Best Flourished Poems
To my daughter who never listens.
Life is not as simple as a cliché.
It's not lullabies and butterflies.
Not all sounds are soothing,
not all flowers are faithful.
It's not as relaxing as a reverie,
rarely as poetic as a poem,
so you can't hide everything behind metaphors.
You have to express your true verses,
you have to serenade in your own melody -
but never forget the chorus to our song.
Life is full of storytellers who will lead you astray,
so never believe everything you hear or see -
create your own biography, make your own history.
Our existence is fragile like petals,
yet your birth created an oasis in my heart.
I remember when they said you would not blossom,
yet you flourished in essences of evergreen elegance.
I was the first to cradle you in my arms,
as I promised to protect you endlessly.
Hoping that you would soar forever,
spread your wings higher and higher.
We never truly realise the sacrifices of our parents.
I wonder if you will ever know,
how sometimes all I had left was my smile -
never would I reveal my frailties.
It was not a simple case of masculinity,
because even the most ferocious lion cries.
I hope you never face a struggle,
as difficult as the trials forsaken upon me
and
I'm sorry if at times you saw no emotions,
apologies for the tears I never let you see,
nor the fears I never allowed you to feel,
but it was the way I was brought up to be,
it's how reality curated my personality.
If the suppression of my feelings made you distant -
remember a father will always be a shepherd for his flock.
Wars from the past have infiltrated mankind,
yet there will be many battles to come -
just don't fall asleep among heartless sleeping souls.
I shiver upon the thought of our closing goodbye,
when my shield can no longer protect you,
as every knight has to eventually lay down his sword.
The world can be a cruel and wild place,
and I remind you there is always a rainy day,
so choose wisely the paths to ponder upon -
learn how to build your own abode.
You'll always be a baby in my eyes.
I'll always be so proud.
Even in silence... I will forever love you.
Dad.
To love
Is to remember
The touch of your hand
Your voice
When you called me cariad
My mouth remembers your kiss
The feel of your lips
Sensual touch of your tongue on mine
The closeness this brings
To love
Is to want to be with
Man woman or child
To love them
to want them near
To take in their being
When you love
It tugs at your heart
Making your chest swell
With unknown pleasure
Spreading to a smile
your eyes lighting up
face aglow
The feeling of love
Keeps you young at heart
Helps you want to face another day
Yet no more
That love has lost its way
Floundering in the brink of destruction
Searching, for the exit of depression.
Needs to see the light once more
Yet all there is, is the heat of hells fire
The internal hell, that goes around and around the brain
Looking for answers, for the reason.
Memories try to flood the senses
Memories of the hope that once flourished
Now is smouldering in the no mans land of waste
Is there love ever after?
This is the third writing with letter L. As suggested by Jan..
Where Love Grew
Beneath the maple tree
is where our love first started to grow
Green buds of unblossomed love,
basking in the golden dappled light
of spring’s awakening
A sweet kiss given,
sweet as maple ...
given beneath the swaying branches
Dancing to the wind music of spring,
as you lullabied me with sweet whisperings
Under the unshaded maple tree
is where our love first began to seed,
and take root into the heart of me
Beneath the maple tree
is where your love started to grow inside of me
Your love lifted me above the branches so high
It took me beyond the expansion
of the bright blue sky
Lasting longer than time
marked in tree rings to be seen
For in the seed of growth came strength of bond
that flourished on soft emerald grass,
under the shaded maple tree
Through rain and sun,
all storms to pass
Our sweet whisperings of love do last
Within my heart, within my soul,
I am as tall as the maple tree with you
We are still dancing to the wind music
each spring anew
Beneath the maple tree
where our love grew
Heidi Sands collaboration with Freddie Robinson Jr.
3/10/17
"In life, grief outweighs joy and laughter is an interlude between two sighs."
~By Poet~
Isn’t it sheer destiny that you and I were born,
In the endless flow of time as humans.
But we are here only for a short interval,
When death calls, we leave the stage ending the show.
As peace is an interlude between two wars
Life is an interlude between birth and death
The moon that fades after lighting the night,
The sun that sets after warming the day,
The flowers that wither after feasting the eye,
Obliquely announce that life is an interlude.
Love once flourished may fade and die.
Trees towering high may fall and rot.
Rivers that swell can dry up once.
The same is true of our life on earth.
At times we soar on wings of joy.
At times we drown and are deep in grief.
Does it not remind us of a vital truth,
That life on Earth can never be the same.
