Best Genus Poems
Mirabelle orb ascends,
under clementine and pomegranate skies.
Absent,
in delight of daylight.
Eyes set adrift in dawning daydreams.
Calm heart is an oceanic concerto,
flowing along sapphire tones.
Deep breaths walk upon water,
caressed by Poseidon's piano keys.
Pulsating palpitations beat eloquent echoes,
rousing freely along rhythmical ripples.
Searching for symphonic serenity -
composition of waves, amicably,
pave a path towards destiny.
Hope vibrates like Apollos's lyre and lute strings,
as winds whistle lost tunes from Athena's flute.
Melodies of the silent sea summon torpid tides,
as desire merges in harmony with the harbour -
passionately embracing barren shores.
Aroma of dusk's dew cools in night's velvet sheen,
as sinking sun is submerged into the deep blue sea.
Sprinkling of pearls appear - their reflection
shimmering upon watery midnight blue stillness.
In silent clarity of blackness,
flowing footfalls of fate purify -
awakening mind from its reverie.
The Silent One
6 September 2020
Mirabelle - a plum, also known as mirabelle prune or cherry plum, is a cultivar group of plum trees of the genus Prunus. It is believed that the plum was cultivated from a wild fruit grown in Anatolia.
Poseidon, in ancient Greek religion, god of the sea (and of water generally), earthquakes, and horses.
Apollo has been recognized as a god of archery, music and dance, truth and prophecy, healing and diseases, the Sun and light, poetry, and more. His two musical instruments were the lute and the lyre.
Athena was a talented flute player, as she created it, but others ridiculed her when she played due to her cheeks. In disgust, she threw away the flute and said whoever picked it up and played it would be severely punished.
"Tease for Two"
“Ein bisschen Zucker
mit Ihrer Sahne, Sir?“
German accent
smoky toned
she purred
Periwinkles suavely winked,
then played with his -
cufflinks
“Not now Schvee Tart”
he said holding his attache tight
looking across the room
grinning Lupine Blues
a slight smile on his lips,
bemused,
“Service calls,
her name is
"Q”
Across the dance floor
all eyes turned
Parting tall bus boys, handsome waiters
matrons with their peach blinis, their tart apple martinis
flustered debutantes
all poetic unsure
first time daters
dilettantes
rubbed their -
eyes again, they blinked
made way, made room,
for Q's
sashaying soliloquy
serious multi tasking
sensual stiletto Hell-on-High Heels
slick Scarlet lip-glossed
VaVaVoom
As it should be
entertaining control,
further into the room
across the dazzling polished dance floor
no pastie tasselling girls
on well-oiled silver poles
The Special Agent
slinked
The Old Boys
raised their drinks
He stands
She sits
"Ist das eine Waffe
in deiner Tasche,
Special Agt Schmidt?"
She glances at her
Bulgari Serpenti Incantati
and in English says,
"This better be good,
Now is not the time to quit"
Like a wolf
Periwinkles
grins
"Q," he low growl says,
"I propose a change in destination,
I've taken the liberty to buy you
feathers for your wings -
tickets Q...."
