Best Ivies Poems
The magnolia almost whispers to me.
Let the stream pass by me, nourishing
Food that comes from the sweet current.
That flows from hills down to my cottage.
There are many quant cottages around,
All decorated with climbing green plants,
I love them all, ivies, clematis, vines, and more.
But I am in love with the magnolia tree.
She blooms in late Spring, silently full of fragrance
Night or day it is a splendour of pure delight.
Alas the bloom will fade, as all things must,
But beauty is not eradicated easily.
Its petals remind me of days long gone,
Of laughter echoing through the garden air.
Now I sit beneath its shade alone,
Yet feel embraced by fragrance that once spread.
Follow the path that runs through the dale
Where it turns leading down by the spring
Lush ferns and ivies line the trail
Nearly everything bites or stings
The dogwood blossoms and the redbud trees
Paint splotches of pink and white
Their aromas wafting on a lazy breeze
Awakening the senses with delight
Gray squirrels and chipmunks will timidly hide
The birds will announce your arrival
An intruder alert which nature provides
A necessity for their survival
Over the ridge, into the ravine
Where moss covered rocks are chairs
That's where I'll be, by the gurgling spring
Come and find the solitude there.
December 3 2016
by Daniel Turner
Off with the old, and on with the new,
Hopefully good ambitions all pursue,
Salute Lord Tennyson do or die!
Ring out wild bells, to the wild sky...
I will read my Alfred Tennyson,
Meanwhile, eating my wild...venison,
Past mistakes absorbed of Old Langsyne.
Ring out wild bells, to the wild sky...
Remembering old youthful explores,
Living in the wildwoods with wild boars.
Lying back in Green Ivies, resting eyes.
Ring out wild bells, to the wild sky...
Reading my Lord Alfred Tennyson,
Up nigh blue sky eating venison,
Watching as an old hexed world goes by.
Ring out wild bells, to the wild sky...
Remembering olden days forgotten,
Many hated days picking cotton,
Gazing at sky dreaming of future pie.
Ring out wild bells, to the wild sky...
The apple feminine of my eye,
Her nature’s beauty, provokes a sigh,
Such awesome beauty a man could cry.
Ring out wild bells, to the wild sky...
Me O my.. an apple of the eye,
Living my heaven nigh, way up high,
Missing…kissing.. ladies, hearing them sigh!
Ring out wild bells, to the wild sky...
These olden days have come and gone,
I purposed poetically in a song,
As salute to Tennyson do or die,
Ring out wild bells, to the wild sky!
For and in Honor of Dr Ram and Contest
RESPECT YOUR FREEDOM
I glance through my verandah window,
Birds flying over my head freely.
I imagined myself floating like them,
In pain complicated, reminiscence shown deeply.
The afternoon breeze breeds an aroma,
Like fresh cologne of summer ivies.
Unlike bad odors always ventilating thru my nostrils.
All I see is beauty of nature’s creation down peak Lang Street.
I cease to be virtuous persuasive!
Bearing in my mind the righteousness of every individual,
But the world is never consistent to inhabitants,
And all that nature has conceived seem to be miscarried.
Felicity we used to have is now buried by the avalanche.
No matter the yokes our fore fathers burdened,
The chains they footed, we still not free, not in this degree.
Natively as indigenous but still feel like apaches.
Our roots are rooted out like weed indeed unfreed!
Visions screened in our minds succeed in destroying
Beauty of our lives in noble disguise.
We imbibe intoxicants excessively in excuse for our guilty conscience!
Will in moments of grace my pure words ever attain quality of deeds?
Freedom blinds us to the unknown!
The powers we possess lead us to temptations!
We enslave and indulge ourselves in injustices!
Yet we jeopardize our freedom through contempt and hostility!
Crime and violence generates prolonged vendetta
To our fellow white counterparts through racism and brutality.
Respect your wealth and take no part in exploitation of immature women!
Respect God’s Temple and never take part in the prostitution society!
Respect your freedom.
By Willem Pietersen
Home.
The deepest crevices of your arms felt like home.
It was a place of warmth and comfort
A place where I can nudge my nose into when it is cold from all the outdoors.
It reminded me of a sunset that I can feel close to me
I melted whenever I would push my nose up against your armpits.
I wondered of all the adventurous stories you've gone through
Those armpits of yours.
It was a story of a sunset when I felt it on my nose.
My nose was my eyes whenever I felt the tip of the
words brush on me.
It was moist from all your trekking and warmth from all the talking
You’ve been through the day.
It smelled nice too, like a field of ivies and dandies
Home.
What a place to be when I’ve trudged up all the mountains of life.
Home.
A place where I can be, putting my legs up on the sofa and slouched
You remind me of a place I want to walk through, but it is there.
There for me here in this place I call home too.
Are you chameleons, dearest leaves?
Stealing colors of amber, like thieves;
Hiding pure gold dusts within, sometimes,
Putting on crimson shown like sun-shines...!
Birds, dear, from for lands! Don't go away!
You're nature's pleasure; kindly do stay!
Nightingales, cuckoos, swifts, and cranes,
Tell us, time-to-time, your inner pains...!
Blackberries, rose-hips and crab apples,
Laced with vivacious cocktail samples;
Ivies, yet, seem to start flowering,
Your scent, like clear cologne, hovering...!
Seeds! Fallen like very falls of Christ!
Though within womb of earth, iced and sliced;
Will resurrect and resuscitate,
Ascend toward ethereal state...!
I sense you, dear autumn, you tickle,
Each vein of heart and mind, you prickle;
Falling of leaves makes me unhappy,
I know, they'd spring greenish and sappy...!
