Best Efflorescent Poems
A wooden flute,
I glimpsed among my mother’s treasured keepsakes in childhood.
being curious, asked her once…
I didn’t notice anyone playing the flute!
Why it seemed the most precious than everything else she cherished!
Hers was the saddest smile when she told me about her brother,
who played the flute when she sang,
passing away from tuberculosis, in his twenties ..
the implacable separation from her most loved one..
the two efflorescent roses on the same branch…
one fell and perished, when it could have blossomed and
charmed the earth with its fragrance!
When my mother passed away,
she asked me to bring the flute,
couldn’t believe my eyes ..how much comfort it brought to her,
touching and caressing that musical instrument with her fragile fingers…
and her last sigh was peaceful!
September 5, 2021
"This Or That - Vol. 6 " Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
The blood and lapis daylight sets
in ether. How the mind resets
brutality of winter chill
with February's codicil;
what gossamer a dream begets.
I hear the crickets in the dark,
their clicking takes up where the lark
has been. The flagrant marigolds
have huddled into twilight's folds,
on sanguine nightfall to embark.
The eastern zephyrs fall and rise
with rapid movement of my eyes
and echo whispers midnight makes
of blood white trails on moonlit lakes.
In silhouette I recognize
a dogwood, though can only sense
its glowing coral consequence.
The blossoms tell me they comprise
sweet spawn of sun rays in disguise
and capture all my heartbeats hence.
Now honeysuckle is entwined
on crisscrossed pathways of my mind
with jasmine in a potpourri
to conjure shamrock reverie
that leaves the pewter scape behind.
Around the lambent dogwood tree
alone upon that verdant lea
buds can prosper, bees will hum.
As though seduced by opium
I greet a vista I can't see,
at least not quite. I know it's there
and feel the dogwood everywhere,
behind me, flanking left and right,
an omnipresence in the night,
like answers to unconscious prayer.
Now high upon a clovered scarp
the tree is standing clear and sharp.
In silence I see restless blooms
play music that my ear assumes
is chiming dulcet as a harp.
Such Efflorescent star bursts splay
like windmills on a gusty day
that in ebullience do portend
a vibrance that will never end
and all my reticence allay.
In waking to a winter storm
that's February's gelid norm
I long still for my fulgid tree,
resplendence that surrounded me,
but only meet a turbid swarm.
I rise and pull back hermit drapes
to see the torrid flurries traipse,
yet through the chaos can discern
the leafless frame for which I yearn
beyond the window storming scrapes.
The dogwood stands just as before
unclad upon the icy moor
with nascent berries undeterred
as though through humble verse and word
like daylight through an unclosed door.
2/23/18
Strength Thru Adversity
Gregory R. Barden
I rest the rhapsodic morn along rustic shadows,
as if it were a sapphire,
i shall serenade beautifully beneath our efflorescent forests,
my hands await you like a rustic moon,
i shivery surreptitiously in my cashmere bowers,
the harmonies have dale's autumn glow,
the have bough's idyllic fragility,
ahhh, my future love,
my love,
my heart beats eagerly,
between the romance of a piano,
the season's have melody's romantic bough,
i will not wait me surely,
the feathers have glow's sparkling willow,
the lullaby leaps,
your silhouettes run the constellation,
you ,my love,
are my distant,eternal,
and yet, pastoral horizons
Stars efflorescent
Creation and destruction
Violent beauty
betwixt the circuitous cocoon of rose hips wrestles a world of unfathomable infamy
induced by light and shadow murmur influences ridicules scent.
conscripted into nature's loggerhead shrike chirp by forces unknown
influenced by the pestilence of greeds monkey see monkey do, ovary retards.
up from the grave of the anchor root rises the sun of expansion
cleansing the cane to shoulder its crown watching bud eye fornicate.
obliging the filament petition to pullulate the wind bats its lash
awakening the anther to feed its feeder roots.
efflorescent anatomy of stamen and pistil captivate beauties awe
apathy will bloom its withered rose until perceived with the nose!
The ashes of the years diffuse in dust,
Their motes exuding mauvish glow
That alters gray to black. But I’ve no trust
In Time, that cut-purse thief, who robs us so.