then flirtatiously adds,
"Simply adore your bling"
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
1. lupine/wolf
2. lupine/lupinus, genus blue flowering plant
3. Libertango
"Neophoca"
I was dragged
out of my ocean
of dreams
when they peeled
my skin, I was broken,
an endangered species
feeding bits of me
to the carniverous
genus species
the genus
and gender
predatory
covetting my
freedom they
lost themselves
in the comforting
arms of my trust
they wore me out
made sleeves
of me, stole
my baby
expensive collateral;
their ownership belittled,
bruised and scorched
victory marks
like tattoos
marched on me
they branded me,
attached
to my life
untruthful labels,
their ignorance
basking
became them,
the sins
of the fetid
patriarchy
such violence, this
devoted dv, the human
seed planted
my baby,
zoo trained
and chained
I became uprooted
stalked, staked and
claimed
I became owned
I drowned in my
mortal dreams
such violence, this
devoted dv, the
imprisoned truth
life blood escaping
the juxtaposed
real me
Selkie
the humble humboldt
priests call me
Neophoca cinerea
they call me
reverently,
they sing me home,
home
to my only
holy See
they call me
reverently
Selkie
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
THE FISHERMAN AND THE MERMAID
A young fisherman berthed in Penzance
Went ashore one fine night to a dance
He woke up on his boat
With a mermaid afloat
The First prize in a card game of chance
So was spawned a cross genus romance
Though the neighbors regarded askance
They got married next day
In a church by the bay
And went off to a fish farm in France
August 2019
Given N/A in Contest: ‘Two Sea Themed Limericks’
"The Forest"
In the forest
we meet strange gods
our reflections
are seen in their eyes
in our dreams
we remember them
we meet them face on
we touch them
they do not remember us,
they consider us,
we are common, and
very well known to them
we are like glass,
broken pieces
we are not smooth,
we are rough and dull, yet,
they see
straight through us
the bardo
dreams of us
it calls us back in
like moths to flame
for a short time
that seems like aeons,
we are remanded
in detention,
they survey us
considering
what is open
and what is closed
we are
their strange reflections
hesitating genus
common in their uncommons
hearts beating like wings
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
“This is what I believe:
That I am I.
That my soul is a dark forest.
That my known self will never be more
than a little clearing in the forest.
That gods, strange gods,
come forth from the forest
into the clearing of my known self,
and then go back.
That I must have the courage
to let them come and go.
That I will never let mankind
put anything over me,
but that I will try always
to recognize and submit
to the gods in me
and the gods
in other men and women.
There is my creed.”
(DH Lawrence)
Dear swollen-trunk maple, deemed
diseased by the saw-happy tree guy,
you who have stood silently, supposedly
slipping your ailment through your roots
to the neighboring trees, now fallen
full blast down, geometrically down,
right angle, then parallel at last, your flat-
sawn stump blotched with incriminating
evidence—you came and leafed
and are gone, and I who have grown old
in your lifetime, who intuited you rather
than knew you, felt you in my bones,
now feel the slightly thinner woods,
the hint of frailty. Scott the tree guy
has carried your eighteen-inch logs in his
red wheelbarrow and stacked them
for winter: a little Williams, a little Frost.
Oh tree, everywhere I look
I have to pledge reclamation, fill
the forest floor with ferns, mushrooms,
pine needles, and in the side corner
place the outhouse, practically unused
anymore, still in good shape, emitting
its rich human-waste smell, its wood
smell, its few spiders climbing
their trellises with their sticky feet.
Oh tree, so much has been discovered
to fill in the space where you were:
seven new species of Philippine
forest mice, a new genus of blind
Bulgarian beetle, four new species
of jewel beetles, six of New World
micromoths. I have filled my note cards,
I have left the vertical space open
for the Ur-tree, the canonical vision
that will take your place, even the stigmata,
your bulged and arthritic joints, the
whither of your leaving, the grand word
whither standing where you were.
How different this place
this sanctuary feels, here
inside one’s head. Where
insidious illusions fondle
a subvert mind, and obscenities
resonate within the confusion,
when fidgety creatures, assume
guardianship of my preternatural
situation, scurry around my space,
creating lattice of fabrication
across the quaking ceiling.
My imagination becoming
their fodder, my perception
their power, my tenacity
their strength, before spinneret
interweaves segregation of my
day and night.
Bollocks! To the physician of eastern
promise, he that controls this
nightmare, drip feeding diurnal
poison to this empathy
lost within an advocated paradox!
“Yet surely I have no need of
hatred, now I am confined within a
fragment of one’s dream.”
A genus of warmth; yet a confused
state of perplexity that knows
no boundaries, where bloodstain
walls survey me, incessant shadows
dance in gutless sunlight, and
radical rays anoint me with
“Hope and religion.”
I call out to Rock’n’roll!
