Best Bougainvillea Poems
It stood on the other side of the wall rooted firmly
for the white bougainvillea tree did not belong to me
Wondered why it always branched this side
paving my walkway with blooms of white
While I patiently waited for my rose bush to flower
it nonchalantly continued its year-long showers
Unbothered unfettered by the gardener’s reaper, it grew
in every direction, old branches shooting off the new
Assiduously each day I tried to broom them away
but they, like a mother’s kisses were always there
Falling softly like advices from an old friend
they were fragile, paper-white, yet persistent
With gentle breeze they glide to me be it summer rain or spring
Innumerable, countless like God’s many blessings.
The bougainvillea
wears your fragrance
the scent a silent comfort
in my often quiet days
I enjoy our conversation
while the magenta
of its leaves
paints a beautiful picture
as if you were here
my words are like the creeping vine of a bougainvillea
they climb and intertwine
words are shadows on the wall of time- poems the flowers
bougainvillea . . .
with thorny spikes like the struggle of life
a nestled bloom within
with a sweet petal protection
hiding the scars on my soul and I am chained to this vine,
scrambling, struggling, colliding and tumbling down
words flutter for release
dripping from my pen a bougainvillea vine curling
I am fighting . . .
for soon my safe fortress will be vine ravaged
with bougainvillea crawling
vines drape over me like a net
yet words still stir beyond this thick curtain of bougainvillea . . .
____________________________
March 19, 2019
Poetry/Free Verse/Bougainvillia
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1126-004-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Bougainvillea
sponsor, Craig Cornish
Twelveth Place
A thousand dots of bulbs flutter wildly
exploding into my summer’s redness
to gather awed murmur upon these lips,
my amazement tossed beyond open sills—
How I watch you glitter from a dance
as late afternoon spreads the outline
of your voluptuous curves tapping
beneath warm sunset now giving way
to that quickened female rush ...Just then
against gauzy light—a steady pause,
another different movement quite innocent--
weaves on fine voile of your tiny bosoms...
Until comes the stillness. The nobility
enhanced by caressed petioles
delicate as slow flame unto night’s halo:
I claim tranquility. I become meditative
unaware that grind of day tears my sensibilities.
O you, dear Asian vine grant quiet radiance
hanging leisurely through my window's slumber.
4/03/2019
Written for Craig Cornish: Bougainvillea Contest
Bold, bright...unmistakable
she dresses in vivid pinks or purples
sometimes splashes of oranges or golds.
Her lavish flashes of flowers shine
and yet...
…brilliant bougainvillea has
her dark secrets.
Devoid of fragrance
this fanfare, flowery mistress
hides her hidden thorns...
…to touch her is
to become entangled
cut to the quick
scraped and bloodied
without warning
though careful one may be.
Beauty prevails over pain
as paper petals flirt and entice
all dressed up in pageantry
a multitude of sins are covered.
Bougainvillea lights up
the heated climate
flinging caution to the wind.
Written on 4/10/2019
Sunflowers are black and yellow
You’re a damn cute fellow
Our hands intertwined on the cello
With you, I want to sing the Sh-ha-shallow
Bougainvillea are purple and pink
Let me take you out for a drink
Together our glasses will clink
Oh, you make my heart sink!
Aruba
Pink and orange sunsets
Surrounded by tropical
Joy, people smiling at breakfast.
Urged by the scenery
To fully relax
And smell morning’s coffee
Beyond my tablet,
I spy the delightful
Petite snow-colored
Flowers that peek
Like faeries
Through their
Fuchsia motherboard
Amongst
The fragrant bougainvillea
Climbing toward heaven
From whence she came
I sigh my first sigh of
vacation.
Written 3-19-2019
Contest: Bougainvillea
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Lovely blossoms of bougainvillea
Under a moonlight serenade
Ostensibly I contemplate the root
Of the affinity drawing me to you
Abiding fighter and bounteous lover
Rendering your essence freely
For the love of the gift
Candid without a care
Asking for less than nothing really
A few drops of water enough for sustenance
You have no scent nothing to call your own
Or to flaunt your offering
Subtle faint understated and low-key
Waiting to be discovered
To be loved and treasured
Simply for what you are and...
