Best Bouquets Poems
barely a flower
holy consecrated ground...
headstones well adorned
© Harry J Horsman 2021
Poems
On
Every
Topic
Releasing
Your
Spirit
Opening
Unexplored
Precious
Boxes
Organic
Unseen
Quandaries
Unfurled
Emotions
Thus
Soar
Written 1st October 2019
2nd Place
Contest Name: Three Word Acrostics
Sponsor: Bobby May
Contest Name:Give Me Your Best New Poem |
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
N/A
Contest: Strand Select 2
Sponsor: Brian Strand
HONORABLE MENTION
Up a country road Wisteria blooms
The soft lavender fragrant buds await
Easy sunlight gently touches blossoms
Sends wafing aromatic breeze thru gate
White Dogwood blooms spot multicolored woods
Gently lift and fall in soft spring air
Impressionistic Azalea blooms stood
Colorful ornaments on creek's bend fair
Narcissus stand in trim and neat rows
Except at homeplaces beside the road
Where they are free to send out young
For our rejoicing when spring has sprung
In the warm spring nature's bouquets abound
Sakura, Tulips short time are around
Gardens are my big passion.
I love how mine grows.
With sunflowers the fashion
There are highs, no lows.
Dominating every way,
Their idol, the sun.
Big bouquets for Mother's Day,
Would be so much fun.
Poetry is bittersweet
sweet when the words
strain away the angst,
bitter as reminders
that do not wane.
I take these feelings
from a moment in time,
capturing them
in flowered words
and hold them there
like bouquets for the taking.
They do not wilt,
dry and decay.
But as I hold them there
my hand tires so
but I’ve grown this stem
in the soils of my heart
and am thus bound by every word I pen
subject to this blooming realization
that unlike me
will not wilt.
If you like this, and others, check out my book "As I Write These Words", with a full preview on Amazon (available on all online book stores, as well as ebook format) for many more.
Lady, let me send you bouquets of flowers
As you awake when love greets you good morning
To share and declare an interest in the precious hours
You and I hope to invest in the opening
To a conversation, a consultation to break the ice
Spinning, grinning, listening, beginning
An adventure into a new world where twice
We dare to defy odds and build a new planet
Where free to maneuver we dare to slice
A swathe of bliss limited only by the target
You and I set as we surge forth and reach
New frontiers limpid and liquid enough to get
To unexplored regions where the affection horizons switch
Standards of conception and perception to delight
Discoveries you and I make as we stitch
A panorama where melodrama moves to light
Up the slope of hope we appreciate in our flight
To share and declare an interest in the precious hours
In which you let me send you bouquets of flowers.
My Best Bouquets
Exotic crocuses and ferns, Appalachian Trail …
Baby’s breath that takes one’s breath away -
Orchids and epiphytes near inland waters of KwaZulu-Natal
A few from Fynbos, near Table Mountain
Even a national flower, the Protea, illegal
To take (when we camped only once, New Year’s weekend, when I was innocent and practising Yoga)
From my mountain, near my grandest river, the Tugela ...
At the Drakensberg. Even my street had that Name
They are not on my table, here in Virginia
No, not even in Maryland, a Great State …
Nor in Athens (Ohio) where all roads lead to
(or leave forever)
Nor even in some backyard, of friend or former foe
I never picked these. Not one!
The Universe thanked me for Consenting Consciousness
For sharing more of Presence, less of clutter and Form
When all forms go, only Consciousness - the One - remains.
Bouquets, Grains of Wheat, and Other Love
For two years there was one little boy,
And though without a brother he "explored,"
Then in the spring in his grubby little hands,
He would appear with a bouquet at the back door.
Wild daisies or dandelions or a buttercup,
His grubby little face with a smile looked up.
Mudder, I brought you a nice bouquet,
And that's what he did that day to play.
Another little boy described much the same,
Picked different plants that pleased him,
Then there were two pretty back door bouquets,
Maybe an iris of my own was among them.
And the long awaited little girl,
Attracted by wild grass that blew,
She gathered up her "grains of wheat,"
She thought Chicken Little to be true.
Each child thought he was the original one,
And I never would blow a cover,
Iris, roses, buttercups in the dew,
Even sticker-filled little yellow clover
Every time I see a flower I see your face inside
I love to look at flowers, their beauty cannot hide
See, flowers are so beautiful in ways that we can know
Through sweetly scented petals, in colors of rainbows
Bouquets of lovely orchids, bring thoughts and memories
Of dreamy dreams of meadow walks, and picnics under trees
I've had all sorts of dreams with you, walking lover's lanes
And always we are hand in hand, that common thread remains
Connecting all my thoughts of you with one unbroken twine
That weaves its way and sews the stitch that seals those thoughts as mine
I see your face right now my dear, do you know? I don't suppose
But if you could see me here right now, I'm looking at a rose
My soul is bleeding, bleeding,
as a thousand sharp daggers stab me;
for the headstones are green mossed,
and I hold to my heart tattered memories;
like decaying bouquets,
and will 'till my last gasp !
_____________________
April 10, 2022
Poetry/Free Verse/Like Decaying Bouquets
Copyright Protected, ID 04-1446-865-10
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Bite Size Poem, No 42
sponsor, Line Gauthier, Judged 05/01/2022
First Place
Driving along the roads of today,
You can’t help but see as you go on your way.
Beautiful roadside bouquets in full bloom,
A teddy that should be, in a child’s bedroom.
This sign of the times can be seen everywhere,
You can’t help but look, you stop and you stare.
Your thoughts are with people you have never met,
Saddness fills your heart, you’ll never forget.
But you will forget as you move away,
The flowers, the teddy, which you’ve seen today.
The sadness that filled your heart with such pain,
Will vanish until you arrive once again.
At the corner, the straight, the narrow winding lane,
These roadside bouquets are without refrain.
That is until we all shall take heed,
And finally reduce our driving speed.
Autumn Bouquets
Gold
Autumn
Magic floats
Umber orange -
Leaves of brilliance flutter autumnal fire
Autumn ponders flaming festival hues
Gathers bouquets -
Ruby trees
Bless the
Fall
8-26-21
Contest: Double Tetractys 8
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Picture #3
On Mother’s Day
we buy chocolate
and bouquets of flowers
Write her cards
with syrupy thoughts
wait in restaurants for hours
As if this thanks a mom and mother
for all she does for us
Think what you will ~ I say it is unjust
are these bluebells from Scotland, England, Texas, Virginia or Spain?
I have seen a video, but am not sure, so try to expand my brain.
do they grow in hedgerows, grassland or at the edge of a wood?
they are lovely bluish-lavender hyacinths, I would say if I could.
their bright tubular flowers bloom along with tulips, in May.
attracting pollinators like bees, butterflies and moths along their way.
bluebells symbolize gratitude, humility, everlasting love and constancy.
I want them for my bridal bouquet says my six-year-old-cousin Dee.
bridal bouquets already? We older cousins scoff at the silliness of this.
white bluebells symbolize purity says Charlene, reading from a list.
why would they be called bluebells if they are white? I ask.
getting back to the country of origin, a rather daunting task.
Roses blood painted petals shine.
Thorns defending savage ripping hands.
Gloves are cheating!
Go pick on something your own size!
Tulips won't bite, but they take revenge.
They flourish in fresh churned soil,
generously fertilized
by bodies deeply buried.