Sammy Turner gives me
an impetuous rendering of
“Lavender Blue.”
Then I see an old man struggling
with his own situation. Touched
I call out.
“Are you ‘Jesus Christ?”
He scans my inquiring mind.
He senses I’m an imposter,
he raises one finger
affords me two words!
Both of one demystified syllable!
© Harry J Horsman 2010
The gift I'm giving you is already inside your traits
Smile at me only if your grin extends to your gaze.
A genus, warm, and lovely smile brightens your face.
I provide you dreams that rouse hope and grace.
I propose to you hues of joy as the glow of blaze.
The gift I'm giving you is already inside your traits.
I offer you tender and heartfelt views and embrace.
My gift to you is wider than just my inheritance phase.
A genus, warm, and lovely smile brightens your face.
My awe for you is akin though an angel aloft in space.
The ease of life is the fruit of giving in lovely praise.
The gift I'm giving you is already inside your traits.
The prize I'm giving you is wiser than the cosmos ace.
The present I am giving you is a prize from the uprise.
A genus, warm, and lovely smile brightens your face.
You, my kids, are the sunrise that dulls the fiercest case.
My gift to you is pure, total commitment! and love rays
A genus, warm, and lovely smile brightens your face.
The gift I'm giving you is already inside your traits.
Written: June 26, 2021
The Gift That I Give You Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
The giraffe
Haughty and fond of herbivorous feasts,
Tends to look down on his wee fellow beasts.
The elephant
Thin outer ears are gargantuan-sized,
Tickling the ivories isn't advised.
The pelican
Genus of water-bird with a long beak,
And in his throat there is food for a week.
The crocodile
Don't you be fooled by his sad, tearful eyes
He's out to get you - it's just a disguise.
The zebra
Sports a moheccan style tuft on his head
And he wears stripey pyjamas to bed.
The panda
Never one fazed by what's wrong or what's right,
Tends to see everything in black and white.
The kangaroo
He lives 'down under'- Australia's pride
With little Joey who's there for the ride.
The zoo
All of these creatures hang out at the zoo
Feeding time heralds a hullabaloo!
04/11/18
He offered me a painted flower
Its genus I did not know
But the token gift had the power
to melt my heart of snow
I really didn't give a fig
if it had been a bent twig
The gift he rendered on a whim
came from the best part of him
As dusk gives way, a great delight
The forest comes alive
At first, it's slow
Now off they go
They flourish, nay, they thrive!
The motivating force, the drive
Behind the wondrous glow
To find a mate
A longing sate
But little do they know
She, flightless, hungry, blinks below
Does not have long to wait
Her throbbing light
His lucky night
His first and final date
Not all seems right, but it's too late
A blinding flash; she bites
He won't survive
That's number five
The hunt is good tonight
----------
For the 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 16 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
Written on 10/1/22
the Roundabout: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/new-poetic-form-the-roundabout
Carnivorous females of the genus Photuris are known to entomologists as “femmes fatales.” These fireflies mimic the flashes of females of other firefly genera; the unsuspecting courting male flies in (expecting romance) and is promptly eaten.
Written: August 24, 2023
______________________________________________________________
In the realm where fallen souls reside,
Where darkness thrives and hope subsides,
There, among the shadows deep,
Dwarf, hopeful lights from the forest floor seep.
Amidst the trees that loom so tall and straight,
Split by such kindness, of light they partake,
And from nothing, one soul takes form.
She is life-standing, from the shadow she was born.
Her hair was dark, cascading as a waterfall.
Green eyes, such as the forest belt, thrall
A smile as genus as the moon grace,
She walks at a gentle pace.
In this realm where fallen souls reside,
She is the beacon and the guide.
With each step she brings to light,
Banished darkness, dispelling the night.
Her touch, a balm to wounded hearts,
Her words, akin to music, heal infarcts.
She sees the broken, the lost, the weary,
And with love, she brings them back, so cheery.
In this realm, fallen souls reside.
