Best Flowerless Poems
A lovely rose grew to the garden's delight,
a poem of sunrise surrounded by night.
One day her friend Ivy asked "Why do you mourn?"
Rose answered, "I've lost my beloved dear thorn.
"We've been closer than close since I was a young bud,
now I fear he has fallen down into the mud.
He protected this vine, but I trust our Creator
we shall meet again, be it sooner or later."
Another thorn fell then, and nearly another.
Poor Rose mourned and prayed as would any sad mother.
"I must carry on", she said, "find ways to cope,
composing new poems to give others hope".
With courage and kindness she faced each new day,
always loving and knowing the right words to say.
She lost a few petals when summer storms blew,
but her friends in the garden all felt she pulled through.
One day Ivy looked and with sadness profound
saw the flowerless vine and her friend on the ground.
But the vine's saddest loss was the soil's richest gain,
for Rose and her thorns were united again.
For Connie Marcum-Wong. We miss you dear rose, but
rejoice that you are finally reunited with your loved ones.
“Only from the heart can you touch the sky.” Mawlana Jalal-al-Din Rumi
I am a garden of Monet
thriving amidst
watercolor wilderness,
mourning the death of greens.
In pursuit of peace, where lilies
are tangled in tranquility,
I let my eyes slumber,
allowing my thoughts to wander
through an iridescent landscape
of unnamed orchards,
outlined with moon diamonds~
flickering luminous beams
upon my melancholic mind,
that remains a nomadic sojourner,
traveling through shifting time,
like kaleidoscopic roses,
splattered across the milky-way.
Happiness is more than
just an illusory noun
engraved from electric pens,
by passionate poets in quest of
a chivalrous expression,
intoxicated by ethereal imagism,
woven when life unfolds
a mundane cycle
flowing with razor-sharp regrets,
where we drown, paralyzed and lost
within somber phrases of serenity.
Yet, I refuse to pirouette like
a lamented leaf fleeting
above flowerless fields.
I am an amateur artist, painting
my sadness in captivating genres,
my brush is like an
odyssey of rainbow petals,
steered by a sleepless muse,
selflessly guiding my blushing heart
to sculpt sorrow with periwinkle dreams.
There I find blissfulness within
the butterfly breeze
of sakura sunsets,
falling upon my breathless ink,
longing to be traced
in musical tenderness,
illuminating this spiritual connection,
set aflame by embers
of fervent devotion,
dancing across the smooth sky of
sanguine seas,
where tides of infatuation
rinse away ripples of remorse.
For in this world of woes
I found a lyrical line
and turned it into an
illustration of sensuous sonnets,
emanating love and light
when metaphors have no meaning.
O sage silence,
in your unsung melodies,I found
a haven blooming with honeysuckles.
The sun and moon synchronized
into an amorous ambience.
Now I rest my angst
on pillows of endearment,
embroidered with sweet solace.
You will be the last summer
seeping along cinnamon
strings of my silhouette;
the aurora warmth to
my frosted dusk, forevermore.
“Here lieth baby Rachel
Born 10th Sept 1894 Died 30th Oct 1896”
Marble stone that lays above the head,
white chippings that blanket the body,
flowerless vase that sits naked
crying out for a fragrant moment
if only to perfume its stagnancy.
I see an odorous pool being replenished,
rain drops aiding hope and life,
a renewal to the neoclassical container
that one day must have been complemented
with loving hands of grief.
I find no track to this lonely corner,
forgotten in this living place of death!
No visitor to gaze upon its epitaph
no one to care “Whom here lieth”
Beneath this broken monument.
“Velvet skin that the cruel age turns to husks,
naked bones left to mature the grass above,
weeping willow guardian of shade and light,
Who! Knows what nourishment
its searching tentacles beget.”
“Corpus soul aimlessly floating in limbo,
looking at me here this very minute?
Feeling my sensitivity as I stand here, alone,
Is there no escape for anyone?
‘Unless life is indeed the enemy’”
Warped in thought I stare at her monument,
built by caring minds and dexterous hands,
tradesmen whom with spade and chisel
penetrated sculptured within nature
just to honour a child’s brief life on earth.
