Best Flowery Words Poems
For flowery words I have no gift
deep thoughts I'm rarely thinking
And when it comes to penmanship
my dear I fear I'm stinking
But none the less amid this mess
I'll sum up for your pleasure
Donations to our mutual fund
you've granted in full measure
In 'sixty-two who knew that you
would be my life-long buddy
We'd both tried once, struck out at love
our crystal ball was muddy
We'll make it work this time we said
but no one thought we meant it
The means it seems for life-long dreams
had not yet been invented
Of course I knew that you were who
I prayed would share my dreaming
Of mountain cabins babbling brooks
blue lakes with rainbows teeming
But you were from a Texas town
and I a guy from Brooklyn
So fat chance you and I would fly
where angels yearn to look in
Now reassessing all those years
of mutual indenture
The motorcycles horses boats
and trips of wild adventure
I know I owe it all to your
intrepid flexibility
That we hold these fond memories
to warm us through senility
Just another warrenpiece
Not beautiful in the physical sense
is the woman of my merciless dreams.
Flowery words don't do her justice, hence
my futile attempts at expressing love;
she be like a star that glistens and gleams,
mocking a lonely man from high above.
But a welcome wave to my callous heart -
indeed, a much needed crash upon so
still and bleak a shore, long deprived of art.
She needs not ruby red lip, nor pink blush;
to attract mine eyes you must simply show.
It's your smile, dear, that turns my shell to mush:
not beautiful in the physical sense,
but a welcome wave to my callous heart.
NOTE: I don't write sonnets very often, but this particular one is a lesser known format, called a Cornish Sonnet. It has 14 lines following this rhyme scheme: AbacbcDedfefAD. What makes this sonnet rhyme scheme more distinct is that the 1st and and 7th lines are actually repeated in the last two lines, becoming the final couplet.
Lavish me not with any parting gifts
when I die
Give me no long goodbye speeches
with flowery words
I demand an eulogy of silence
Extol not my memory,
for I am just a mere mortal with feet of clay
now turning to dust
Bury me with no honors,
raise not the banner of celebration
To joyously lift up my life
on the day I'm to be lowered into the ground
is such cruel irony
Laugh and give gleeful shouts if you must,
if this brings comfort to your soul
Easing your fears,
as the procession of my casket marches
to the hymnal of the worms
Death is the last reproach,
the breath of life stamped out
Sin in the end wins ...
of this, there can be no doubt
Look away from the mourning tears and baleful cries,
and mark the final abdication of life
with the covering of the eyes
~
What can you do with a romantic poet,
flowery words he does drape
Lost in a garden of endless love poems,
seems that there is no escape
Luring you in with his lines of affection,
painting the sky tangerine
Strolling along down a path of desires,
lost in an autumn moonbeam
Writing a sunset of pure inspiration,
pouring his heart in a phrase
Singing a song of a butterfly dancing,
amidst the warmest of days
Yes, what can you do with a romantic poet,
I guess you could just look inside
Open your heart for you know that you want to,
no matter how much you hide
Or you could scroll down past every poem,
that flows from his amorous pen
And look for another that’s more to your liking,
but beware…he is writing again
~
I HAVE THE INCLINATION
If I have the time, I have the inclination
To commit to paper what I feel for you.
It’s something I have always meant to do,
But, as you often say, I lack imagination.
If I could write a sonnet the William Shakespeare way,
Listing all your many virtues, verse by verse,
Would you take me seriously or think me quite perverse?
Would you laugh if I compared you to a summer’s day?
If I used a metaphor to compliment your figure
And flowery words to illustrate your features,
Or said you were more beautiful than any of God’s creatures,
Would you swoon or quietly turn away and s?
If I said your eyes outshone the stars above you,
Would you think that corny, coming from my pen?
Yes, I’d better stop now and think it through again.
And simply find the time to say, “I love you”.
31st December 2019
If You Have The Time For An Enclosed Poem contest
Sponsor - Tania Kitchin
Many poets write glorious imagery using flowery words
only three people know
two of them dead
one being Coleridge
the other Shakespeare
I hate them for knowing these words,
despise their guts out that they know how to implement them correctly.
I comment, knowing my comments are crude, banal, a joke at my expense.
These poets are too gracious to call me out.
They pretend that my words are suitable.
Luckily this sooths my pain
and helps me to not feel the need
to look up all of their words which I do not know.
That steamy summer day
At age fourteen and three months
I stood awaiting the kiss
Of the tall, dark, handsome hunk
My stomach was in knots
As terror snaked up my throat
Would he think it was okay?
Would he, with flowery words, emote?
His luscious lips descended
As I closed unbelieving eyes
A thrill rushed through my body
I was weak from feet to thighs
Then, suddenly, his tongue
Darted out and squished around
In a sloppy and slathering mess
My feet never left the ground
When the “kiss” was over
I couldn’t look at him the same
He was a dog; no longer a boy
And, now, I don’t recall his name
Inspired by John Heck's contest, "Egads, My First Kiss?"
I hear the call of friends but I am slow to harken,
What shall I say what would you want to hear?
I will not write of Erotic images, I will not spew phony
flowery words. I will only write the truth, what is in
my soul. I have written of the Love that we all should
have for one another, I have written to bring a smile, I
have written of loss, pain and struggle. Do you think me
too sagely, an oracle, a seer, a paradox, a riddle?
