Best Corsages Poems
Just as days long ago, when decorum resolved,
before composure, and poise,.. were corsages, unknown
Where propriety mattered, and was favored as gold,
high society, has gathered to flavor their tea
There's a trellis, embraced by a rose climbing vine
Places are set, for dining in jade
beneath shadows that stretch under arthritic old trees
While slivers of sunshine, squeeze through the branches
of silver leafed limbs, in magnolia bloomed shade
Tea will be served, by large knuckled hands
at several round tables dressed with Swiss lace designs
Wearing lavender silk is our proper Grand Dame'
who fits her surroundings, as vintage as wine
Voices are lilting like the birds in the trees
Laughter and chatter, mingle with soft, summer breezes
A bouquet of old friends, around a few scattered tables.
Silver coifed hairdos, to make celebration
Crepe myrtle and wrinkles, beneath ashes and maples
Water cress munchies, and triangle creations
Sweet honey-suckle, tucked over the porches.…
Rose petal blossoms, are painted on china
Bridge cards, tumble by Blue Willow dishes
Biscuits from England, crumble sublimely
Large bosoms bouncing, and big floppy hats
Gossip dished up with lemon-sliced frowns
Up in the tree is the neighbor's calico cat
who catches a glance, and a chance to crawl down
Are they ladies of leisure, from a time that is lost?
Or a painting I've seen on the wall from the past?
______________________________
Inspired By the Garden Party Contest
Sponsored By Cyndi McMillan 6/6/14
The aroma of mellow gardenias, the dance of a ballerina,
the sound of an Italian concertina
Purple, shaded, toe shoes that glide across a stage with
footlights and an applause of praise.
Tender thoughts to remember, in winter, Spring or even
a blustery, Midwest September.
Birthdays that my parents bought me corsages for, and
many relatives with presents at the door.
Birthday dinners on ivory and gold linen with candle lights,
such elegance.leaves, my soul, sparkling bright.
Decades later, I recall, my little daughter, Maria born three
days prior to my birthday, was the most blessed gift from
God~overall!
I may be eight-five today, but I still am full of life and to plan
to play, full-out, till God calls me home on my final day.
3/13/2023
lotus flowers ~
corsages of the river
a date with Summer
3/6/2018
The grand madam wore double strains of opal perils,
Around her collar of white lace, in eloquence personified,
She’s cultures Lady of utter refinement, curtsying to noble
And high brad’s aristocrats alike.
In fragrances of memories I’ve drifted backwards,
To a time of Lillie’s corsages tied upon white gloved
Wrists, long gowns of silk that trailed behind ladies
Of status and grace.
Glided carriages adorned with opulence’s wealth,
Lined these main streets busy thoefairs,
Drawn by horse powers elect.
Pulling these beguiling vessels beneath oil lamp light,
Did the pampered horse flesh travel, delivering the
High born royals, from fancy balls, to posh dinner
Parties and the rich man’s society clubs.
Gentries Gallant dapper Dan’s went a courting,
Seeking beauties ungloved hands, with sweet kisses
Of vows promise, yet a dowers riches blinded their
Eyes, to the spoiled countesses true nature, so these
Court Jesters with mouths full lies deceptions,
Got their own back lashings tongue, in the end.
In these arena of wealth and fortitude, did Madame
So travel, amongst the crimson carpet walking
With prides stride, holding her head held high,
Never exposing the lower birth from which
She’d been birthed.
For she knew the truth hidden behind these
Fanciful fans of lavender and lace lay masks
Of masquerades charades, and games of
Fortune were played by dollar’s gains, not
The feelings of heart.
True class exudes not from ones pedigree,
Or families wealth and power, but instead
It comes from within, honor, duty and a
Soul’s valor of spirit.
At the evenings final climatic hour,
This mistress of the wise, seeks her humble
Shafto’s warming bower, sitting in her chamber
Of isolation, she smile at the portrait hanging
Above her mantels fire place.
Whispering slowly, soon beloved, she blows him a
Final kisses farewell, then drifts into infinities
Drifting realm of for-get-me-knots.
Behold its Madame’s last curtain call,
Let us all throw red roses at her feet,
For if a lady of true elegance ever existed,
On this earth of ours it was her, Madame
Of lavender and white lace, let the opal
Chains of perils thus be broken, as her eyes
Of classes distention, close for the last and
Final time
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Wild, ecstatic, frivolous roses,
Haphazardly draping in staccato pink
The grassy embankment.
Bubbling, gleeful, like so many corsages
On fresh-faced girls at a
High school prom.
Cheerful, radiant, intricate charms,
Proffering subliminal messages
Of joy and hope rekindled.
I’ve always loved the chrysanthemums
Bulbs of yellow, purple, orange, and red,
Filling in blank spaces in the flower bed
Perfect perennials appearing in large sums.
We always called them “mums,” for short
Loved making corsages of the white ones,
Sometimes they remind us of colorful suns
I’m told a favorite flower for a royal court.
