Best Dahlias Poems
The sage green wall had worn a blank look
until, slightly askew, with a tilt to the left
dangling helplessly, without a complaint
is the pride of an artist, who lacked all constraints.
He dipped into his paints with no sense of restriction
hung it in place without hesitation
giving the viewer a crick of the neck.
It hangs precariously, for an eager assessment
without circumspection, neither yes's or no's...
No hemming or hawing just helter and skelter
Instead, a take me or leave me,... is the quick estimation
Conforming was no issue, just pure bold assumption
Excitement exploded from two eager hands
that thrust it in place, with assured restless haste,
hammered a nail with pride and conviction
and planted it there, with pure ardent fervor
Sharing a warmth of a seasonal decade....
this amateurish, yet delightful landscaped intrusion
sings in the sunshine, and smelling of springtime
shouting with color, and sprinkled with lavender
flavored with turpentine, and oil-painted rainbows
In the lower left corner, is an array of dahlias,
bursting with crimson, never changing or fading
never thirsty for water,
barren of a single, silent, dried up weed
and free of decay, dismay or mold
The amber was gold, the umber was bold,
rust to rust, dust to dust......ash to ash
With him he took all the pride that he found
...still holding the brush stroke of a satisfied smile
___________________________________
For Anthony's Contest: Favorite Artist
Dedicated to someone special in my life R.I.P.
4/16/14 Revised for Anthony's Contest
Deep purple dahlias - plush garden zen
steeps in the moonlight hours. Zappiest buds
sleep in their flower beds - beautiful dreams.
Keep of dazzling pompoms - perpetual studs.
Blaze of royal beauty ~ reign of kindness.
Praise of Queen of Autumn in twilight’s dim.
Sways, the ornamental puffs, sowed in dirt.
Daze of youth plucking stem. Love’s princely whim.
6/10/2021
Contest: Lento 8 Lines
Sponsor: Joseph May
They make me wonder---
What fingers wove the tapestry of their being!
The splash of violet here, mauve there, white with red stripes—
They stand tall and do not bend till the wind forces them to.
Though soft, they manifest dignity.
When stress and depression shoot their thorns,
A glimpse of these beauties spell discipline.
‘We are of the earth and we belong to her.
She has given us beige, yellow, red and has waited
For us to grow, in effort and ecstasy.
When butterflies, birds and bees hum around
We greet them with glee. We fear not.
We bear the heat, the dust and the cold--
Even in pain, in disdain, we find the sun.’
In their company, I find freedom. And
In their being, my soul.
Work of wonder
work of light.
Bend to heaven
dispel the night.
Just
growing
with the flow-
flowers of the
sea
*sea anemone
Shattered glass below my feet causing open wounds
Like the blood pumping blue through this aching heart
My mind has been twisted once again when I thought it was tamed
Love is not the word to describe the pain when love is lost
Fluttering wings of butterflies cause the stomach to excite the brain
Missing her was not what I signed up for with the pen of blue ink
I feel like love is just a golden thought in my dreams of destiny
No need to feel any more when my heart has turned to stone
With endless thoughts of what she's done these tears fall like rain
No longer dancing together hand in hand I am left to dance alone
Wishing this rain would wash away all the pain of losing her
I'm just reminded that dancing alone is what she enjoys the most
As I fight this pain of a broken heart I try to be her friend
For if I lose the one who made me dance like children drinking soda
If I lose the one who still controls my mind, heart, and soul
I'll be left crying alone laying in fields of dying dahlias
On a sage green wall that once wore a blank look,
it dangles helplessly, without a complaint.
It is slightly askew, with a tilt to the left,
giving the viewer a crick of the neck
Hanging precariously, for an eager assessment
without much annoyance, or an "either" or an "or"
Just a "take me or leave me"
with a bolder assumption
that someone will like it, no fear of rejection.
No hesitation came from the hands
that restlessly hung it, with eagerly haste.
