Best Bluebonnet Poems
Round and round I go
Unfolding my spirit of envy and gold
The nascence of a new stone
Hazel room, vibrant lilac sky,
Deep orange haze in a tender place
Arms of sapphire and cornflower blue
Fuchsia beauty drips, covering my ruby lips
All colors drift
On the first day, we met
Visions of dark slate-gray fade away
Firing up the new-age gem
Turning and creating different stars
Magic mint skies
White antique petals follow the current of air
Opal dreams, clouds embedded with impurity
My heartbeat produces flashing colors
The palest amethyst bluebonnet forever fields
Flawless tear-drop streams
Diamond shaped love
Ruby Red promises to keep
Flowing into the deep
Every color spins new
The day I fell in love with you
Peridot lime green tint
A love as old and gray
Olive brownish sun
Honeydew skin
Our future, deeper than aquamarine
Every day you turn fresh new seasons in me
Changing the sequence in my colors and effect
Kaleidoscope Eyes
Reflect by the mirrors of you
Crystallizing everything
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am a thousand violet tongues
licking the wind, silently bending
beneath the blistering Texas sun.
I unfurl where the highway
forgets its name,
where the sky
presses down like a warm hand.
I am not regal;
I am not obedient~
I am a wildflower,
a spill of indigo
against the thirsty Texas earth.
I do not beg. I do not bow.
Only nod~
a friendly howdy
when the pickup trucks rumble past,
kicking up the Texas dust
that settles like old prayers.
The cattle low at my presence,
their hooves careful, almost reverent.
Wind bends me; I bow back.
Rain comes; I drink deep.
At dusk, my petals close like fists~
small, stubborn prayers.
Each spring, I return.
I open~
a rebellion of color.
I am not delicate. I am patient
I am waiting
for you to pull over,
to kneel in the dirt next to me
and take a picture with me~
a Texas tradition.
I am the lupine that remembers
the Comanche horses,
the oil rigs,
rodeos, and
the subdivisions
creeping like frost.
When they pave this field,
I will rise through the cracks, for
I am as defiant as Texas.
I am the Texas’ state flower.
I am the bluebonnet.
My Famous Favorite Poet,
One day, I'll write like you own it.
Your gorgeously written sonnet,
Mines are like bees in my bonnet.
Words hum dimly and don't brighten,
Yours float high, and they enlighten.
All my poems acquire honey,
They buzz about sounding funny.
Each of your sonnets shines like gold,
With words that glow, so all behold.
My poems hid inside a beehive,
While yours outside gets a high five.
I hope to write like your sonnet,
Honeyed butter like Bluebonnet.
Zinnia Grandiflora a golden beauty
Yellow Prairie Coneflower conical cutie
Xerophilous plants designed to survive
Waterlily attached to bottom soil to stay alive
Venus Fly Trap grows wild in marshes
Ulmus grows wild along with birches
Texas Bluebonnet cover fields with hyacinth like joy
Shasta Daisy white and yellow who could ask for more
Rocket Larkspur projecting a backwards spur
Queen Anne's Lace root add to pot and stir
Purple Coneflower helps strengthen the immune system
Oriental Poppies held captive by morn's dew glisten
Nasturtium are symbols of conquest or of charity
Maximilian"s Sunflower withstands weather's serverity
Lemon Balm Mint lovely the citrus scent
Kalmia Carolina reaches to mountain ascent
Johnny Jump-Up a delightful surprise
Indian Blanket Flower a short lived prize
Hollyhock short-lived six to eight foot beauties
Globe Gilia blue clover-like cuties
Foxglove's foxy tubular but poisonous flowers
Evening Primrose has been used for food and medicinal powers
Desert-Marigold a blessing and curse
Chocolate Cosmos fills the air wth scents to nurse
Black-Eyed Susan Rudbeckia a delightful fall addition
Annual Baby's Breath to end a southern garden tradition
Inspired by John Lawless' contest First Ever ZYX Contest
Written: October 10, 2015
A mixture of wildflowers and other flowers and ideas..
Mother and son, a moment in time,
One wants to live, the other to drive.
First of firsts, young son at her wheel,
Both on a journey, spanning their lives.
Indian summer, bluebonnet skies,
Escaping together into painted fields.
One from the cage with its rigid design,
And one from the sadness that family yields.
Exhilaration, he drives through his fears,
Faster and faster, wheels hum and glide.
Silent emotion, she tempers her tears,
Out on the highway they sit side by side.
All those years later, with memory pure,
His son sits beside him, steady and sure.
on a bluebonnet day
the dew itself just set
as i just wake up
pour my bourbon in a cup
this is as good as i get
on this bluebonnet day
i set in a garden and write
as i clear my mind
i get lost in time
bleeding verse until night
the end of a bluebonnet day
sitting drunk in my own demise
my cares buried deep
i begin to count sheep
to dream of bluebonnet skies
April is lovely
another Texas Springtime comes
bluebonnet blanket
July arrives hot
humidity without rain
honeysuckle scent
October slips in
with a mere hint of Autumn
chrysanthemum blooms
January burrr!
blue northers blast frigid air
chance of snow tonight
She tinkers change someone left on the table
waiting for brunch at the Bluebonnet Bistro,
a hole in the wall with thick on the windows.
Lost deep to thought, this rock ‘n roll liberal
in her mid-twenties and sage satin stole,
pockets a penny that weighs down the satchel
strapped to her shoulder and swung under table,
asway just above cherry red laced stilettos.
From a corner booth table, a sitting man stares
an impertinent stare at her pendulum satchel
and long dangled legs that sway to a torso
wrapped tight in proof of a Wolf Parade show
back in twenty fourteen - unable to go
back down below where he yearns to obey
all known from each of each one of her toes.