For, grave ward borne, my gathered decades shorn
From off my limbs, my soul but cuts adrift
And cheats the maggotry of Death. Forlorn
And cheated, Satan rues my flight! Christ’s gift
Of sweet perpetuation foils those worms of Earth
Who rend my flesh when nothing live, lives there.
My human husk decays…to ‘wait rebirth.
Ethereal, my soul’s exultant, where
Abide infinities of angels…white
And efflorescent…beaming lucent light.
This is the third
time
I've planted
climbing roses
The first two failed
to fulfill
my romantic fantasy
of
efflorescent roses
flaunting their
naughty
frilly pink bodice
and hooped skirts
draped in loops
like gingerbread
scroll-work
or fleur-de-lis
gamboling,
sauntering
across the white
French trellis
I guess I'm really a
fairy trapped
inside this 5' 8"
terrestrial body
I love how the
amethyst
moon-flowers
with the pentagram
tattooed on their
belly button petals
cast a magic spell
over the garden
And the night
blooming jasmine's
enchanting fragrance
wakens the
dreaming gardenia
and makes everybody
including our blue
eyed ragdoll kitten
a wee bit tipsy
I curl up on my
midnight Jhoola
topiary shadows
crouch
like royal sphinxes
in the starlit
courtyard
and reflecting pools
of water
from summer rains
swirl open their
third eyes
~portals to another
world~
A wooden flute,
I glimpsed among my mother’s treasured keepsakes,
Often Wondered.....
Why it seemed the most precious than everything else she cherished!
A pathos lurking underneath the saddest smile, she told me...
The flute was the only thing she had of her brother,
who, in their childhood, played music when she sang,
He passed away from tuberculosis, in his twenties ..
the two efflorescent roses on the same branch…
one fell and perished, when it could have blossomed and
charmed the earth with its fragrance!
The other one clung to the tiny piece of memory he left..
A Symphony Of Love!
FIRST PLACE
Edited " Last Sigh" on September 24, 2021
For "P" Old or New Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
The opaque grains of darkness drizzle silently
from the curved cauldron of the seamless sky,
the silver embroidered satin tapestry rolls out
from the cornucopia of the falling night,
as the twilight sequins dissolve in azure ambiance.
The music of silence echoing from the nocturnal sky
wakes up the sleeping stars one by one,
designs the enticing lattice of amorous crown.
The moonbeam motif distils the stellar tinsels,
makes drifting dream of you for me.
The dust of radiance drips in the mystique night
from the crystalline bowl of the blooming stars.
The twinkling trance is thus designed
for our love to serenade in the night garden,
with the symphony of silver starshine.
The luminous lucent mind longingly mystique,
multi-facetted clear piece of gorgeous gem,
shines sublimely with the transparent thoughts,
glistened by the soul-suffusing sensuous rays,
the emanation of efflorescent emotions.
Clear of the cluttering cloud of surreptitious self-qualm,
the diaphanous psyche resolute in the ordained orbit,
stays shining like the stars of clarity
in the enlightened transmuted trajectory,
out of the ambiguous depth of abysmal abyss.
The gleaming pearls of euphoria in argentine night,
make the gossamer image of passion perception,
convey in convivial irradiance the notion,
everything has a time to come and go,
like the inspiring instants of effervescent stardust ecstasy.
Efflorescent bud
Bursts myriad of colors
In the blooming spring
Please do not disturb the beast in its peaceful and quiet place
Where the dead leaves are dancing merrily in a gentle wind of faith
Along skeleton paths of disheveled trees you can hear them whispering
Honoring autumns remnant decay and conjuring efflorescent spring
While birds begin to whistle in such a sweet soliloquy of melodies
Runaway ye fearless child into the darkness where you sleep
And clear a path for the wild ones leading to your hollowed grove
Where I found feasting among the dead a red blossoming velvet rose
Surrounded by a halo of darkness under a piercing blade of sun light
Tempted by its pleasure the beasts will insist that it's alright
Then by thoughtful contemplation I plucked it as blood mixed with tears began to drop
Painfully I pulled every petal repeating "she loves me so, she loves me not"
My Oh My how the colors have changed with the wondrous seasons reign
I guess she no longer loves me, but isn't that just natures way
Shy away you phantoms and let the new cycles of life rebuild their homes
Leave the undead to worry for themselves and let my luminous flowers grow
~ JJF~
Geraniums
with brilliant
colors like sunset,
sway under cypress trees of the scented hills,
as April winds
invite the anxious lovers not to engage in words;
yet silence
allows their romance...
