Best Corolla Poems
Coffee bean scent still fills the air
with each new sunrise in our log cabin
My arms around me embrace the winds of winters gone.
Every sky-night the glass-pane glows in silent mist
Lunar limbs stream through bedroom blinds
reflecting shadows on empty sheets.
Star clusters shine'bove velvet shores
sand-wish away from my bare toes
Another day, another month, another year
and a thousand thought,
Can't preserve time or make a clone.
First magnolia blooms on a stripped branch
Buzzing bees extract nectar from a moist corolla
Pastel wings flutter on melting icicles
Sunbirds return with a sweet song,
But what is a song without the symphony
What is music with no slow dance.
His hand-pressed petal still marks the chapter
between stained pages
The dusty shelves recall my mind
recall my heart, recall my soul.
For the last time before tomorrow
these eyes would linger ,
Before leaves curl , before buds wither
Before moons move on, and I let go.
Revised repost.
Coffee bean scent still fills the air
with each new sunrise in our log cabin
My arms around me embrace the winds of winters gone
Every sky-night the glass -pane glows in silent mist
Lunar limbs stream through bedroom blinds
reflecting shadows on empty sheets
Star clusters shine'bove velvet shores
Sand-wish away from my bare toes
Another day,another month,another year
and other thoughts
I can't freeze time or make a clone
First magnolia blooms on a bare branch
Buzzing bees extract nectar from a moist corolla
Pastel wings flutter on melting icicles
Sunbirds return in a sweet song
But what is a song without the symphony
What is music with no slow dance
His hand-pressed petal still marks the chapter
between stained pages
The dusty shelves recall my mind
recall my heart,recall my soul
For the last time of many a time
these eyes would linger
Before leaves curl, before buds wither
Before moons move on
and I let go.<>
As I saw you for the first time
Our eyes got locked in an instant
I don’t know what feelings flashed past me then
All I knew, I was gripped by a strange restlessness
Was it a feeling of pleasant ache or rising mirth?
Standing befuddled, I forgot myself and stood lost.
Coming back to the real world, you were gone
Why did my heart miss a beat all of a sudden
As if I was denuded of a beautiful moment.
The next time I met you
The world shrunk into a small ball
Where only you and I existed.
Overwhelmed by the language in your eyes,
A language so fluent in silence, I stood,
Inhaling the sweet scent around you.
Your every expression suggested a love reciprocal.
My eager eyes found their way up scanning you
From foot to crown when you stood close to me.
On looking at you with a possessive glance,
A wild desire unfurled in me like the petals of a rose.
As our meetings grew more frequent,
You arched like a lovely rainbow
In my blank grey sky, once devoid of all color.
You came into my life not with sound,
But with the silence of a dew drop
That sticks to the blade of a leaf, glistening.
When sun sets and the world wraps in darkness,
When everyone withdraws to silent repose,
I remain awake, sometimes the whole night
Dreaming of you trying to decode every expression
That fleets past your sentient face.
I wonder what thoughts play back in your head
When you sit alone in your leisurely hours!
Do you ever dream of me or of our lovely moments together?
How I wish to suck the nectar from your lips,
As a bumble bee that digs deep into the corolla
Of a blood red aster and emerge jubilant
With pollen stuck close to its hairy body!
Now as a tattoo I wear your handwriting
On my palms for all the world to see.
When you are away, I miss you to the very core.
In the silence of the night, when the stars,
Amorously congregate around the waning moon,
I burn with desire that grows unsatiated
And I script my passions of romance
On the heaving chest of a white paper, I hold.
It has been said you are all just bricks in the wall -
confined and coffined in concrete, your moments
magnified in mortar, souls stone-stippled.
But listen: you are as flowers, individuals efflorescing -
shy eyes of violets, fragile forget-me-nots
unforgettable in pews of blues, sunshine celandines
beaming from sunless corners, strident daffodil trumpets
with everything to tell. Some will grow apart -
wayside wanderers, wayward and cast out.
Some forever up against the world-wall.
You unfold as petals, to sing in tongues of the sun,
in golden tonals, corolla contraltos, a floral choral,
soprano sepals, hibiscus hymns to him and her.
Flowering through stone, blossoming through gloom,
though shadow-dusted with dusk's lilac bloom.
Baptised in the dew of the new which forges
a world anew, transformed by the higher light
which highlights your days, gilded pollen-gold.
Days lengthen as rays warm walls, edges and corners
sun-softening, souls becoming sun-stippled.