12/20/2018
A poem about the diminishing return of memories as they're reduced and bid bare by time using an abbreviated variation of the sestina form.
My soul cries for Nature and natural things
To blend with my spirit as one
And circle this globe on powerful wings
Oh, show me all that Creation has made
I have been hidden where putrefaction clings
And where decay blocks out the sun
But somewhere I know that a mockingbird sings
I know of cold water that comes from the springs
And miracles that rains have done
As my being longs for the beauty that brings
Oh, show me all that Creation has made
I am in purgatory after Death stings
Covered with earth and mud that runs
All the same for peasants and kings
Oh, show me all that Creation has made
Heaven will be soon when the entry bell rings
I may be summoned by some nun
To step into glory as a welcome pings
But, Dear Lord, I will miss those bluebonnet Springs
I love Nature and freedom won
Still, tell me that's life and the pendulum swings
Oh, show me all that Creation has made
2-21-19
Contest:February 2019, Roundel
Sponsor: Dear Heart
Bluebonnet, bluebonnet, blooming anew
Proudly and loudly, your entrance you make,
Infant of nature asplash in the dew.
Brighting the day as you burst into view
Fresh as the sunrise, delight of daybreak
Bluebonnet, bluebonnet, blooming anew.
Fair in a fairy-tale fantasy you
Beam as the morningtide beckons you wake
Infant of nature asplash in the dew.
Profits aplenty, your faultings are few;
Yielding and modest , no credit you take.
Bluebonnet, bluebonnet, blooming anew.
Dancing, romancing, admirers to woo,
Though winsome compliment words to forsake
Infant of nature asplash in the dew.
So now in the brilliant hue of your blue
Out in the meadow alongside the lake
Bluebonnet, bluebonnet, blooming anew
Infant of nature asplash in the dew.
Statuesque.
Cradling mortality.
Watching drywall become
constellations.
~
Bluebonnet fields
taller than he's ever seen
the wind makes them all dance
~
Sterile conversations
Latex gloves snapping in unison
Clapping for the waking dreamer
"He's not out of the woods, yet"
~
Voices intermingled
Rushed movements
Erratic beeps.
"Steady"
Crimson trickles down his
chest. The only feeling left.
~
Smiling faces- blurry, unfamiliar.
"Rest now. We'll answer anything you
want. But, for now. You need to be still."
He fights the urge to break free of Intervenous
shackles. Run back to the bluebonnet field.
Where he remembered who he was.
-James Kelley 2019
Bluebonnet Margarine
Blonde girl with pigtails
In a blue checked gingham blouse
And a white pinafore
Showing us how GREAT
It tastes.
And it does spread easier
Than butter.
For Sure!
We are innocent
Easily led.
Still believing in people’s good.
We switch over easily.
Finally forgetting
What real butter used to taste like.
I had some the other day.
Wow!
Suddenly reawakened
And refreshed!
Despising the pigtail girl.
Uh-oh.
I just looked up the ad.
It was the Sunbeam Bread girl.
Scratch this one.
jungle governor green, respectable robin egg blue
beyond banana mania, periwinkle too
brisk bluebonnet, French fuchsia and plum
tickle me pink, where did you come from?
wild strawberry, chesterfield on my swollen lips
radical red, overdressed orange wearing two slips
midnight blue, outer space light saver green
a few crayon colors at one time in a box seen.
The Solar Spring is breathtaking sending out itself everywhere
a sense of renewal is arising, growing, budding, and blooming.
The groundbreaking is taxing the granules of rich earthen sod
as new life seeks out the world above and the waiting wonder.
Aurorean presence breaks dawn light relishing the early share
as morning spreads the atmosphere rummaging goes on below.
Snowdrops pierce a melting frost and Sweet Alyssum edges on
the blossoms of mostly white and hints of green drooping down
Further onwards the tiny flowerets of Alyssum's scent air swell
and in the rears just above ground in striking colors are pansies.
The grand boulevard of a bustling town a ways from the hey-day
as an array of color-filled flowers like Daffodils being light in color.
There are bold blue-colored Bluebonnet stems standing in rows
and immediate to them are purple Sunflowers, --they're purplish.
Scattered about is a display of different hues of tall Spider Lillies
on the whole, I'm impressed with our tiny town's achievements.
I can say that with a measure of certainty that memories serve of
Bath, Maine circa 1970 + a dog after a chicken + a town after a dog.
Myrtles in the mist
Sunlight streaming in
An ethereal presence
A rainbow of tapestry
Little light purple star flowers
In the ink green darkness
At the heels of the eucalyptus woods
A lavender lullaby, wordless
Bluebonnet faces shady with sleep
A hum of a psalm that is all life throbbing
Earth in constant motion
An ocean cradle rocking for centuries
Apocalypse forever renewed
When dew becomes jewel
And frost sews its lace
A crochet of vines
Embroidery of mosses and flora
Scent and sound
Fragrant rustling of the eucalyptus
On the salt-sea breeze
Swept off from the dunes
The last twinkle in the dusk
Quiet flower heads lie in wait
Of some ancient memory
That may never exist
For some long-forgotten harmony
And heartbreak
Washed in on some far-off shore
When the mist of the morning
And the mist of the dusk
Are indistinguishable
When both command and instill
A hush and halt
A mind-clouding gas
Mesmerize and harmonize
Some mists are eternal
Some a passing glance
Emotions and myrtles go hand in hand
The mists are the spirits of the earth
Myrtles are a lullaby
The evening prayer that glows within.