She is the hope they cannot hide.
With her tiny lights of love and care,
She brings warmth to despair.
Spangling the forest floor, she walks,
Shining a path where hope once balks
Through the tangled thicket, she weaves
Bringing solace to those who grieve
Her presence, a beacon in the night,
Guiding those who've lost their sight,
With each step, she illuminates
To redemption, the journey acuminates
In this realm where fallen souls reside,
She is the light they need to survive.
In the darkest corners, she finds the lost,
Whispering words of hope, no matter the cost,
At the end of our rainbow, we're so often told,
is an awesome reserve of a pot filled with gold.
At the end of my rainbow, no treasure for me
in the form of gold coins to use up selfishly.
At the end of my rainbow, inside my own pot,
they'll be wishes come true deep within to allot.
Like a resolute peace, in each country on Earth;
no more conflicts or war...oh, just think of the mirth!
To see total mankind as a genus of one,
for inside we're the same, from one God we do come.
Find the cure for diseases...their mysteries solved;
so the curse of these monsters is truly dissolved.
Find a way to stop hunger, both here and abroad;
with new food waste reduction plans, we can applaud.
Revise government rules to be fair, not corrupt;
make new laws so that violence does not erupt.
To respect our dear Earth, follow her wisdom too;
with her laws keep in sync in whatever we do.
At the end of my rainbow, instead of bright gold,
they'll be wishes come true for mankind to behold.
January 20, 2016
Contest: Your Rhy-Me Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Apple blossoms derived from the Wild crab
Birds of paradise resemble a brightly colored bird in flight
Cosmos flowers are very popular among gardeners for its beauty
Dogwood is a symbol of Christianity
Eastern redbud known as spice wood tree
Freesia flowers undeniably the “individualists” of the plant world
Ghost flowers depicted a ghostly translucent with reddish-purple spot
Hawthorn flowers heal the broken heart
Iris flowers symbolize as goddess of the rainbow
Jasmine known for its sweet, exotic fragrance for thousands of years
Kangaroo paw noted for their unique bird attracting flowers
Lesser celandine has a hairless perennial in the buttercup family
Mountain laurel known as mountain-laurel or spoon wood
Naked lady known for her scientific name amaryllis or “sparkling”
Orchids also known for its ‘testicles’ – shape roots as Greek meaning
Pussy willow fancied likeness to tiny cats or “pussies”
Quercus prinus a scientific name which means Chestnut oak
Ranunculus also known as St. Anthony’s turnip.
Spring snowflake known for its scientific meaning as ‘spring white violet’
Tiger lily stands for wealth and prosperity
Ursinia is named in honor of German scholar Johannes Ursinus
Viburnum also known as cranberry bush
Winter aconite is a genus of eight species of flowering plants
Xylosteum a scientific name which means European fly honeysuckle
Yellow anemone known for its other name as buttercup anemone
Zinnia symbolizes as lasting affection and goodness
04/28/16
9th placer in a contest
given by Broken Wings
11th placer in a contest
by Eve Roper
Your agouti mix with your silver sleek shine,
Your genus “canis lupus” known throughout time.
You hunt in packs deep in the woods,
So stealthy and confident just like you should.
Carnivore mammal, tough as steel,
You ripped me apart for your last meal.
Untamed and wild beneath the the moon,
You've startled me in my pathetic cacoon.
Unraveled, strings pulled out of needles,
So high strung, and a beast who wheedles.
A savage predator from North America,
With ancestors spread through Northern Canada.
You came and left in the blink of my eye,
I heard you found a home somewhere near by.
First time I saw you I ended up on my knees,
Searched for shelter crying out for indemnity.
Last time I saw you my heart was in ruins,
It's only because of your tedious undoing.
Later than sooner when we meet again,
I'll pray for comfort and hope to suspend.
Your call of the wild screeches in my ears,
As you pass on your legacy throughout the years.
Your agouti mix with your silver sleek shine,
Next time you're near I'll be disinclined.