FIRST PLACE WINNER
Written August 27, 2022
Submitted to: "8 Lines of Rhyme - Your Favorite Flower" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
Somedays I want to choke myself to death
To strangle my neck until my face turns blue
To wrap the ends of a nylon string to my hands
Like corsages on a ballerina’s wrist
To keep dancing
Until my face turns blue
Somedays I want to carve a pattern on the insides of my wrists
Weaving intricate patterns bleeding red with some sharp elegant cuts on the bluish veins
To watch myself bleed to death
To paint the walls of a room with splattering designs
To burn my body alive
What a waste my brain wants to say
Worth the experience my heart believes
The pain the horror the infliction
To be able to write about a burning body
After having experienced it thoroughly
To watch the blood drip down
Drop by drop, trickling
Darker splashes on the top
Faded ones by the bottom
I wonder if I spin
Would the patterns turn more beautiful
Would it resemble a mandala
If I kept turning and turning and turning
Rhythmical rocking out fourth storied window
pane glimpses near faded play-dough
corsages between sighs. The phone rings unanswered.
Brushing her hair with whose hand is that
must look for teeth soon, someone is coming may
have to smile wistfully at boy afraid of
birthday party clowns danced all night and into the
courtyards of bloomers and buzzards armed to the teeth
must be looked for the breeze lifting umbrella
high hair mussed. Brushing with whose hand I held
off the coast of wherever was warm like
lasagne for breakfast with champions.
Rhythmically rocking and brushing with whose
hand grasping teeth, she asks,
“Does my makeup look ok?”
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_
Flowers are a pretty sight
They shine brightly in the light
Rainbow colors all around
Growing gorgeous in the ground
Some are sharp with thorny stems
Used for romance and love gems
Others are made to bouquets
On unique and special days
Pink, yellow and orange too
Red, green, purple, even blue
To help us smile when we see
This miraculous beauty
Small or big-- bright or sunny
Bees use them to gather honey
So we have a yummy treat
When our bellies want to eat
Corsages being placed on arms
To look pretty at the prom
Graves with a freshly made wreath
For missed loved ones underneath
Soft rose petals on a bed
Thoughts are filling up your head
A ring inside a glass of wine
Asking her will you be mine
Flowers are used every day
In actions and words we say
Smelling pretty-- looking sweet
These miracles can not be beat
They crouch and creep on a narrow line
and bait each other by flicking a tine.
Like angry bulls they paw at ground,
then shadow each other, not making a sound.
They ebb and sprint and flow and rescind,
such skeletal flowers in a winter wind.
For lack of a sister, they court a brother.
With lack of prey they devour each other
and marry the corpse in the tattered gown,
these dead corsages hanging down.
Now they lunge and now they hie,
to wait another day to die.
The time has come
to bid adieu
to all the dreams
I've had of you
Of high school dances
and corsages
like so many
sweet mirages
Sunset walks
along the beach
with you forever
out of reach
Romantic dinners
marriage vows
and every joy
that life allows
No son or daughter
on my knee
to throw a ball
or climb a tree
These things, it seems
have passed me by
And I shall always
wonder why
The mirror has
a tale to tell
but misty eyes
don't see so well
Let this be no
concern for you
For I have seen
your dreams come true
While my old soul
ran out of gas
your every wish
has come to pass
In sowing foolish seed
my Lord
I've surely reaped
a fool's reward
So while I take
my rightful place
no longer shall I
run this race
Since disappointment
came to call
I wish I'd never
dreamed at all
© Mike Wise
5-24-23
Blood
crimson
not called by
any other
name
Bud
perfect
crown petal
Donald's girlfriend
bold
Gold
sun rise
Mary's joy
orange sun sets
red
Moth
and queen
corsages
colorful blooms
large
She
naked
lilies kin
belladonna
pink
Blue
purple
red and white
sun worshipers
pig
Quaint
fancy
velvet tufts
ostensible
face
Liz
easy
popular
multicolored
shade
Dull
deadly
poisonous
insipid bush
fruit
Snap
charming
all colors
incandescent
spikes
Dawn
fragrant
vine climbing
red, blue, purple
tall
Wax
painted
tropical
plushy fibrous
rare
Zen
rainbow
beautiful
garden special
round
Greek
showy
crested dear
rainbow goddess
eye
Cup
bulbous
a spectrum
wedding or vase
dutch
Fall
hardy
giant balls
various kinds
tea
Stretch
yellow
pollen-less
seeds brown center
oil
Stars
tall stalks
sun lovers
yellow, pink, rose
white
Soft
dainty
exquisite
susceptible
wet
White
accent
vase filler
wedding bouquets
pink
Daily bouquets from me just for you
Sprays of fresh dainties each morning anew
They're not made from flowers as one would expect
But corsages of orchids of music bedecked
Posies of pieces played straight from my heart
Unspoken words, melodies of art
Unclad and uncovered, my soul now in view
Be gentle, these bouquets are played just for you
Hot pumpkin bread
Fresh from oven
Warms October
Spicy apple cider
Too sweet but still
Appreciated, in this cold
Orange candle, lit
Flickering, brings in warmth
October ready
Football bets,
On a computer,
game to play
tailgating
with strangers
norm
homecoming
corsages, colors
rehashes memories
bonfire,
yells and shouts
October!
flowers of all kinds
bought in bundles by young teens
impressing their dates