Best First Blush Poems
Roots and Dandelion Dreams: A Mother's Heart
- Daniel Henry Rodgers
Roots and Dandelion Dreams: A Mother's Heart
- Daniel Henry Rodgers
At dawn's first blush,
milkweed pods,
burst with a sigh,
A feathery shower of,
silk sending secrets...
on the wind's soft cry.
Yesterday they wore a crown of pink
Today they are set free;
like dandelion dreams floating on the vast sea
a thousand wishes taking flight.
I see you spinning gracefully
on dandelion fluff.
each strand like a
glowing thread
forming a halo.
Your laughter flows like
a babbling
brook over stones.
while your tears resemble mist
clinging to ferns in
the whisping breeze.
As twilight falls and fireflies twinkle
like scattered stars,
a new constellation is born.—
a flickering dance in the dimming light
as transient, as a summer evening.
In your eyes wild irises bloom
reflecting the evening sky as
they search for their fragrance.
Amidst meadowlarks songs
welcoming the dawn in morn.
my heart remains intertwined
with yours like a nurturing vine
that delves into the soil
forever connected to you.
You write the poetry of life
moments full of freedom.
Like a ballet of butterflies
a child experiencing wonder,
both wild and free.
No need,
for preaching!
just the melody of the wind
whispering through
the pine trees.
A communication,
a connection that binds eternally.
With patience engraved
in the face of mountains
I stand as a protector.
a sanctuary in this forests
intricate beauty.
While shadows dance in a transient
vanishing performance
My love stands firm like
a redwood sentinel enduring
all challenges.
In the settling of dusk,
where fireflies sparkle,
My presence is like a meadow
where bluebirds dream.
For you,
my child,
are a hawk,
on the wind's caress.
Soaring on thermals,
a spirit,
etched upon your face.
My heart,
a beacon's steady fire,
guiding,
through the unknown,
In this life's,
choreography,
bathed in your,
boundless exploration.
Mother
Sheltering, strong
Branches rustle tales
Roots grip the earth deep
Child
Komorebi 11-8-23
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Komorebi
Sunlight dashes through boughs adorned
In autumn’s scent of red orange crimson
Tossing diamonds of daybreak from their limbs
Into the borning air of dawn
To litter the forest floor in clutter of crystal auroras
Playing hide and seek with shadows,
Awakened by the roster’s first blush,
To prance across branches on tip-toes of brindled magic
As the moon and sun, the darkness and dawn,
Change places in daily do-se-dos,
Leaving fingerprints of light, in moments of intimacy,
When fingers of dappled warmth push back shadows
With celestial sighs of radiance
And flutter like a sparkling flute of luminosity
Cascading in ricochets from oak to elm to evergreen
Until gleeful pandemoniums of white fire
Give birth to awe in strings of burnished zephrys
Draped in jubilees through boughs of dawning beauty
Woven in strands of light as sunshine thinks on loveliness -
Decorations of celebration!
Allow The Dawn To Wake Us
I would write words for you, dipped in beauty and gold
my heart would burst for you, if it were just that bold;
with you, our romance cries out, for an eight day week
with you, I have found the truest of deep love I seek.
Walk with me, to paradise its bright singing birds
Talk to me, your voice sends golden, beautiful words;
stay this night, let our two souls and pure hearts entwine
allow dawn to wake us, let our loving hours shine.
Love does flow with heat for you from my melted heart
honey dipped allure your ambrosia does impart,
time together precious as racing pulse does chime
in amaranthine night of purple passion prime.
Basking in our luscious love lush and heaven-sent
rousing first blush bathes us embraced in our content;
sunrise spreads ardent reds blessing our love story
dawning dew thrills the bloom of our morning glory.
Robert J. Lindley and Susan Ashley
(a collaboration)
July 17,2018
My poet's note: Yet again my dear friend Susan, it is an honor and delightful pleasure to discuss with and write this collaborative, inspiring creation with you.
