let the heart trust the luminous
craft of compelling art,
where every stroke summons
liquid petals of ink to scribble
across cosmic walls
of constellations,
as this craving curates the essence
of timeless touch,
whilst jealousy becomes the flame,
burning ~ aching ~ wanting
to breathe poetic palpitations
in the fingertips of your addictive alchemy,
turning graphic graffiti
into a passionate storm
of alienated butterflies,
with abstractions of trembling textures
outlining the truth of temptation…
Yet I sleep with black dahlias
beneath my pillow, embroidered
with erased notes of metaphors,
dreaming of you and I,
catching polaroids of sunrise,
for every frozen blossom,
bathes in scarlet streaks
of awakening light,
as we remain more than just
a rhyme wrapped in dusks of darkness ~
we are the cascading colors
dancing as secrets I still bleed.
I am the crystal quartz,
chaotically calligraphing
charismatic thoughts
around the glass frames of your galaxies,
exhaling vivid visions,
inhaling what could be,
for I am a stargazer
romanticizing lilac thunder,
chasing cloudscapes of sparks,
lost in the afterglow of a dawn ~
draped in the gravity
of neon-silk verses…
Sakura breathing...
along an old stone footpath
children are laughing
cherry blossoms---
the Fukushima sky again
smiling pink
################
on melting snow
first cherry blossom
withers too soon
mum ties pink ribbons
to the white casket
Or
on melting snow
first cherry blossom
withers too soon
mum unties ribbons
from empty cot-bed
Inspired by Chris`tanka contest,not for the contest
Two sonnets for May, and my muse
The fires are lit, my lover, and the hills
are flickering with little points of light
The sun is set, and deep within the rills
the seeds of stars are littering the night
The smoke is rising, lover, rising high
in winding spires of ribbons in the air
and in the rivers where the willows cry
and on the leys the ancient druids dare
to walk, the chalk is glowing. I know you
will never leap the Beltane fires with me
or rise on one May morning in the dew
beside me, spellbound by my poetry
Or so it seems. But oh, my lover, how
the blossom burns, so brightly on the bough
The maypole’s up, my lover, on the green
its willow ribbons flutter in the breeze
I would you be my king, and I your queen
for one night only, here beneath the trees
The hawthorn froths, my lover, in the hedge
the buds are bursting, birds are nesting high
yet still you fly, my hawk, above the edge
of some cold mountain way up in the sky
Come down, or are you wary that a flame
might fall within your feathers, or a spark
ignite your heart, or god forbid, you came
to want to stay beside me in the dark
It’s so, it seems. But see, my lover, now
the blossom burning brighter on the bough
© Gail Foster 1st May 2018
Let’s fly to the celestial fiesta of the cherry blossom,
In the North Eastern Region of Shillong, named, “The Scotland of the East,
The abode of the cloud,” in the lush mesa of the magnetic Meghalaya!
The wheezing Pine forest of the whispering waterfalls in the Khasi hills,
is bustling with the nature’s fairytale of pink, white and ivory!
As far as the eyes can see, the rolling tableland is ringing, ridden by the radiant petals of cherries!
Neither Japan, nor Paris, a mere remote region of Indian plateau,
Glowing in nature’s sublime glory of pellucid picturesque pinks!
Nicknamed, Prunus Cerasoides, the cherry blossoms,
a delightful boon of Himalayas,
are blooming profusely in the magical
verdant highland of the East Khasi hills!
The November is rippling with
moonlit music, plethora of flamboyant folk dances,
pageants, stalls to cater to the globetrotters’ penchant for the ethnicity
of the fur-flung region’s tribes’ cuisines, wine, arts and cryptic crafts!
Such bedazzling is the serenity of the panaromic platonic plateau,
As folks of the vicinity, are traversing despite the rampant pandemic,
to glimpse the shangri la of the richest biome of the floral magical lane!
The resonating frolic of the chirping and twittering from the cheerful cherry bushes
are teeming with the twirling bliss, intoning,
in winters whistling whiff!
A nature’s bounty, a pamphlet of picturesque hamlets’ terrains of aromatic sensuous purity!
Blessed are they, who have witnessed the once in a lifetime scene of crystal clean roaring rivulets, murmuring brooks, the ravishing orchids, quirky root bridges, aesthetic lakes and rills, scented wild flowers, encompassing the enigmatic cherry blooms of the mystic land of the majestic mountains!
An euphoria to have a ride amidst the clouds of the misty moorlands,
gliding languidly to take the signature of the mementos of the moments;
to kiss the plateau of wild orchids, flowering Cherries and sacred woodlands of those Khasi hills,
crackling with the sprouting, cherry blossom festival of the far East!
* For His Highness Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum *
oh …
how I’ve dreamed of you -
sultry mistress to the sun's ire …
dappled and coy amid the palms, a-sway
your eyes of the gloaming’s
vault shimmering with the Milky Way …
Luna, red as rouge to
blush your cheek of sacred sand
dune drifts, the waves of
your golden tresses …
you …
a flawless gem, shimmering
cut and polished with care and perfection to
sunder the sunlight into rainbows -
to focus the best energies and
acumen of humankind
and seed an oasis orchid with a
bloom, exquisite and rare …
oh proud are you
jumeirah, jadhab and mutheer ...
soon and sure
we shall woo each other -
you, Princess of the Arabian Desert
me, fool for your fevered wiles
tempted from afar …
you, immodest and lush
with such lavish loins of excess
arms of extravagance, beckoning me
decadent, seductive …
warm, endless summer night
whispering fancies …
take good care, my heart
the soft echos of its dire drumming have
yet returned from the firmament
final pulses not abounding ...
but the rhythm it
hereafter composes is graciously
sacrificed for your admiration …
offered up to your dream -
sweet song of your gilded breeze …
the aria of my tawny, torrid temptress ...
DUBAI!
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Foreign Travel" Poetry Contest, Thvia Shetley, Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Landscapes Poetry Contest", Kim Rodrigues, Sponsor.
~ 6th Place ~ in the "Exotic Poetry Contest", Debbie Guzzi, Sponsor.
One bright splash of red
On the snow-covered holly--
A cardinal bloom.
laughing children throw
handfuls of cherry blossom - -
an old couple kiss
for Susan’s Cherry Blossom contest