Best Goldenrods Poems
A song of a sparrow in the springtime.
Birds chirp a lullaby at the peak of the morning sun.
Speedy is the dragonfly, wish I could catch just one.
Clovers fill the meadow and daisies are in bloom.
Brilliant as the rainbow heanen's scent perfumes.
I hear a sparrow singing sweet tunes of joy and glee.
Sing a song sweet sparrow, sing a song for me.
As springtime goldenrods glow.
I see a sweet sparrow perched upon a rose.
Elegant are the carnations,
and honeybees buzz me by,
God's mighty creations of tender springtime.
I hear a sparrow singing a joyful melody.
Sing a song sweet sparrow, whistle in the breeze.
Lilacs spread their fragrance.
Daffodils line the creek.
In the wind the lilies dance,
and crickets chirp at my feet.
I hear a sparrow singing such a sweet tune.
Sing a song sweet sparrow, lift the morning dew.
Sing a song the prince of love and let the music flow.
Drowning in sweet melodies I open my window.
Perched upon the cedar tree a mighty little bird.
Singing tunes of springtime for all to be heard.
Harvest Hues
Frost
Glitz on
Bittersweet -
Chrysanthemums
With sunshine centers
Wear tints of pumpkin spice
Marigolds debonair
Bow to Goldenrods
Rust Asters jive -
Celebrate
Harvest
Hues
9-7-21
Contest: Merse Beauty of Autumn
Sponsor: Malabika Ray Choudbury
When I think of you, my Mother
One thing comes to mind:yellow
Goldenrods and sunshine
Peace and all that's mellow
Halos, rings and lemonade
And honeysuckle too
Bumblebees and stary nights
And all the good that may shine through
Dolls with long blond locks
Babies yellow bonnets
Bath time duckies, lollipops
And also summer sonnets
There's many colors love can be
Red or even blue
But a Mothers love is somewhat different
With a golden kind of hue
Some day I hope my children see
That I am yellow too
For more than anything I say
I hope to be like you
Grinning grasshopper gallops gracefully,
Getting garden grasses,
Gathering green grapes,
Grasping gorgeous goldenrods,
Grazing grand grounds,
Greeting greedy grubs,
Gliding gallantly...
Going,
Going,
Gone!
I gaze at a saffron sunset
as a tawny owl sails overhead,
while yellow sunflowers feel threat
until evening prayers are said.
The flaxen fields and amber plains
reflect the xanthous of fading sun.
A copse of vivid ocher trees wanes
awaiting a primrose moon to stun.
Canary daisies soundly sleep
and dream beside a citrine lake
while glorious goldenrods peep
gaily as fallow bucks’ antlers shake.
Mary’s marigolds shine their best,
a nankeen horizon fails to arrest.
Soon the sun will propose its rest
and slip below the mountain’s crest.
This is a garden of sunshine granted
each an escape from our everyday trials.
Where sadness, anger, or lies aren't planted
because we all need a garden of smiles.
Where are poems found in this garden?
A few where Summer leaves barely a trace.
Some on life's dusty olden path less taken
or on a wagon wheel sorely misplaced.
I found several on butterfly's wings;
A short one atop a ladybug's back.
A Haiku found on Japanese maple.
In a rose garden, you'll find a whole sack!
They nibble nouns on lavender leaves
often spied sipping the nectar of gods.
Their words elfin messages in the sand
or hidden among weaving goldenrods.
They're where sprites play tag in the tallest grass
where crickets and grasshoppers sometimes sing;
and faeries dance from midnight till way past,
leaving faint notes written in fairy rings.
You'll find poems among soft cloud faces
They catch a ride on drops of summer rains.
They sing in spider webs' lyrical spaces
while lady spiders spin lacy refrains.
Garden faeries write words with flower dust
sending them whispering into the wind.
They toss and float til finding verbs to trust
so poetic thoughts may, at last, begin.
Words from my memory of poems I've read
are blossoms to be treated tenderly.
The thoughts they evoke are poems just bred
and add emphasis to poems to be.
I hope you'll enjoy my poetry garden
and find a few blossoms waiting for you.
If I left the rake on the walk, pardon--
I had some synonyms to attend to!
Snow falling softly o’er the meadow
Banking against the old rail fence,
It creates a magnificent afterglow,
I haven’t seen like it before, or since
This display formed by the recent snow.
Ice crystals forming on dried stalks
Creating a wonderland of fairy castles,
Shining like bubbling neon on a jukebox
Tall gray goldenrods becoming tassels,
Glistening droplets on the dried phlox.
With the waxing sun, it shimmers
Tremulously as the wafting breeze pants
I recall in summer the meadow simmers
Full of vibrant, living warm weather plants
But now the meadow only icily glimmers.
Written December 1, 2022
It’s my first reigning color
dazzling around my dance floor
It brightens my mind and soul
from its most attractive call.
Giving me smiles every morning
that’s sunshine--warm and refreshing
In my garden are great delights
favorite flowers shine so bright!
Just across my garden fence
are golden showers-- so dense
At the gate are big sunflowers
with yellow bells are real stunners!
Come and pick some marigolds,
goldenrods and daffodils, behold!
While gardening, I wear yellow dress
with gold jewelries, no more no less.
Yellow is my new time favorite
Brilliant color, so lovely and sweet
If you take yellow from my outfit
I’ll whine, walk out and finally quit.
sixth of May 2023 3.41pm
Writing Challenge “ Y” Words Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Verified at rhymezone and howmanysyllables.com
112 words
161 syllables
664 characters
Writing Challenge - 'Y 'Words
Contest Judged: 5/10/2023 12:00:00 AM
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Place:HM (up to HM multi-w)
Tulips and lilies never emitted their scent
so fragrantly and exhilarating...
by the lake of the descendent moon,that
I intensively sense the affable mystery of the evening!