Your poetic heart and soul is evident in the depths and beauty of the verses you always contribute to our poetry. To have you as a dear friend and then also be so very blessed as to be gifted your time, insight and talent in composing poetry together is a fantastic revelation of your kindness, generosity and high standing character.
Susan's poet’s note: My dear friend Robert, thank you for your gracious invitation to collaborate with you on this luminous piece of poetry. It is my honor to unite our poetic voices once again and a joy to be inspired by your golden verses of rich romance and ardent love. Our collaborations, and your wonderful talent and kindhearted friendship are treasured and I cherish our shared passion for creating poetry.. I truly enjoyed this exquisite poetic and artistic experience with you my dear friend.
" I remember that day
As clear as the crystal springs in June"
only it wasn't June, It was August
the morning air was thick like smoke
it choked me awake
the first blush of day
flushed across the sky
blood red clouds
colored her path
I lay still
like the air
without a hint
of summer's wind
the clock on the wall
tormented me
with the tick, tock,
tick, tock,
its bony hands
seemed to skip along
until I arose from bed
I sipped on coffee
as I took in the news
unsure what my day would bring
...and then I could hear a buzz
as if a fly was making circles
beside the bed, then a ring, ring,
ring echoed within my purse
I stared at the clock
my heart began to beat
faster then time
was it my father
did something happen
I worried as I listened
the voice
was indistinct
as if being choked
I struggled
with my ears
to make sense
of the words
that fell
...and then silence
fell all around
as if deaf
and mute
unable to process
and conceive
the message
my brother,
who turned 49
just the day before
was breathless
like the august wind
no more jokes
or laughter
or candles atop cake
his wick had burned out
within that last breath of air
and it burns, slow
as the years pass
still to this day
yet I'll remember that day
forever more....
pick a line contest
Mustapha Mohammed
"Reflections when the summer breathes"
Sandy Adams 8-22-2013
I would write words for you, dipped in beauty and gold
my heart would burst for you, if it were just that bold;
with you, our romance cries out, for an eight day week
with you, I have found the truest of deep love I seek.
Walk with me, to paradise its bright singing birds
Talk to me, your voice sends golden, beautiful words;
stay this night, let our two souls and pure hearts entwine
allow dawn to wake us, let our loving hours shine.
Love does flow with heat for you from my melted heart
honey dipped allure your ambrosia does impart,
time together precious as racing pulse does chime
in amaranthine night of purple passion prime.
Basking in our luscious love lush and heaven-sent
rousing first blush bathes us embraced in our content;
sunrise spreads ardent reds blessing our love story
dawning dew thrills the bloom of our morning glory.
Robert J. Lindley and Susan Ashley
(a collaboration)
July 17,2018
Poet’s note: My dear friend Robert, thank you for your gracious invitation to collaborate with you on this luminous piece of poetry. It is my honor to unite our poetic voices once again and a joy to be inspired by your golden verses of rich romance and ardent love. Our collaborations, and your wonderful talent and kindhearted friendship are treasured and I cherish our shared passion for creating poetry.. I truly enjoyed this exquisite poetic and artistic experience with you my dear friend.
Mornings to me
are not an exiting crescent moon
glowing gold in the west,
preparing to retire
below a distant tree line silhouette
Scattered footprints
in the glistening dew
on a lush lawn
still dreaming of the day before
Cantaloupe skies tickling
a sleepy horizon,
restless in vivid ribbons
on a wide eyed sapphire canvas
Yawning morning glories
climbing a silent fencepost,
standing guard in the shadows
of a stately oak
Butterflies floating
on dawn’s cool breeze
quietly touching each blossom
in mosaic laced flight patterns
The enchanting coo
of a stirring mourning dove
spreading its wings amidst
woven branched tapestries
Mornings to me
are always you,
surrendered in first blush beauty,
a breath of every sunrise’s promise,
awakening all that my heart desires
Good morning Soupers
I posted this earlier in the week but took it down. Here goes round 2. : )
What is love?