20 August 2022
Hint of Autumn Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
I am leaving
I am leaving and I forget everything rolls
I am leaving and I forget everything dies
I am leaving and leave memories
I am leaving and leave the diamonds
I am leaving
I am leaving, my love life
I am leaving, my queen
I am leaving, my inspiration
I am leaving ya ivies
I am leaving
I am leaving my departure and was hand
I'll be back and I came back with my own hands
CHRISTMAS WITH FAMILY
after breakfast
tangled in my father’s flings
hoped for an heretic utopia
cried the white guilt
he put next to me
as a list of chores
after lunch
ran in the wild field
of lost fairytale heroes –
denied the unicorns’ existence
as forbidden caress
cherished stone gods
washed in storms
after dinner
cradled alone – velvety corner –
daydreamed myself to sleep
raised glass cages
to free myself from the rest
screamed in night terror
sleep walked
caught
in my grandmother’s hunter green ivies –
didn’t tap danced just tip toed
a slaved personality without Spartacus
chained to the words
There was a sunny spot in my eye,
a region of riots and ripples,
a cause for resplendence
in mosaic mysteries
and myriad myths;
Tendrils and creepers,
ivies and myrtles
and an emblazoned bliss…
There was a sunny spot in my eye,
beyond the honeydews,
the hills and the hedges,
that nestled the we;
the you and the me…
Tended with diligent care and toiling
Prayed for against pest attack so severe
Being nurtured by God’s bountiful grace
Our church gardens* are flourishing indeed.
Abundant green and leafy vegetables
Sway healthily exuding their nutrients:
Camote, alugbati, and sili
Likewise, ampalaya, talong, okra.
Herbarium corner shouts vim and vigor
Since herbs serve with supplements’ readiness
There’s aloe vera; here’s serpentina
Sambong on the right; herbabuena, too.
Hedged with bamboos are ornamental plants
Vines and ivies find solace in their nook
Robust bushes, “fortune” and “welcome” reign
As shrubs of pink petiole and red gold peep.
Blest to be refreshed from these garden sites
I then linger near the acasia tree
Savoring oxygen breathed out freely
Thanking the Creator for flora-wealth.
Such is our Botanical Ministry
Offering sweet replenishment from stress
With greeneries’ beauty of wellness strength
Toward invigorating service-bliss.
*Jeremiah 29:5 …Plant gardens, and eat the fruit of them.
June 11, 2020
4th place, "Garden" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Dear Heart; judged on 6/13/2020.
In cracking lights, beaming smiles, lost in the moment, busy minds,
Someone just got lost in my vision, reached out to my senses
Hurricanes, poison ivies, king-sized towers turned out to be a joke
For a guy like him whose blossoms can move sky-scraping fences
Out of the blue, with every moment that’s true, everything seems ethereal
I’m in depth of crescendo, rhyming with the bells, dancing with auroras
And somehow, I stopped as I remember my plethora of phobias
I let go of him, my oasis, but he’s like the wind that walked with me
Chasing past shadows, wrecked ivory towers, tricky sorceries
With him touching my hand, I let go of those fears
That smile, those eyes, those memories in radiance
With him touching my heart, he let go of me.
March 31, 2021
“Touch and Go”
"It comes to me in childlike dreams,
a peaceful place to run away too." Quote by_ poet
Fluttering in the enchanted garden,
luxuriant foliage unburden.
Serene illuminated by fair hues
of gay sunshine overflowing muse.
Buzzing bees and colorful butterflies,
teasing the lavish flora's pretty eyes.
Flipping, swirling in midair a small fay,
gay pixies lurking so childlike in play.
Labyrinths flight through ivies, trees they fly,
like popcorn popping quickly go awry.
Within ancient keeps where stony shadows sleep,
And ivies tower their solemn watch maintain,
My heart, a fortress, guards a love so deep,
Against the mortal world’s unyielding rain;
No novel scheme, or lack of passing whim,
But built with stone that long ago was set,
Against the siege of doubts that make love dim,
A flail of thought, a whirling, wild regret;
Yet in this strength, a tender secret lives,
A banner flown for you, my lady fair,
For whom the castle's trapdoors relent, gives
Passage to sunlight, yonder fragrant air;
Thus, built for war, this fortress of my soul,
Behold your gaze, its peace, and thus made whole.
WILD
At the foot of my garden,
Where nobody goes
There are foxgloves and brambles,
And a pink rambling rose.
There are nettles so tall,
They strive for the sky,
Ivies and grasses,
Sprawling near by.
Buttercups and daisies,
A scattering of clover,
Mosses and meadow sweet,
Trying to take over.
Willow herb, lady’s mantle,
A riot of greens,
Sweet smelling honeysuckle,
A desire to be seen.
Their aim is survival,
So they turn to the sun,
Or seek the damp shade,
Where deep shadows run.
They fight for the light,
And for freedom to roam,
To find their own space,
A place to call home.
Next door is a garden,
So different from mine,
Neat rows of dahlias,
In a straight line.
Fixed to the spot,
No freedom to move,
To find their own joy,
In a place that they love.
A chance to explore,
And play like a child,
To follow our dreams,
And live free and wild.
~ Prejudice ~
O, that's a snappy book jacket
That book looks interesting
I think I'll buy it...
Doesn't she have a wonderful smile
It just lights up the universe
She'd be a terrific goodwill ambassador for the WNBA*...
Wow! Look at how long his fingers are
Looks like he can cover two octaves on the piano with one hand
I'll just bet he can really tinkle those ivies...
~ Prejudice ~
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*WNBA = Women's National Basketball Association