Remote breezes,unforeseen and redolent,do
capriciuosly caress the brilliant surface
of the silvery lake,softened by a gentle silence;
only those red-throated dives can disarm it in their pursue!
The huge oaks,boasting their tallness,bow
and glance at the narrow paths,below,
verging on the aromatic grass glistening with fireflies...
where bitter-roots and goldenrods are their constant companions!
Someone is sitting by the peaceful waterfront in obeisance...
staring at the North Star: seemingly so reachable,but far;
as he,pleasantly and devotedly,strikes the srings of a guitar
with his invigorating and skillful fingers!
And suddenly everything,hidden by graceful shadows,harmonizes
itself with his melody...beautifully played in enduring patience;
unhesitatingly,he joins the incessant nightgales
to praise the persistent tranquillity enhanced by the Creator's presence!
A delightful description of spring spilling forth it's grace upon the earth, singing a colorful
song of peace.
An open window of spring grace,
a beam of sunlight touches my face.
The morning dew evaporates in the wind,
spilling forth the scent of jasmine.
Sing with me a song of spring grace,
a spider's web woven like lace.
A sparrow perched upon my swing,
sing with me a song of spring.
A red fern growing wild in a meadow,
goldenrods beam a golden glow.
Crickets chirping at my feet,
Sing with me a song of spring.
Shoot! Nothing like killing spree to bookend August 2019!
The latest homicide,
where gunman(men) slew
dirty deed done dirt cheap
half dozen innocent people drew
minimal horrific gasps, now a new
month (September two
thousand nineteen)
where goldenrods yellow
with morning dew
encompassing human zoo
welcomes unsuspecting killer(s) true
to form - predictably
will undertake to fire bullet(s)
setting calibrating counting queue
as month nine allows brisk business
bereaved will final adieu,
whether gentile nor Jew,
perhaps including
child named Caillou
instantaneously slain, who
knew
not what felled them
engrossed amidst social ballyhoo
ex post facto registering grievous hue
pallbearers accentuating somber view
eclipsing most recent prior massacres
similar to previous you
ululations yesterday's sorrows
without handy dandy blue's clue
motive explaining
cold blooded slaughter
unsurprising discovery
firearms Jane/ John Q.
Public kept stashed loaded, deployed...
guns up the kazoo
cocked, gauged, primed...
for unleaded opportunity
to unleash barrage
invariable generating hullabaloo
to curb bloody violence
trumpeting predictable brew
ha ha alloyed against National
Rifle Association almighty
Republican supported lobbyist crew
versus increased uproar
protesters chorus nearly few
tile opposition pitted grand Poobah
despite alarming statistics shew
plus increasing fresh gravesites dug
amidst freshly mowed fescue
attesting to wanton shell shocked
headlines indiscriminate brew
tilly assaulting sensibilities
without rhyme nor reason
yet, yours truly doth boo
leave rampant hatred
directly linkedin to
"FAKE" commander in chief
whose rabid vitriol hue
man fountainhead few
ming and frothing
lathers up right wing supremacists
greenlighting smoldering new
bile radicals hot headed
volatile mindset whereby
self anointed anarchistic Guru
possibly fuels global warming
evidenced by displaced Eskimos
flooding courtesy melting igloo!
Wandering eye trapses the fertile meadow
Silhouetted reams the azure streams shadow
A cacophony of colors wild but mellow
Shroud the svelte canvas bridging ford and dale
Gilded lillies glistening in their satin veil
Goldenrods with cherubic halos in the fawning light glimmer
Purple violets with their regal crowns swagger and shimmer
Bands of dandelions in their trite estate sway and swivel
Cream-colored honey suckles kneel dispensing their sugary drivel
Black eyed susans twirl their umbrellas in the morning dew
Bull thistles bristle; tidy columns of spears parading for all to view
Red and white clover carpet the fertile valley; fodder to strew
Morning glories fold their tents; the noonday sun to rue
White-frilled daisies with hearts of gold their radiant reams spew
Autumn is approaching rapidly.
Already leaves of many trees become
Converted. Some are changing vividly
To crimsons, russets, shades of gold and plums.
The asters, goldenrods, gentians abloom.
The insects lethargy increasingly
Arresting to the eye. Their fate presumed.
Familiar fragrances bewitchingly
Seduce me, spurring happy memories:
The children celebrating Halloween.
The jack-o'-lanterns smiling bright and stories
About the living dead are told between
The sips of hot deliciousness.... Cider!
Need I ask for more amidst this splendor?
It was burning again
like goldenrods in drift valley of ethnic hate.
You start climbing down deeper in fear
holding tight your identity.
The anguish of ruined home
under the shadows of bribed hands,
runs on the bodies of pilgrims
who were protecting the unborn baby.
Along the shores of morality, a prodigal
becomes a martyr, forever a blind rock
in the womb of an infant truth, not yet
reached the gates of heaven.
A father begs for pardon, spawning the
tireless edicts, with its grieving craft
of burdens and weightlessness. The time’s predicament
will not tell the secret of death.
SATISH VERMA
A droning time with its honeycombed eyes;
lives grown beyond their husks.
Bring green barges for the winching of the awakening,
portage willowy thrones to the wind thrummers,
gild each gap with a dewy wine.
Time to pull up the lady with the golden hair,
wash the water's with her amber and
blood-stones.
We have windows and behind them
volant dragons whisk goldenrods.
We have windows in ox-eye buds.
We see her serpentine hair swim
in the airy whim.
It is a droning time, a glut and glutch
on every glistening tongue.
It is a rivering.