He hammered a nail with pride and conviction
and ardently placed it for eyes to embrace
Sharing a warmth of a seasonal decade....
this amateurish, yet delightful landscaped garden
sings in the sunshine, and smelling of springtime
shouting with color, and sprinkled with lavender
flavored with turpentine, and oil-painted rainbows
In the lower left corner, is an array of dahlias,
bursting with crimson, never changing or fading
never thirsty for water,
barren of a single, silent, dried up weed
and free of decay, dismay or mold
Now it is old.........dust to dust......ash to ash
he takes with him the pride he found
...still holding the brush stroke of a satisfied smile
____________________________________________________
colors so rich they overwhelm me
with their brazen scents,
winds so warm, they feel like the
gentle caress of a lover
waters sparkle like your eyes; a
timeless green that turns
gray in the shadows
the sun is thrown from side to side when
its high in the ever burning blue sky
a rose so red, by it's name you know it
smells just as sweet
a dahlia so fragrant, no perfume
can compare
both sweet; both so fine
their lovely scents you give me
make them mine.
fine new fernery
two forgotten dahlias
innocently bud
Orange sunshine, pink butterflies, in dawn buds of hope-
Last night's rain has caused noon blooms in the fields!
Canaries are flying low in a season of scents and scenery;
And the moments are creeping, in response to sultry heat.
A day among varicolored dahlias, at the premiere of life,
As bees are buzzing for honey, at summertime's midlife.
Tall trees cast shimmering shade, all the green afternoon,
Amid life's colorful, lovely, eclectic sights and sounds.
Until delight and fragrance greet dreamy evening eyes,
And deep burgundy sunshine leaves with the butterflies!
Written on 7/7/2021
For: A Brian Strand July 8 Poetry Contest
early summer sun
the first dahlia blooms reaching
up toward the sky
So tangerine apricot carrot colored and marmalade,
Blooms graced the garden of warm sunshine and shade.
Orange were rich dahlias where hummingbirds hummed,
With a rare beauty which left the daylight stunned!
Over with the blues, skies of chiffon clouds danced,
All of a summer, while huge marigold sun entranced!
Orange were the butterflies, searching for delights,
Whereas flame robins flounced and sang day and night!
Devotion Poem, The Black Dahlias
This morning, for a time, you seemed
To have disappeared. I called out to you
From my bed, but the words
Must have been consumed into mute syllables,
For any answering voice, if there was one, was not yours.
I asked the angels to go search for you
And soon they found the traces of your footsteps
Entering into the valley of the black dahlias, where those
Flowers in that valley loom thick, and overlong in season.
You must have entered the black dahlias valley
With some fear, for I am certain you felt unsure
About the consequences of treading
On beauty — wouldn’t some measure of suffering
Follow such an act? And who,
But perhaps the Lord himself
Defines the scope of beauty and
Could mark any count of its maiming?
Did you soon regret your stepping away
And your quick journey into that valley?
Did you then pull up to a questioning halt — having as yet
Sacrificed nothing — and spun around
Wondering how to safely retreat?
The uncountable burgundy/black petals of the dahlias
So closely pack the valley, all their growing
Overlaps, eliminating any sight of the earth.
The black dahlias impressed their image over centuries as
Symbolic of beauty and betrayal, much as
Humanity has done in overseeing its charge of our planet...
And we set our eyes to scan for viable paths
To green, fertile plains anywhere surrounding.
We try to gently reverse and re-claim, to
Over-cross the further striking of beauty.
But, this requires acts of going forth — beyond
Just dreaming or wishing: in the work for now and
New generations of new seeing and clear actions.
Your own return from the valley of the black dahlias,
Struck both our souls. The peace of returning
And the acts of new creation are
As reconcilable as heaven’s full plan for all life here.
While for us, there is no parting, no leaving. Our love
Travels the full labyrinths of the imbued
Patterns of the cosmic kingdom.
**********. ***********. *************
(C) sally Young eslinger10/15/2020
Thanks be to God!
The house on the hill
with its magical spell
has shed the years
possessions they mount
collecting memories
cause the Sun follows us
and the dahlias
with its daydream quality
makes us happy
with all the things we could do
The crickets
In perfect harmony with the frogs
Serenade Bachianas outside our window
Inspiring the candle to a seductive dance.
Tempted by the candle’s charm
Your hands shape into a bird
That flies to the flawless white ceiling
To join her shadow.
Your eyes, two stars
Brighten your lips
As your hands get more and more lost
In this Swan Lake.
I get lost in your kiddish smile
I welcome the blessings of your lips
Your hands gliding my body slowly
Landing on my hips
All I can see are the stars above me.
In this archetypal setting
Set by you and the universe
I surrender my body and soul
I become the host to your passions and desires
And you patent me.
Slowly,
Your silky white skin
Covers my body
And we become one under your heavenly mantle.
The river wants to join
She raises her voice
to announce her grand entrance
And with her wide motherly hands
She claims our bodies.
In her currents
We float throughout the night
Travelling in the rhythm of Bachianas
under the stars
Through fields of vanilla scented purple dahlias.