I walk away along the newly beaten track,
grass and nettle bow before my impending stride,
my mind is wrenched with reverence,
I climb aboard my mechanized shovel
“I wonder why! Why should it bother me so!”
© Harry J Horsman 1992
I have nothing tangible to do,
that`s why I`m writing this,
which makes me jobless.
Even though I like to speak on
behalf of many indigents and unknowns,
making me the voice of the voiceless.
I believe in struggle for survival,
working day and night to better the lots of others,
making me selfless and restless.
I don`t care whether my ways or
words are painful or not,
which make me heartless.
In the face of adversity,
I cannot remain motionless,
this makes me fearless.
A wingless insect that I am,
feeding on the stems and roots of flowers,
I am ruthless.
I don`t like ice-creams that are creamless or
soup that is spiceless;
the two to me are tasteless,
Am I making any sense?
Don`t tell me that I`m senseless.
Sometimes my pen writes on its own without me,
pouring out its venom on paper,
Oh!the ink is fading...fading out slowly,
Gush! my pen is inkless,making me speechless.
Our love for each other is ceaseless;
as I sit on this armless chair on a sleepless
night gazing at the blue flowerless vase;
I become thoughtless.
Nonetheless,I`m still faithless,for I have no
single faith in our political system or leaders.
The bond between I and my pen is endless.
We are both sinless, as we escape the
bottomless pit and timeless ignorance.
THE GRASS WIDOW
All this cowed earth in a blue jar, flowerless
Stands on the pine table. Clay and wood
Have broken spirit’s voice, to endow
With uncalled for happiness your fleeting presence.
Truth is blunt in your eyes: you do not love me
Or what I seem to claim in you, parenthood and nation,
Lest I decipher too readily the code of your person
And trade it for the platitude of wealth
Joining you has become. You would rather
Speak of the turquoise found in a still cave
Than wear the married felicities of our age
Wafer thin as an advertisement page
Adorning the scattered newspaper. My hands
Touch your face. Nobody loves you like me.
Gardens cannot thrive in shade
an ill-fated penurious terrain
like love that's made, but made in vain
gardens cannot thrive in shade
As light hides behind the trees
shadows conceal the reverie
this ground, immortal beauty made
yet gardens cannot thrive in shade
Lilly of the Valley, forget me not's
retain some portion of blame
her shades of blue and soft white hue
a fertile mirage for a spectral fool
Gardens cannot thrive in shade
for speck of sun that has no place
everything seems to wither in grey
awakening desires endless strain
Tis not this garden I sought to find
in an age I thought I'd left behind
but now as I gaze upon the grey
Its sure my garden wont thrive in shade
A Forrest floor, that's what you are
a bed of amber promise made
A flowerless fern lovely yet sparse
which seems best loved from afar
How do I tell you
and where do I start?
all of my flowers are shriveling
gradually in the garden of my heart
He tried hard not to break away
But could not keep them together
After all, he would never again stay
So he left in search of life better
Like scattered leaves after a storm
Was the root of family foundation
Aching high hearts were born
To play their games of destruction
Their home became colorless rainbow
Dad said he wouldn't return again
So with meager hope for tomorrow
They sat on a beach without sand
Do innocent offsprings deserve it
Trust on parents like flowerless spring
Why did their happiness now quit
Their favorite song they do not sing
Alone, the boy and the girl must cope
Plant new seeds of peacefull living
Even in hard times they hope
For any other joyful yearning
I pray that others do not taste
What the children went through
With no support worse they faced
Struggling to come up with food
They deserted school and worked
She as cleaner, he as errand boy
Helped sick mother who lost her word
And on Christmas they got no toy
Victims of such sudden violence
Saddened with snatched love and care
At such tender age they lost guidance
And grew for life only total scare
You are not ……….. in childhood days
……….. A girl to play doll,
You are ……………… of a moon night
…….. A traveler of a hard way.
You are not ……………. of far horizon
…………… A flying bird,
You are ……………………… for living
…………. The dreamy eyes.