The North Star guiding
a lost seafarer home
or the Siren’s song luring
him to the rocky shores?
Is it frolicking in the moonlit
nights in a field of flowers
or trudging across
an arid, scorching desert?
Is it a freeway to bliss and joy
or a meandering trail
through a rugged terrain
of grief and woe?
Is it a cup of hemlock
or a chalice of nectar?
Is it a snake pit
or a bridge over the chasm
of hatred and bigotry?
Is it an ever-elusive mirage
or the rock of Gibraltar?
Love is all that and more
and yet it’s nothing,
A mere emotion, a feeling,
At first blush, irrelevant
and yet it’s an impetus, a catalyst--
An euphoria permeating our entire being.
It is here, it is there,
and it is everywhere...
Yet, it is nowhere!
It creates mayhem and chaos
if it turns and walks away.
Love knows no boundaries,
It follows no customs or creed;
It cares not for any
race or language.
Not unlike air and water
or the enlivening sunlight--
Vital in good measures
devastating in excess,
Vexing as a thorn but
as enticing as the fragrance.
Love is but love!
No one has seen it
Yet everyone is touched by it,
Its constant presence is overwhelming
Yet you’ll never find
if you go looking for it,
It traverses distant shores,
Yet it doggedly never
leaves your threshold.
You are born with it
but never can you own it,
Forever it hovers around you
but never can you rein it in.
“Love is a many-splendored thing”.
Yet none can explain its true meaning,
It would call through a bullhorn
and you may not hear it,
It merely whispers in your ears
and turns your life topsy-turvy,
More furious than the flowing lava
It would give you the chills if provoked.
He indeed is a poor soul
bereft of hopes and dreams
who befriendeth not love!
~05/02/16
~Free Verse on Love contest by Laura Loo
~"Love turns the world around"
contest by Nayda Ivette Negron
First blush fountain azimuth of hued rays
wet patio shrub basket in the haze
zealous heartland tower cry as life force
celebrate and savour August rare days
Magenta skylines cluster silken clouds
blue ocean colour eyes that worship shrouds
a fancy surreal canvass so divine
it mesmerises jubilant bright crowds
Summer fun arcades stoke our dream world mind
gasps of red tint bliss a peak season find
earthbound poise dilates refulgent cascade
rocking beach tune fare blurs dark strain purblind
Sapphire plinths that anchor stoic ambit
vision on parade my high rise gambit
traipse amid the dahlia euphoric
seventh heaven rapture’s cloud nine orbit
"Green is nature’s poetry."
"Green – the magical canvas of nature."
"Green gives the calm we need in this world full of chaos."
~ Shilpa Ahuja (all 3 quotes)
"Green is the fresh emblem of well-founded hopes."
~ Mary Webb
Nature's poetry is green,
Blazing in the leaves,
It makes the heart feel serene,
The mind, calm receives;
Green is canvas magical,
Where God paints the trees,
Vast verdancy radical
Cool the eyes and please;
Emblem of well-founded hopes,
Green is Spring's first blush,
The fresh grass that grows on slopes,
Decked with dew looks lush;
When we see an emerald,
The pulse beats faster,
Green does excite and herald
"Hand of the Master".
The Mermaid Songs
Once upon a time, as school was coming to it’s yearly close.
We’d read about mermaids and their songs of Golden prose.
Now, the witch was over visiting and heard everybody’s sighs.
They so, wanted to sing with mermaids, and thru the waters glide.
Dragon was the worst, as he grabbed my mop top to become his hair.
Then he flew out to the lake dock, and began calling those ladies fair.
I began thinking how sad, if my Dragon never did meet this ladylove.
The witch, tears upon her face, then brought that, which he dreamt of.
It seems, while on her yearly travels, our witch once met a lovely mere.
Who was fascinated with the tales of Dragon, and the antics he did stir.
Suddenly, they were there together, a wish granted on a witch’s whim.
