Best Blossoming Poems
"The buds on my pear tree will become florets this day,
prettily unfurled a creamy white." by poet
On leaves of green streams down the gold
of a radiant April dawn,
and blotted out is winter’s cold
because sun’s here to warmly smile upon
the pear tree that is posing on my lawn.
The first day for her blossoming has come.
White pearled clusters now adorn my favorite tree.
A lovely fashionista this day she has become.
Can any other tree be more beautiful than she?
Blossoming
much like a bud
in spring
prying open.
Their dream of love is
coming true.
Romance
unbidden.
Love has
snuck up and
struck them like
a cupid's arrow.
Love was written in their...
eyes,
and deep in their hearts!
(Yalto)
Submitted for...
Strand Select K, Any Form,Any Theme Poetry Contest (Winner: Honorable Mention)
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Date: 02/10/2020
Date written: 02/08/2020
"Yalto" is a form invented by yours truly
Line 1 to 15: 3,4,2,4,5,3,2,3,2,3,3,5,6,1,5 syllables.
I have a love an affinity;
Tho! I’m just a man I love all;
I have a powerful love for humanity;
And even within all this I enwalled;
A true love for all of you;
Every single man and woman;
This I shall prove;
By doing what and all I can;
I have a ensure a powerful start;
I have heed the call;
To one and all;
I have a blossoming heart;
I have heed the call;
To one and all;
I have a blossoming heart;
There is nothing;
Worth losing my soul salvation;
You can’t hurt me I’m ever yet so worthy;
Keep that negativisms away from me;
Glory, glory be….
I have a ensure a powerful start;
I have heed the call;
To one and all;
I have a blossoming heart;
I have heed the call;
To one and all;
I have a blossoming heart;
I heed the call;
To one and all;
There is nothing
Worth losing my soul for…
You can not hurt me, for I am worthy and holy
for one and all;
I have for all humanity a blossoming heart;
12/4/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
Where are all the elderly?
Where did they all o?
Like a blossom they withdraw
From the bitter sorry cold.
Just caress a little bit
With warmth fro the cold
And you'll find they're in your hands
And the blossom's now a rose.
Brenda Elizabeth Rose
Fragile mirrors slice darkened cellars
bead by bead, she whispers a prayer;
thorns of farewell clasp her heart ,raking
as twilight closes fading lamps, bare.
Although a tight knot of vein weakens,
chafed hard... memoirs leave a tender spot
a warmer throb, a much closer touch ;
when cold love flown still matters a lot.
Now runes of time's destiny appeal
for one chance...his lies so wide and deep;
that mate's peach roses arrive, quite late,
as moon drones softly so eyes can sleep.
If ever, sleep will cave her trembles
allowing time to heal...in breath's delight
her new hours can greet scented flowers,
to sprout fresh blossoms, to wake a night.
Sheri F. Harper's Rock Me Around the Clock
or Rock Me to Sleep--Rhythm Poems
by nette onclaud...1/6/2015
Read more at: http://www.poetrysoup.com/poetry_contests/
A man who isn't,
Will blossom nicely some day,
A kind gentleman.
A child is a flower blossoming from a bud
They need to be nurtured, and given plenty love.
They need food and shelter to sustain
They need comfort from their pain when
It rains.
They need words of encouragement every day
They need support and guidance along the way.
They need hugs, and kisses, and discipline too
They are a special gift, I thought you knew?
Just like a flower needs water, and sun
So do our precious dear little ones.
The Blossoming
Within shivers
Hot like
Ice
Hides he
Phantom yet
Passes her
Daily
Hides
She
So shyly
Dark tresses
Unsure
Within
This
Diamond like
Shines
She
Tentative
Within
New
Ability
Halls grow dark
And
Only
He
Haunts her
This want
Disco ball
Of tentatively
She
Walks within new
Wants
Cursed within
The
Exquisite
Like shards pang
Desperately
A lullaby
I can
No longer
Bring
Hold her so
Close
Yet so far
Away
This new life
For
In Solo
So
Exquisite
She sings
---------
Midlife Blossoming ~ The Late 1970s
Age thirty-nine...kids, grown and out;
the empty nest, so stark and cold.
Two off to college, third, almost...
glum days ahead can be foretold.
Just like a ghost town... home became,
though hours at work filled time up well.
But still, I felt a door had closed,
and life became a shallow shell.
To help fill gaps, I soon began
to study books and write once more.
So much to learn to improve skills...
my thoughts led to another door.
That door I opened. Six years passed
at college, where I had enrolled.
Earned my degree...English BA
and business minor, now I hold.
My writings flourished, published some;
new skills soon helped our company
expand and thrive for many years...
dear husband Pres, and I, VP.
March 24, 2016
~3rd Place~
Contest: Where Were You In the '70s?
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Judged: 03/10/2018
~1st Place~
Contest: When A Door Closes
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Judged: 04/03/2016
The blossoming
came a bit early,
and April Fool’s Day
pulled the sweetest trick.