Listen: these are the petalled messages to you.
scrubbing with her hands
red stains from the priest's collar
- strawberry picking
choosing wallpaper -
the red-breasted cardinals
in my shopping bag
Last night of harvest -
reflection of red blood moon
in his empty glass
red cherry blossoms
before next winter follows
-his last picnic morn
soft vermillion wings
flutter on her bare shoulder
- the first glimpse of Spring
Its vermillion wings
perching between rose petals
sips of ambrosia
scarlet wings flutter
upon a dry corolla
unsweetened nectar
Inspired by Silent One 's haiku /senryu 5//7/5 syllables
using the colour red - not for the contest
Rose petals blossoming out from the heart softly silk
starbursts brightly sitting a regal flower kissed
By loving sunshine sweet glowing beauty dances
your delicate curling petals so beautiful
Like a butterfly's wings fluttering eyelids mist
engaged upon a glance sweet fragrance whispered dew
Embalmed by the perfume of such treasure found gift
it is here that an arrow of gold strikes home dear
sweet velvet corolla crumples fragile breathless
Spaceward: genesis, obedience, fathomless: universe.
In Cerulean: lambent, sullen, discernible: Close ignite.
With harmony: hypaethral, skyward, aether: womb hiccups
Whelm time: serenade, stardust, drizzles: diamond dust,
Overall trends: extinguish, slumber, wonder: celestial hymn,
By extolling: Argyle, twinkle, soothing: miraculous rule
Alabaster Gypsum: portholes, peering, ogling: rain glints
Rubicund Jocund: ventral, sheqalim, vivid: lured stars
Exalt air: Blistering, bleeding, molting: Corolla collide
Orotund Moire: Kaleidoscopic, sentient, dusk: carnal life
Grab fistful: Dripping, purple, precipitation: Sunburnt sky
Dodging Venus: Flytrap, ill-wishers, pyramids: Shift astern.
This variation on sonnet XL1 to illustrate what Kuhlmann intended .
kuhlmann is a verse poem of two phrases interspered with three related monosyllabic stem- words(nouns,adjectives )with an integral title.The label and form is derived from the baroque poet Quirinus Kuhlmann's 50 sonnet
form Love-kiss XLI
Poem inspired by the sonnet penned by Brian Stand
The Wonder Mobile broke today
Of course it would happen
Why wouldn’t it
4 cylinders running on 3
Getting out to push probably much faster
Poor little Corolla
It had a hard life.
Neglected some love’n
It pees all over, grumbles when it starts
Brakes kind of funny, but the horn is loud
Might not stop on a dime
But you will hear me coming
Washed twice in 11 years
Driven around the block to go next door
Years of waking up in wonder
Will my car start today?
Am I catching the bus today?
It all caught up to me today
Maybe I will drive to the Ferrari lot
Trade it in, what can I get
Maybe I will humble myself
Fix the Wonder Mobile
Give it some love’n
And wash it a third time
=======
True story, my car really did break today.
=======
Mr. Spider is an ugly looking creature. He has a hairy face and arms. However, the hairs on the top of his head are somewhat thinner than those on his face, and scattered all over here and there. His hairs looked dark, rough, and stiff, but those hairs in his beard, which covered on his broad and flat face, were grayish white. Mr. Spider has a pair of sharply pointed claws on the end of his thin clumsy-looking finger. Moreover, he has hiding his sharp and crooked teeth behind his bushy beard. His two big, dark, and atrocious eyes never blink or move but fixed on one spot from behind the shadow where he was squatting down.
Ms Butterfly is an elegant high socialite. She always wears the colorful robe. She glides and dances in the air as if she were a piece of gorgeous floating corolla. She didn’t eat any solid food. She flies in the air and stops on one flower bloom to the other for delicacy of sweet nectar. She enjoys it, for it keeps her in good shape and enables her to maintain her coquettish figure forever. Ms Butterfly, however,
is an arrogant and selfish lady. She never considers the feeling of the others. She acted only for her own good, yet she was a just simple lady.
It was a sunny afternoon in early spring when Mr. Spider caught Ms Butterfly in his cobweb. When Mr. Spider saw her in his cobweb, he didn’t wait a moment. He dashed toward his prisoner. However, when he came close enough to grab her with his hands, he refrained from catching her, because he saw her helpless slender body trembling in the gorgeous robe, and her beautiful but fearful eyes, asking him
for mercy.
Since then, Mr. Spider has never left his cobweb. With his fascinating eyes, he has followed and stared at elegant Ms Butterfly from a distance, while comparing his ugliness with a gargoyle and thinking of his cursed life, as if he were Quasimodo on the bell tower of Notre-Dam, watching and admiring tenderhearted, naïve, and lonely Esmeralda.
[Although Ms Butterfly was not deserve for Mr. Spider’s pure and wholehearted admiration because of her frivolous, flighty, and insincere personality.]
Second Quiz with even broader hints for blind poets
The Princess Anna stood
arms half-akimbo
at the scrawny edge of the receding bank
her Polonaise pollarded down
to her exposed tarsus heels
A wilting comb of fern and shrivelled grass
still clinging to her rump
mud trailing in crusty clumps around the soles
half exposed at the base of the trunk
A soft curling gust about her waist
shook the panticles of her bells
light translucent purple corolla
peeling tinnitus at her lobes
out of the gathering Siberian clouds
sounded like her father calling:
“ Pavlovnia! Pavlovnia! My Darling!
Shake! Shake! Your ample locks!