I am not ……………… of so long past
………. Any partly picture,
I am ………………………. of this time
…………. A failure poet.
You are not …………… of cloudy sky
... Restless rain falling continuously,
You are ………………… built by God
…. An innocent beautiful creation.
You are not …………... of silent night
……... The cry of a hungry child,
You are ……………….. of shiny days
… The crystal emerald of romance.
I am not ………………….. devastator
……... Erosion of angry river,
I am ……….. of the twentieth century
……… Tie of hands of time.
You are not ………… of lost memory
………. Any sleeping agony,
You are … surrounded by mountains
…. A brisk water fall of the nature.
You are not ……………. a flowerless
…………… Deep forest,
You are ……. bath in the moonshine
…….. Beauty of the starry night.
I am not ……….. at the dreamy door
…….. Any imaginary Cuckoo,
I am ………………….. of this society
…….. A revolutionary youth.
You have …… of the sea of romance
… The tender innumerable softness,
I have ……………. of the pretty heart
………. An epic poem.
in love
he held hands out
wore the flowerless crown
and hung on the branches of faith
ignored
Spread high and wide against the noonday sun
The jacaranda tree displays its mauve foliage
All nature knows that August has finally come
Students on their way back again to college
On the ground beneath the generous tree
The old woman selling the bags of maize
Out of school children are running free
A flock of goats on the long acre graze
European man and woman on the road
How are you shouts the native child
Old man on bicycle with heavy load
Dusty clothes all worn and soiled
Coloured plumaged birds flit here and there
Darting in and out through perfumed leaves
The happy chirping is their daily prayer
The tranquil air their message receives
Windy Autumn is now about to fade away
And leave behind a flowerless silent tree
We had some pleasure if only for a day
And know that beauty can make us free
Sometimes leafless tree
looks attractive and scenic
when birds sit on it
The flowerless plant
enthrals everyone when
butterfly flies round
Waterless river
is even more beautiful
when cute kids play there
Tasteless food items
sound utterly delicious
when mother feeds us
Impoverished life
bestows happiness on us
when we boast small things
a vase is a pocket for cut flowers
flowerless, it's just a void
forgotten in shadow
a whiff of lilac
reminding me of my youth
a gift from nature
grandma's cherished vase holding
violet blooms blissfully
gracious blooms of hope
can fill a void
upon strong faith
For Constance La France's contest, 'Three Verses'
The night wind was icily cold.
No herons or olive tree warblers flew,
Only hooded black ravens,
preying on the souls of lost men.
More red-pinkish flowers
dropped from the tree,
leaving the branches bare
until in a few days
the green leaves will sprout,
and the tree will remain flowerless,
an ugly sight, shunned by all.
Suddenly the wind dropped.
He felt despair, sullen and dejected.
Soon no one heard of him anymore.
Some say he hanged himself
upon the very tree that sheds its flora,
Others believed he fell on a stump
that pierced his bowels as he lived
a recluse amongst an unknown tribe.
Others made him their hero
just for the sake of being different.
But he was seen no more.
The icy night wind blew,
the Judas tree shed its odorless flowers,
as true lovers escaped to scented bowers.
Unassuming beauty of emerald evergreen.
Verdure cool patches of sombre sunscreen.
Flowerless soft carpets of impasto strokes.
The gorgeous mossy sponge .. vibrance evokes.
The gregarious green hosts.. fungi, frog, insect
The bedecked forest floors.. symbiosis perfect.
Soft velvet cuddles close....the roots and trees hard.
Light and shade brighten up....the dank courtyard.
The rolling stones all frown..they grimace.. in grief.
Can't we gather the Moss?..the beauty ..leaf by leaf !!
Dated 11th November 2018
Submitted to the Overlooked Beauty Poetry Contest.
Sponsor Jesse Rowe.
will keikis arrive
from the nodes of your flowerless
fingers? I think not.
will bringing orchids
and cutting free their flowers work?
Perhaps if it’s our wedding night.
7/12/2021
Contest: Ni Katuata
Sponsor: William Kekaula