Dragon became so very quiet, as a first blush of shyness, ran over him.
The mermaid laughed and giggled as she took the mop from off, his head.
Then she sang a soulful song as she began to touch his wings and said...
Where I come from you’re a legend, a story of days, from, long, gone bye.
To this he just smiled. Yes, our Dragon had turned smitten, and so very shy.
It lasted only a moment; until she asked him, to please, take her to the sky.
Two dreams became one as they traveled the skies, and then the water nigh.
She also, met Dragons penguins, the first she had ever been able to meet.
Them from cold, and she from hot…now in the middle all were complete.
Suddenly the mermaid had the idea, to bring in more of her mere folk.
What? You thought they only sat, singing and giving their hair a stroke?
We invited the neighboring swim teams, accapella groups, and families.
And don’t forget the Glee Clubs, plus the Barber Shop Quartets, you see.
Actually, everybody came to do, even barbecues for Dragon and his guests.
Once a week all summer, the fun continued, but never the same, not once.
It was a summer to be made into legends, for all our days and those beyond.
And each time, we honored the witch, who’d let us learn the Mermaids songs.
Im half awake, and glaring at the sunrise
distant brilliance slowly eating at my dry eyes
squinted to best witness the aureate Apollo
refract off blades soaked through with dew
heaven's first blush, midsummer quiet, and coffee scent
cast clarity, light unveiling the burden
weighing down on every living being
clearest with the coming of the day
burning black holes into my brain's blank slate
sundering my soul 'till shatter state
fast approaches on the infinity of empty space
veiled out ahead of me
Restless with the lethargy of baring witness
I stir the pit, and catch flames leap up
from within carbon prints of gray matter
quelled embers lay suffocating beneath
ash dunes and smoldering phoenix feathers
matted and clumped by filmy deliquescence
spent of all but their will to rise again.
I grasp at the green broken glass
strewn about my feet like seeds
planted by last night's ignorance
and the sin of forced forgetting that
we all someday pay recompense
for our vice's and the gluttonous
way we all practice immoderation.
The world is quiet in lull
humanity lost to an illusion
breathing soft
and sleeping soundly
altogether
We exist
to want and rub against
the way the world turns on
a crooked axis, each moment less lucid
than those sunspots and dewdrops
coursing through dirt-clay veins and
branding the cracked dirt with morning
I cant shake loose the afterimage
imprinted on my blunted senses
experiencing everything I reach
is less than whole
understanding the universe
exists as fragments blackened in spite
of time's one plight forever pulling it apart
The sunset split the sky,
the fire danced and spit,
and the condensation clotted.
I seized eternity that morning
amidst the doldrums of sleeping masses
its truth intimate and calming.
I sense slumber cease and the suburbs rustle
the dreamers stumble about in waking
to shower away their sweat and dreamt delusion
start their cars, and drive away in sync
I listen closely to their heavy sighs
the shift of sagging shoulder plates,
bent under with Atlas tugging at the reins
kind's struggle never ceases to
echo off of terra firma, quaking
with each clanking of the chains
that bind our beating hearts to
alarm clocks, freeways, work weeks
and the torment of monotony
this epistle per mine choice of heir apparent presidential throne
composed from one liberal minded non-conformist rolling stone
prompted awareness that one voice can affect which contestant will win
and occupy the white house after the votes get tallied from political spin
aware thy missive from an anonymous fellow and a self anointed scribe
will be carefully screened no matter opinion already cast with nada bribe
personal opinion of this sole american male of two score and nine years
that barack obama possesses that je ne sais quois diplomatic state craft
despite disparaging broadside starring paris hilton plus britney spears
the land of lincoln candidate exemplifies (to myself) a charismatic charm
in tandem with a relaxed persona and gait akin per a commoner on a farm
that nonchalant easy going affinity speaks nonverbal volumes to this chap
cringes when espying or hearing from opposing challenger whose lips flap
meaning john mccain whose hidden motives and agenda include his trap
to plant seeds of doubt per un-decided electorate causing lead to get a zap
unknown how trials and tribulations rival democratic senator from Illinois
will weather local nor global challenges and said solution he might employ
i opt for said captain to steer ship of state and exclaim to drop anchor ahoy
if via cosmic divine intercession the galloping newcomer in this horse race
ushering biracial as nominal winner televisions would show a beaming face
the political ramifications analogous to betting square outcome on this ace
i gently beg, decry, fulminate counter attack advertisements fast and quick
against those subliminal sly messages that at first blush appear airily slick
and please reach deep in that magic bag resorting to retaliatory artful trick
lest burning from the madding crowd extinguished like jack’s candle wick!