We are travelers on this wild terrain,
Heading timorously towards an unknown goal,
Ever tossed by the vicissitudes of life,
Fated to partake evenly of smiles and tears.
Know that all the paths we tread along,
Finally converge on a single spot.
At the tomb, we just pause awhile,
To resume our journey to lands beyond.
All that counts is how well we lived,
And not how long we have been here.
So, mend your life as your conscience directs.
Bridge the gap between words and deeds.
We loved the land
We tilled the earth, under sun we toiled
We pledged our souls, to nature’s whim
The King of France none to pleased
We took the sacraments
We held our faith, mournful to fates embrace
The British demanded a new oath we take
And scalped we were, both sides did partake
Our villages burned, our fields afire
Our woman and children, in hunger perished
We feared Monckton, a hunter of death
And from him, to ships hold, deported at best
We preyed to Canada, to lend us a hand
Evangeline an angel of our land
The darkened forests, to where we fled
Became bloody in battles, and turned to red
For Redcoats wandered in search of scalps
As Father Le Loutre preached unheavenly deeds
He was bloodthirsty and in skirmishes his evil flourished
His Mikmaq warriors helped rivers flow to blood
We lived along the rivers edge
We fought them all, to no one did we pledge
As serfs we served, to whom did rule
In the end, the forest sang our quiet eulogy
The vessels sailed from Halifax
With their human cargo of Partisans
Off to the West Indies, and a new land
Disease triumphed where Lord Laurence failed
And so the voyage, onward went
The traditions of Grand Pre, to Louisiana was lent
And there they settled, peace at last
As angels of their battles, in sacrifice did rest
Three men each grew a precious rose
They all had different thoughts
Of how to raise and nurture them
Of the outcomes that they sought.
The first man shirked all effort
Just plunged a hole within the soil
His rose grew, waned then wilted
It suffered from his lack of toil.
The second man possessed great intent
By preparing fertile ground
Purchasing almost everything
Gave his rose all that could be found.
This rose developed entirely spoilt
It flourished better than a weed
Except it too deformed and shrivelled
When he could no longer feed its needs.
Our third man was a pauper
However his heart was like a king
All he had was time and love
But he knew his rose would sing.
He too prepared quite fertile earth
But he never spent a cent
He freed the dirt for solid roots
He knew this rose was heaven sent.
He spent what he could just afford
Although mostly invested time
Talked and fussed and loved his rose
No surprise it grew up really fine
This man finally met his grave
Wilted then died when he grew old
His rose still grows and prospers
It flowers so bright and so bold.
Precious gifts require attention
Only exceptions grow up wild
Treasures need time and care
Imagine each rose could be a child.
Angels flapped their wings
Stardust fell from blessed sky
Poetry flourished!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
21 OCTOBER 2014
Oh my enchantress dahlia, an inspiration to my muse.
I remember, meticulously planting your bulbs,
so you would bloom in an abundance of colours.
I watched your emerald stalk blossom slowly,
until your sepal gave birth to elegant petals.
Dawn's fresh sun rays glowed to embellish
your myriad tones, glittering with dewdrops.
You flourished in shades of burgundy and ivory,
scarlet with hues of golden saffron and
in tones of amaranth and amethyst.
Your velvet skin so soft and subtle,
seduced bees and butterflies to savour your nectar.
From all the flowers that blessed my oasis,
you were my queen, so gracefully grandeur,
flourishing around my verdant lawn.
How I missed you when Autumn arrived.
his baby daughter
tossed aside like a rag doll
dad wanted a son
my mother told him
that I was ‘the next best thing’
at least she loved me!
always second best
but useful with garden chores
I can milk a goat!
unwanted... unloved
no father daughter closeness
I do not miss him
since he passed away
I have flourished with my words
but I’ll never grieve
(A Paul Callus & Carolyn Devonshire collaboration)
Standing not far from the cliff’s edge
the aging tree, solitary,
with gnarly roots clings to the rocks -
she shows resolve, tenacity.
My younger days were easier;
as a tiny sprout, I flourished,
surrounded by wildflower beds
that by soft spring rains were nourished.
For many years on rugged land
she had all weathers to endure
and there were times when under stress
doubts crossed her mind, felt insecure.
For centuries nature’s fury
cast afflictions, floods, tornadoes.
Many arms lost to lightning strikes,
but I still cling to bravado.