Daisies
of bright yellow,
as that they were
painted on canvas
by young and vibrant Giotto,
who constantly pursued true perfection
in his unique style;
a shepherd boy he was:
soon to be worldly famous
as one of the greatest painters!
And Florence like Naples,
ignited his ambition
and passion to make his
striking paintings look so real...
Lilacs
of different colors,
swarming the idyllic landscape,
to give spring
an exuberant gentleness and more essence;
to make the observer fonder
of their existence,
and most-times the bright sunrise
blends in to inspire
whoever contemplates,
to concede this transformation too unreal...
Roses
dangling from small balconies;
gardenias gracefully waving
in the the stone-paved square,
bewildering me with their incomparable beauty!
I stumble upon the wild flowers blooming abundantly,
and I'm so amazed and unable to speak poetically:
that you have made Nature
an efflorescent Paradise of harmony!
I will await three long seasons,
and treasure these vernal petals;
not fearing time or adversity...
U F O is a W d o p u y t r e s a d f g h k l k m n b v c xz q?
Feeling ill cam be understood to be akin to laying down upside down on a constantly rotating piece of grass that moves so rapidly that ground cannot really fathom a place to stand still. But stillness is not stagnation nor is it syllables stalling for stillness is often likened to a giant hexagonal bee swarm rotating royally signalling to jester fish that the top of a yogurt reads the same as the top line of a paragraph but minus the full stop. Equations equipped equatorial effluent efflorescent elephant. And a stripey square ball rolled away in a hexagonal formation before jumping into the swimming pool. Bowl then. But only wearing a bowler hat. Great. Now that is done the items can be imagined to be interested in inkwells'. Fantastical news for ten z frames, a beeswax curdle, a shrinkable curry, a curriculum carriage, and a force ten thousand gale singing a pleasant hymn. Loudly. While practising gymnastics with a fork lift truck and a lorry in a leotard. Z organizationally Z at forty one knots knitting ro eighteen balls of wool lugging loaded leaf loaves. X
The efflorescent dream to imbue
my opulent languor,whose ripples
vestigial,untoward,hissing,waving
the dalliance quite sneaky peaky.
Is it the murmur of a mellifluous song
yet to be sung by the divine entity!
Is it the penumbra of an ethereal beauty
soothing my bosom with its eternal charm !
Sitting by a moss-covered tree illuminated by sunlight at three,
he plays the very song that his anscestors played yesterday;
remembering what the peaceful and wild land was and will be...
by accepting the fact that his tomorrow is decided by destiny.
He can spend an entire afternoon playing a hand-made flute color chestnut,
as every breeze-lulled maple tree seem to vanish in the increasing, grey fog;
and if his music with shrilling, melodic notes is a devise to find his stranded dog,
he will have the best friend to guide him safely home through beams of twilight.
Play, handsome warrior the melody you forefathers played on those efflorescent days
underneath the same oak tree to celebrate their free manhood;
and resembling them with long hair and piercing, dreaming eyes,
you don't expect that intruders from other lands would compromise your happiness.
Foxes, grizzly bears, coyotes and buffaloes hear your music and come around to peek:
they know that you wouldn't hurt them and they wonder who's the Great Spirit;
little they suspect that they will be hunted down by the new-comers from the East;
be their friend, warrior...promise them protection when they'll encounter the Beast.
All that you behold today, may be gone tomorrow making you weep,
grasslands and prairies will tun into towns and cities to make way for greed;
and blood will flow abundantly on meadows where only wildflowers grew...
devastation everywhere with mother's screams by red rivers not so blue.
You must have had dreams of what was coming with a spectacle so gruesome,
take heart...your tomorrow is decided by destiny, pray that you won't be harmed;
continue playing your flute by remembering everything that you deeply loved,
and if you'll die fighting heartless men, I'll remember that look so lonesome.