In that hours of light when the ocean
adorned us with the kiss of the waves,
affection for its beauty
reformed to a worshiping deity.
Oh my sailor,you've anchored my heart
making me a perfect fit queen of your paradise.
My mind heeded a love song playing on a harp
dreaming of the day walking down the aisle
with bouquets of orchids,pulling down the veil.
Oh my sailor,it's more than a year
that ocean waves hitting your ship
cradle you to sleep
a sleep for an hour sketching blood lines
in your eyes makes me sigh.
Oh my sailor,sail back home
break your groove,rest sleepy head on bosom
get tuned into the lullaby from my heart
walk-in to the land full of love
far away from the seagull squawk
where the cuckoos sings at the sky's first blush
no more frozen sausage you see
nor the ship that roars
black headed gull emptied your tin of nuts
which we bought from a valley hut.
Oh my sailor,sail back home
you're brave as knight and strong as storm
but you are the one my sight do seek
no matter you glide through the ocean
or let the sea breeze to whoosh
sail back away from the wrath of kyaar
and wrap me safe within your arms
Oh my sailor,sail back home.
Written By
Rekha Antony
To the Sailor Ajesh Joshi
Volition, orientation familiarization aahing
and oohing within restrictive paradigm molding
inviolable honorable gentility -
flagrantly, desirously, clearly boyz abandoning
willfully skirting, panting (heavily)
forfeiting abominably, (no Joe King) abiding
chomping at bit, damning delineated, or obscure
parameters, between one acceding
Earthlinked selfish living
psychosexual pining human bing,
and another ardently avowedly ambitious
altruistic agent provocateur (lol)
at first blush hinting Moulin Rouge adulation
under dim (witted) lighting accenting
individual randy salient
traits savoring tête-à-tête
tasty hors d'oeuvres accentuating
nuances highlighting flirtatious countenance
initially unconditionally stubbornly accepting
dire hormonal straits
as prickly fledgling acquaintanceship
quivers, negotiates, kickstarts abolishing
inchoate biochemical protracted coupling
conveniently interpreting accessing
breeching, catapulting Dickensian estuary,
non verbal communication nsync abridging
painstakingly erecting complex edifice
suavely, urbanely, wittily accessorising
tried and truevalue tricks acclaiming
debonair heroic manliness princely
qualities dutifully dominate directing
demure damsel in distress absconding
convincing, foreplaying, jimmying,
rollicking readily acclimatizing
challenges thrust up gracefully parlaying
most savvy serious similarly sophisticated
totally tubular testosterone tactics
versatile repartee accomplishing
dynamics cultivating atavistic romantic ballet
on duh poe whit tick abutting
metaphorical foot accoutering
trappings adorned since mythological
Adam and Eve accrediting
latter, sans virile unavoidable temptation
savoir faire verboten fruit, accelerating
action whereby unsuspecting, slithering,
lurking serpent teen accounting
rattle unheard by apse cent church fathers
subsequently excoriating, condemning, accusing,
nonetheless indomitable transcendence achieving
pinnacle of prostrate poignancy
inexpressible ecstasy acquiescing
nonpareil acquisition adulation activating
ascendence assaying administering
amorousness activating. aching.
Commencement of day
Aurora hidden away
Onset first blush...clouds