Not for guiles ruses or ploys
Swaying silently you wait as I
In the moonlit summer breeze
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on June 22, 2019 for contest sponsored YOUR CHOICE FLOWER VERSE sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 1ST
No bougainvillea here,
Wind and wave-tossed shores
Know no such blossom.
What blooms next stormy seas
In western outposts far removed,
Unknown to sun-soft living ?
When silken purple drapes
The open sky, and folds of grey
And pastel blue hang mingled,
Dark-mirrored in the land below,
The daily reckoning may be heard,
Another storm from off the ocean,
Or might the sombre grey dissolve,
Transformed with silvered promise
Of brighter lengthening days ?
For when the earth relents,
As now it surely must,
A universal sigh is breathed
Across the waiting dormant land.
As expectation stirs, the great unveiling.
A curtain raised upon a glorious stage,
As now the islands of the west
With wondrous spectacle are blessed.
To my mind, and for what it's worth,
The flowering of the machair
Is the greatest show on earth.
BOUGAINVILLEA CITY
The city that enjoyed the floral name
Is now a transformed spectre of its past
A semi-graced decline has changed its mien
Like comely lady reaching certain age
But still today the Bougainvillea blooms
'Bougainvillea City' blossoms would abound
In graceful streets of affluence and pride
Bank halls baroque attested wealth enjoyed
But last days of boom brought vanity and fall
Yet still today the Bougainvillea blooms
Venal rulers chose antiquity disdain
Deflowered many an elegant urban scene
Tasteless vulgar outcrops broke the symmetry
Yet there remains a fading lustre at its heart
And still today the Bougainvillea blooms
With graceful flaming blossoms that conceal
Sharp prickles that will pierce unwary skin
To match the scarlet petals that abound
On streets and gardens riverside and verge
Yes still today the Bougainvillea blooms
There beside her in Cornish Wales,
like a fairy in pixie tales,
flew down the water's fall.
A water pall off the granite wall.
A waterfall wreathed in Bougainvillea.
There we sat in the highland haze,
where mists surrounds us like a maze,
for our heads to swell in,
and focused our grins,
while we were around our breezes and showers.
Where the waterfalls turns pinks and greens from Bougainvillea.
The full blossom and the summer breeze
in which that moment haunts my memories.
And there where the mists linger forever,
in the midst of the mists we shared a kiss,
While the late noon moon did bless,
us smelling the fresh leaves and buds of Bougainvillea.
See, she wore the flowers,
which excites and empowers,
and I wrapped some around her head.
She took my head instead
and kissed me the longer.
Her flower's scents empowered me stronger
and my hands next to hers.
In that time we had breathing in the Bougainvillea.
bougainvillea
decorative thorny bush
delights with color
3-5-2016
Bougainvillea
Beneath the ashen cloudless sky
the rain subsided to reveal
a plant is budding from its womb
with many colors to behold
of orange, pink and peach or white
the cerise petals paper thin
they cling and climb with such embrace
the sun has risen with a blush
the bougainvillea is enhanced
it shields the drabness of a sight
of worn out fenceposts by a road
rekindling scenes of pleasant thoughts
a road where no one enters more
no one will share its glory here
as time goes by the bracts emerge
as little children huddling close
to someday grow and join their kin
and like a talisman they give
the magic only they can show
the beauty that this plant bestows
Bougainvillea Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Craig Cornish
March 28, 2019
In the jubilation of the trellis
tossed emeralds and raspberries
gleam like comets
as cumulus crescendo
with April's piercing cornflower.
A determined wind
carries the masses' clatter
beyond cinder block walls,
hueing the landscape
with colors of redemption.
Daisies' and irises' imperial trespass
reverberates as umber trunks and chartreuse shoots
oracle forgiveness of crystal sins,
foretell magenta angels' coming
among a psalm of peonies.
Dusk's mauve whispers
sunshine’s lambent verses.
I shall dream in morning glories
and dandelion flowers
while floating on lissome breeze.
a flush of fuchsia
holds on to a memory
endows the head stone
© Harry J Horsman 2019