Exposed to storms or blazing sun,
whipped by the wind mercilessly,
sought reassurance from her faith -
she strived to keep her dignity.
Resiliently, I learned to stand
in the face of danger and doom.
Since I am one of God’s creatures,
the promise of faith may still bloom.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
you reach with clinging desires
and drunken temptations
brightly flourished promises
wrapped 'round petite
virgin white pleasures
yet trust hesitates around
too much beauty
hidden midst other scents
emotional flytraps while
Venus blushes
knowing if she waits
her hugs will be too painful
to escape
She is not defined by poetry alone
born a dreamer in a realist family of drones
they made her adept, at many things ;
Patchwork designs of beauty she did make
with quilted fingers of youth and vigorous eye
Lattice thoughts that mounted to the sky
were crushed by patriarchal smudges
still, she balanced the beam and walked
on a tightrope everyday singing out her song
of sweet belong ;
Dipping her tears in the quiet lake of solitude.
she heard the soul quake "Bring it home girl "
and so she did. Picking up her favorite pen
she hid in her room and practiced her
signature until it flourished without grit.
No she is not defined by poetry alone
but, she sure knows how to bring it home.
Dec. 23, 2018
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Contest: you are not defined by
~
Beyond the chipped paint and tarnished handle
of this old screen door once waited a garden,
a winding path of stone and dirt
I had walked many times in my life
that led to a place of wondrous beauty,
poetic blooms and intoxicating fragrances
Merely stepping beneath the Jasmine covered arbor
lifted spirits and illumined hope that all was right,
and the butterflies, oh the butterflies, winged effervescence in
sapphire, indigo, tangerine and lemon butter yellows
floated from flower to flower creating
the most wonderful dancing rainbow for the eye
I still smile when I hear those old rusted hinges squeak
and I feel that fresh air meet my face
For those memories linger in my mind,
as now I find the path overgrown, the arbor splintered and fallen,
the vibrant garden a mass of weed and vine
strangling the beauty that once flourished
And I understand, life changes…slowly,
each of us deteriorate within time’s grasp, returning
to where we began, covered in lawn and dew
beginning anew or to be forgotten…
an occasional thought that passes
down another path of another life
Now as I stand gazing at what once was,
a tear finds my cheek, meandering over these wrinkles
gathering in the corner of my mouth…salty
yet it is not the garden nor the whimsical path
that collects in my mind…it is the butterflies,
oh how I miss the butterflies…
~
An older piece but I figured since it seemed to be butterfly day around here, I’d post it. : )
"Tender Years"
upon first meeting my heart felt a certain chemistry
though I was far from seeking love I vowed intentionally
needed to work and raise my sons as best as I could
being my boss gave me a chance to show my work was good.
a team of excellence we were and business was successful
my life was starting to take shape though times were very stressful
one night you offered me a lovely dinner to escape
surely I accepted not considering it a date.
years have quickly passed so tenderly we fell in love
you were my strong support, my Angel sent from Heaven above
as much as I tried to resist you said we were meant to be
our wedding day in Paradise and the rest is history.
our love balances all the bad and turns things all to right
when I am cold you cradle me and sing me songs at night
years ago I cut and combed your wavy wild black hair
but now you are my sexy Cupid, bald beyond compare.
as every moment of our golden years are cherished
our family has grown so close in love and flourished
and still we work together fulfilling lifelong dreams
I am the creative one and you pioneer financial themes.
these tender years have taught us both about why we love so
God is the center of our lives helping our faith grow
we thank each other everyday for love so faithfully
and the wonderful way you learned to share my poetry.
*For Gail Angel Doyle's Tender Years.
*Written by: Linda-Marie Sweetheart.
*Dec. 7, 2012.
"A Blessed Year"
in the Year of 2012 our reflection
reminded how truly blessed
our family felt with strong emotion.
a new home with lovely trees
and blossoming bushes flourished
green grass for animals to enjoy
beautiful birds singing melodies
acres of ground for gatherings
and celebrations.
happiness surrounded new parents
my military son and his wife
welcomed new baby boy with
pride and joy and love.
God has given us so many reasons
to cherish each other and Life
for love rules our home always.
through sickness and death
we fought the good fight of faith
and trials made us a strong family
material possessions allow feelings
of importance ... but ...
we learned that love is the
key element to this earthly existence.
so in the Year of 2012
we share this love with everyone
thus extolling God, who loves us all
unconditionally.
*For Carol Sunshine Brown's In the Year 2012 Contest.