I left my house, and
when I got back home,
white buds had shown up
blooming nice and thick!
My pear tree
looks its prettiest
in April.
Although it’s said
that flowers
come in May,
I see so many
rainy days in March;
then April flowers
pop up more each day.
I wonder why
they say it’s
April showers
bringing blooms in May
because I think
it’s rays from sun
that shower
on my trees
in April
when they flower
white, blue, and pink.
Written April 7, 2016 for Anacreontic Verse 3 Contest of Edward Ebbs
Everything has changed in a jiffy
The sun is balmy, the grass is green
And no trace of winter can be seen.
I ventured out on my usual nature stroll
To penetrate beauty, breathe fresh air
And mingle with nature that is so dear.
I walked along a clear- cut path contemplating
the mystery of the benevolent sky,
analyzing the soul of the city
while communicating with the swirling wind.
It’s a beautiful day filled with children at play
groups of children assembled on the playing ground
and instructors and parents hanging around.
Tiny tots, elementary school age, strong headed teenager
were all apart of this enthralling game.
The tiny tots could hardly hold their bats
Fathers’ gathered around helping their boys
as they struggle to make an accurate shot.
Something spectacle caught my eyes from a distance
a laden tree decorated with beautiful flowers
pulled me along a magnificent path.
I couldn’t help but tossed myself under the tree.
I lie on the splendid grass beneath the laden tree
and stared intensely towards the heavens above me
laden branches juxtaposed against the thrilling
blue sky reminds me that life is beautiful and divine.
Passionate pinkish-hued flowers hanged cheerfully above me
while dozens of bee suck nectar from their nourishing blossom.
I lie very still focusing on the scenery above me
trying to figure out the unknown
so that I can compose a true story of my own.
It was a magical moment all wrapped up in the appealing blue sky
I watched the sun forced its way through the laden branches
and penetrated my entire face with its glaring ray of light.
Birds lands upon the crammed branches singing melodious tunes
and a gently wind passed through swiftly scattering petal over me.
Not far from the blossoming tree a naked tree with dry branches
dressed up in winter boots, encumbered with winter gown
is still feeling the winter punishment from inside out.
beaten and battered red buds lingered on the tip of dry branches
trying desperately to bloom again.
The laden blossoming tree leaning against the clear blue sky
with its pinkish-hued flowers and gleaming sunlight
paved the way for a brand new day.
©2015 Christine Phillips
Boy :
deep beneath the veil
behind creaking songs of mouth -
felt fragrance of love
Girl :
nah! torpor dreamer
fret over your own fancies -
stars won't shine the day
Boy :
rain sweeping over
pall of clouds hiding the sun -
still I waits the smile
Girl :
before thunder knocks
lightning burns the tweet of love-
not the right day out
Boy :
burned pile of ashes
blown by the low moaning wind -
shines the fire of love
Girl :
fling of youthful love
swayed faded chintz of my mind -
stony heart melted
foggy spirits unfurl from his flared nasal crypts,
with each snort and snarl and curl of his lips,
the bull stands before me, unshakably strong-
he knows who I am, and I must prove him wrong.
i’ve beaten and shoved him, though I trip as I try,
but no matter my method the beast never dies,
he’s bitten me, trampled me, bruised me and gored
and for each scar inflicted, I’ve evened the score.
I kicked at his hooves and I’ve slashed him with knives,
we’ve bitterly tousled for most of our lives-
he bellows his bluff, stares me down with daggers,
but I’ve grown unmoved by the force of his swagger.
for the ways that he’s hurt me are nothing compared,
to the time that I’ve wasted feeling rageful, and scared.
it could go on forever, or end the next moment-
in this sick stalemate, will we live to have known it?
at the brink of my gumption, I’ve no choice but to try-
picking sweet smelling flowers as small as his eyes,
a concilate crown, wide enough for his horns,
he eyes me uncertain, yet bows to be adorned.
tho we won’t be fooled into thinking he’s tamed,
for now a respite has been put to our game-
i’m no longer his hostage, his master, his whore-
while the flowers are nourished by his violent allure.
Like a blossoming flower
I yield to the sun;
While listening to the rays of
Light fill each pore.
Never asking why,
Never asking when,
Never asking wherefore
Go I?
With bounteous profusions of beauty
That call upon the
Time of no-time--
No beginning, no end--
The poem becomes itself,
Completely itself.
Amen.
They are in the woodwork of my mind
framed memories fixed, nailed in time.
My father is there, silent as wood.
I sought to know him, but never could.
Mother’s presence splinters the air
I hear her still, voice cobbled in care.
Older sisters emerge, a polished veneer
whispering what others won’t go near.
An older oak-stout brother appears
he ingrained me with nightmarish fears.
Best memories end a blossomed tree
when a surprise baby brother comes to be.