I am an enigma, a vision you cannot see, a word you do not
understand, a sad song too hard to sing, a thorn that pricks
at you, a dream that is never understood. This life is about
caring, giving, learning, sharing. I am the one that will
not be loved, a nuance, a shadow, a whisper, a tear shed,
one forgotten, a bitter taste. What shall I say, can I ease the
pain, take away the troubles, brighten lives? Nay I cannot, If I
could this world would be a haven of love, bliss, harmony, a
paradise, a comfort, a healing, a revelation. What shall I say?
My time here grows short and my heart is sad and broken, I
have no inspiration to write anymore. The words that come out
are too hard to write, too hard to read, a vexation of spirit, a sound
that is disturbing. This may be the last verse that I ever write my
soul is in despair, I have lost the desire to ponder on the things
of this world. The thing that you should know is that I love everyone
of you. What else can I say?
oh love,love me do
with sweet poems,old and new
or odes that ring true
my darling,don't fret,
dearest heart my number one;
see how I've begun
with end rhyme we'll have fun,or
maybe sonnet or tercet
on no,not flowery words
too obscure and seldom heard,
such poetry's no better
than prose by letter
Brian Strand
THE ACRYLIC BLUES
Warm winter days……… and sultry summer afternoons
With rainbows so bright……. they could even shine at midnight
Those were the merry days…… those were the very merry days
When you spun silly little stories under the sun
But I was only twenty and you were only twenty-one
I was only twenty the day our eyes first met
I was in a Toyota, and you in your violet corvette
We raced off the line, and how your mag-wheels spun
We met when I was twenty, but things changed when you became twenty-one
Sundays spent bowling when the lanes led lovers to lover's lane
Mondays meant wishing for Sunday’s strikes and colorful bowling shoes
When there were no acrylic blues to match the sky that we sat under
Days when our love chased away the thunder….
Evenings woven only for souls like me and you
But I was still twenty when you turned twenty-two
I was only twenty and came upon a dream
You led me to lakes and strolled me to a stream
I remember your kisses were moist as morning dew
We met when I was twenty but things changed when you turned twenty-two
Boat rides, carousels and clowning ‘round in the snow
A couple happy to have nowhere to go….Candlelit dinners with fine china and wine
Glad only to be each others “mine”
Ohhhhhhhh you caught me and taught me about pleasantries and such
And I turned liquid when you’d touch your fingertips to my heart
I would speak to you with flowery words
Of memories from my childhood
When being good meant an ice cream cone
And never being left alone
Then finally set forever free
And oh the way you made love to me
when you finally turned twenty-three
And then I turned twenty-four
Which opened the door and you were no more
A portal for my ex-lover to portend………. who promised me forever
but then I married a man with his shirt neatly tucked in
And Lord knows that night was when I lucked out
And made him mine as mine can be
So I may one day forget twenty-three
But I will remember forever twenty-four---when Mr. Right walked through my door…….
© 2012 copyright PHREEPOETREE…...~free cee!~
Worst Poem Ever
This is the worst poem, I’ve ever written,
A right stinker that’s for sure.
There is no concept or meaning
and the content is very, very poor.
I will discard this one to the waste,
Where all the rubbish belongs.
This verse doesn’t even rhyme,
To the bin, with my other trashy things.
Flowery words devoid of value,
Impart flair for ambiguous continuity.
and what on Earth does this mean,
Deception with audacious mendacity.
Let me keep it plain and simple,
This poem will have to go.
With my fresh page and sharpened pencil,
A new one, called Fun in the Snow.
The letter I regret to read ever
Is that I cannot stop reading never.
The flowery words that draw me to tears
Meant to re-enact the pain of love lost.
Was it really a case of love lost?
Was the love ever there in the first place?
Did we really love each other genuinely?
Did we love ourselves more than each other?
Did I hate myself so much, so that:-
I didn't wanna watch over my heart?
Did I listen then to your words?
Was I to believe you that much?
Do I really need to read this letter,
So frequently and as keen as I do?
Your letter till now I read over.
This letter by no other lover read never.
Message of how much you loved me conveyed
Silently just before you stealthily sneaked away
Words that were meant to fill the vacuum
The empty space of your long absence.
A silence so loud till now it echoes in my heart.
Sounding footsteps of moronic silhouettes retreating
Into the horizon to go fill the cavity in my heart.
But in silence this letter when you read
Does it really fill the vacuum?
Does it further dig it deeper?
Does it wipe the tears from your eyes?
Does it bring more tears to your eyes?
Do those words really heal the pain?
Do they scrub the healing wounds?
Do I even know what I'm writing?
Or comprehend what I'm reading?
I'm not sure I really do.
I'm more confused than I do.
I don't know what I know
And know I really don't know it.
I don't know whether I felt sad
Or too glad after reading your words.
With your final breath on a lonely island.
I loved the sweet way
In which you wrote them.
Because your very words of love
Brought tears to my eyes
Instead of laughter to my heart.
It's why I will keep coming back
These very words to read.
Till the day. they give me joy.
In velvet gown she walked along the shores of fire
Celtic beauty, scent and prowess she possess;
A face spirits do admire
And heartless souls do caress.
In her lips no flowery words exist,
In her heart only loneliness and revenge,
Her breath, a deadly mist
A beauty, no goodness even a tinge.
Deception to her is named
For beneath the beauty is a savage beast,
Beast is beauty, never tamed
Beast is death; beauty death kissed.
Flowery words portray an inflated ego, only impress the intimidated.
Meadowsweet & wiilow herb
and forget-me-nots
Blue,white,green & yellow
Wild flowers in abundance
Pastel shade my garden plot