Best Clover Poems
Lay me down in clover
There I'll set my spirit free
To bask in memories of my youth
When life was still carefree
Where dreams of old still hover
With the bees and butterflies
And days of long ago are etched
in cloudless summer skies
Let me smell the color green
How cool against my skin
While I hunt for a four leaf clover
And all life has been
Returning to the time and place
Where innocence remains
Discovering left laughter
In spontaneous refrains
Let me lay in clover
There I'll rest my weary bones
Upon the leaves and flowers
Where my childhood dreams were strewn
So once again I can relive
The laughter and the fun
To find the peace that's waiting there
That beckons everyone.
by Daniel Turner
Where clover grows and rivers wind
Across green meadows, daisies find
A honeycomb"s sweet pattern weaves
Around the tulips graceful sleeves
In pastel clouds of blue combined
With pinks and purples unconfined
Yellow following close behind
And winter's sister takes her leave
Where clover grows
As hummingbirds and bees remind
Cruel April also can be kind
Wings bloom as butterflies believe
A warmer land offers reprieve
And spring arrives in sunlit minds
Where clover grows.
4/30/22
Sometimes I just want to say
I reckon it doesn’t matter any way
I remember once I watched a ghost
Fly into a soul and become the host
As darkness inhales clear blue sky’s
Mothers feeling their children’s cries
In a distant bar there is a singer who sings
As two more betray their wedding rings
Gliding upon the dance floor of lust
If you burn the toast scrape the crust
On the other side of town a call is made
Another soul is offered up for trade
Trading tricks just to ride the white horse
Steady as she goes and stay the course
A little old lady about 60 pounds
Grabs her chest and hits the ground
A baby is born to the most awful fate
Parents drinking from the pool of hate
They had no love and with noting to hold
Play in the snow and you will get cold
An old man could no longer take the strife
He grabbed his chest and fell next to his wife
I guess that is how strong love should be
If you have to go then please wait for me
As suddenly as it started it was all over
A man finally found a four-leaf clover
delicate clover delights gray bunny
tasty and delectable
tickles nose on way in
At first I wasn’t even interested in him
Failures in love made my passion dim
But his chocolate charm won me over
His humor disarms like a gift
Like a green four leaf clover
How lucky I am that he loves so freely
Winning me over certainly wasn’t easy
Dipping my toe into red volcano his love
Was dangerously freeing hot and sexy
Soft hard then soft again touches so grand
Lips quivering legs shivering
Melting my inhibition like
Ice in summer’s July
I cherry chant as I gaze in eyes
Soft touches take me high
make me cry
demolition by soft strides
I hold three magic rocks, in my hand
Rolling them over and over and over
Leaving this reality behind, far behind
Sailing away on my four-leaf clover
The mossy gray stone is no mystery
Up inside this stone lives my past
Sometimes I fear that my memories
Just seem to be fading way to fast
The green stone is so beautiful to see
It tis’ the stone representing my today
Where all is as beautiful as it can be
For it is with the Angels I pray
The blue stone is as deep as the sky
No one knows what the future holds
In it I see the world waiting for me
And all of the stories I have yet told
I hold three magic rocks, in my hand
Rolling them over and over and over
Leaving this reality behind, far behind
Sailing away on my four-leaf clover
I saw a four leaf clover in a field of green.
I picked it up and looked for it's miracle
on each one of it's leaves and this is what
I seen.
Four perfectly split leaves with each it's
own plan.
To bring wealth and knowledge, to any
finder's hand.
One leaf for the courage to reach and pick it up.
Two leaves for a deep faith, a gift from God above.
Three leaves for trust, that it will bring all you dream of.
The fourth leaf is the beauty of knowledge that we receive;
When we see that the miracle of the clover is the wealthy lesson,
to always believe.
Something comes to mind;
It is no evil thing.
Objectified it stands,
Sings loudly with open mouth,
Nearly speechless.
So is the volume turned up,
Turned on
When frogs croak
In muddy ponds
And tadpoles wink the day.
The field is all clover--
Pure;
It feeds the sky,
Pleases the eye,
Is false
Like some lovers.
Frogs are lovers,
Hopping.
People hop too--
Skip, jump, dance
Nightly by the moon,
Restless as sin.
Then they croak.
Where do they go?
They inhabit the hollows;
Their breath is fire.
Personification is no
Evil thing--
A gift, perhaps.
Out of the mud come frogs
In their season.
People inhabit the mud
As well--
Splattered and spotted
Like freckles
They come.
Random is the field of clover
Growing,
Eating the mud,
Feasting like vultures.
The body lies down in clover;
It is covered,
It is decked out in glory
The glory of clover,
All fresh.
Out of the mud
comes a phantom.
He drips with slime.
He carries his pride
Like a tomahawk.
He is clean shaven.
There is no regret.
Wanting peace he comes,
And she the wolf-hound
Is waiting.
at age 12
Chigger bites, mighty small, are no fun.
Hard to see, they will bite any one.
Get bit on that thing,
laughter it will bring,
when it swells like a clover leaf bun.
A hot tub, a long soak and you rant.
The sulfur smells horrid I will grant.
Visiting, the kin,
trying to get in,
but the one gets a look is my aunt.
Jan 2010 For Deb's Contest 9/9/5/5/9
Today we give cheers to St. Paddy
Taken from the sea lake, Lochmaddy
He holds close a shamrock
Trinity clover keychain schlock
Never cotton to a baddy, a saintly laddy
by I Am Anaya
A tough lad born and bred in Lochmaddy
Poor Scottish lad became a priestdaddy
He had what it takes
To rid Eire of snakes
Yelling serpents begone, much thanks to St Paddy
by Robert O'Gorelick
In clover green we lay, our eyes on a bouquet
of white and wooly flowers, heaven's grand display.
As each bud drifted by, as if to make us sigh,
they changed into a downy heart in azure sky -
the perfect prelude to romance that new March day.
Consumed by passion play; our hair in disarray,
we heard above us in the tree a squawking jay.
He seemed to want to split us up; we'd not comply!
In clover green we lay.
We felt like children savoring a sweet parfait,
who linger in that special place they want to stay.
We pledged a love that no one ever could defy
and never questioned what would be should springtime die.
Inhaling scent of heather and each blossomed spray,
in clover green we lay.
For PD's Any GREEN theme Poetry Contest
an
outdoor
vinery-
in my purple
patch
Now Hank's sister had a friend named Clover
An attractive and curvey push-over
So it’s hardly any wonder
Hank was an easy push-under
When his sister had Clover come over.
January 2012
pessimists say weed, highlanders say emblem,
summit of strength, protected by spikelet's and hardiness,
bewitching and captivating flower, irresistible to man and deity.
armed stem defends and supports, tipped with the pride of Scotland,
coverage of clover hardened by the elements and stone,
the luck of the Irish forged by four petite leaves of green,
beauty of the landscape holds the power of this innate country,
tough together, alone are inspired by the magic of Ireland.
welsh pride holds the immense beauty of this tubular trumped flower,
colour of the sun, kissed by raindrops, blessed by a lush green land,
elegant and graceful, this adept nation holds this flower in their hearts,
the proud stance exclaiming its right to its land of the fathers.
I was riding a round in my truck
When I ran over an Irish duck
While holding a clover
He knew it was over
He simply ran out of luck