And let your capsicles pop and drop
Your myriad minute pods
Wafting towards Tsarist towers
Tintinnabulating on troikas and travois! ”
“ Hélas! Hélas! My Royal Pa!
I’m wed for life to nether water-logged land
See how the wind furrows the leathery waters
Licking and tickling my bared soles!
Here with one sawn shoulder and one twisted arm
My hip sags with each dastardly axe-raised slap
Leaning onto the other talus’s side
They say it’s for my own own good
My head was severed at the start
My heart-shaped tresses thick in the heat
Now float on the faint muddy bank tide!
I dream of the day
My Phoenix tubers will climb
And seek the sunrise over the Eastern divide
In lands where the waters drain
Whole crowns of dark-green broccoli buds
Before the sun goes down in the Taiga! “
“ O! I’ll tell your whey-faced mother, My Dear!
Her eyes look long past the Western Gate!
Till your timbers all grow strong with sheen
And we’ll look for a handsome Prince, My Dear!
Sturdy as oak-bound sails on brine!
O! We’ll cut and soothe the grainy boards
Till the dressing-chest’s adorned
With trefoil liana round mirrors and knobs
On the day of your dowry’s prize
For you! For you alone! My Dear!
Down in the lowlands shut in fear! “
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Coffee bean scent still fills the air
with each new sunrise in our log cabin
My arms around me
embrace the winds of Winter gone
Every sky-night windowpanes glow
in silent mist
Lunar limbs stream through bedroom blinds
reflecting shadows on empty sheets<
Star clusters shine 'bove velvet shores
sand-wish away from our bare toes
Another year,another month,another thought
I can't freeze time or make a clone
First magnolia blooms on a bare branch
Buzzing bees extract nectar from moist corolla
Coloured wings flutter on melting icicles
Sunbirds return with a sweet song
But what is a song without a symphony
What is music with no slow dance
His hand-pressed petal still mark the chapter
between stained pages
The dusty shelves recall my mind
recall my heart,recall my soul
For the last time these eyes would linger
before leaves curl,before buds wither
before moons move on,and I let go.
kindney stone children out from god
passing through blood and blindfolded
angels.
Passing on the left with turn signals
flashing from different angles..
now im pretty sure there is a proverb
in the headlights of a 92 toyota corolla which
passes by impregnated robotic dragon
flies.
i am reminded of the sun dried
opaque
exo-skeletal bugs lying along the back of
the rear window.
somehow they seem more motionless and
beautifully tranquil than before.
the sun flares out and has never seemed
more naked to adore.
i must not touch the blisters that
form on my dashboard.
luckily there is a simple little proverb
in the ashtray.
"vanity of vanities and of what lies beneath?
well thats simple in this sunny freeway sheath.
changing lanes watching the paint peal
off a dented hood of damascus steel.
Road Rager Gnome
There I was a going home,
4pm traffic going flowing,
driving me little Corolla, going,
when I saw this fool Road Rager ,
he seemed to lunge his car at me ,
and stop just short deliberately,
to try to cast some fear, in me,
just a bit of temper black,
I must have cut him off, perhaps,
His new Ford shining glass like wax,
He flew up the inside track,
And cut me off sharply,
Whack,
I’d left the braking a little late,
My bumper bruised 2 doors his fate,
His fear now multiplying,
Me ole car was critisising,
this silly flaming chap,
He roared amongst on-coming cars,
Put one on the footpath, shocked alas,
Flew down a side-street, so harassed,
His tyres had smoke arising,
So I kept on a driving home,
No bumper bent on me bloody own,
A lesson taught, the Rager Gnome,
Don’t try it I’m advising.
Don Johnson
High in the dunes, feeding on Beach Grass,
Looking over their land in the Carova sand,
Majestic, they stand.
On the beach they frolic and roll,
Mares and stallions enjoying a stroll,
Tagging along are the trailing foals.
Stallions challenge others the same,
As another band of Wild Horses try to stake a claim,
Fierceness prevails on both sides,
One must win before the fight subsides.
Trucks and jeeps racing through divides,
One band leaves, heads for the dunes,
Frolicking and rolling in the sand resumes,
Wild Horses of Corolla dance to their own tune.
Coffee bean scent still fills the air
with each new sunrise in our log cabin.
My arms around me embrace the winds of winters gone
On every sky-night glass-panes glow in silent mist
Lunar limbs stream through bedroom blinds
reflecting shadows on empty sheets.
Star clusters shine 'bove velvet shores
Sand-wish away from my bare toes.
Another day,another month,another year
and other thoughts.
I can't freeze time or make a clone.
First magnolia blooms on a bare branch
Buzzing bees extract nectar from a moist corolla
Pastel wings flutter on melting icicles
Sunbirds return in a sweet song
But what is a song without the symphony
What is music with no slow dance?
His Hand-pressed petal still marks the chapter
between stained pages.
The dusty shelves recall my mind
recall my heart,recall my soul.
For the last time of many a time
these eyes would linger
Before leaves curl,before buds wither
Before moon moves on
and I let go.