Best Magnolia Poems
Coffee bean scent still fills the air
with each new sunrise in our log cabin
My arms around me embrace the winds of winters gone.
Every sky-night the glass-pane glows in silent mist
Lunar limbs stream through bedroom blinds
reflecting shadows on empty sheets.
Star clusters shine'bove velvet shores
sand-wish away from my bare toes
Another day, another month, another year
and a thousand thought,
Can't preserve time or make a clone.
First magnolia blooms on a stripped branch
Buzzing bees extract nectar from a moist corolla
Pastel wings flutter on melting icicles
Sunbirds return with a sweet song,
But what is a song without the symphony
What is music with no slow dance.
His hand-pressed petal still marks the chapter
between stained pages
The dusty shelves recall my mind
recall my heart, recall my soul.
For the last time before tomorrow
these eyes would linger ,
Before leaves curl , before buds wither
Before moons move on, and I let go.
Revised repost.
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.
Coffee bean scent still fills the air
with each new sunrise in our log cabin
My arms around me,embrace the winds of winter gone
Every sky-night windowpanes glow in silent mist
Lunar limbs stream through bedroom blinds
reflecting shadows on empty sheets
Star clusters shine above velvet shores
Sand-wish away from my bare toes
Another month,another year,another thought
I can't freeze time or make a clone
First magnolia blooms on a bare branch
Buzzing bees extract nectar from moist corollas
Coloured wings flutter on melting icicles
Sun birds return in a sweet song
But what is a song without a symphony
What is music with no slow dance?
His hand-pressed petal
still marks the chapter between stained pages
The dusty shelves recall my mind
recall my heart,recall my soul
For the last time these eyes would linger
before leaves curl,before buds wither
before moons move on,and I let go.
(for The Beloved and in honor of Arthur Rimbaud)
… the magnolias are far away – still, I sing, begging
them for bridges to
brood with stanzas of butterflies
in the suffocation around and
heat mocking the sea where once we walked the shore
beneath the cruel commas of hawks
showering seraphimic curses,
pink roses upon storms
flung upward from spotted, inverted baskets, northern Iranian
mountains
aching
praying
wandering
the cavern between the olive-minuet of your eyes and
mine absconding their color from above and knitted by
anguished waves stumbling, floundering
into lunar mercury,
the slant of scouring rain
throwing blue into our faces
in cadences
dribbling from
lemons and leaves of tea, strong with riots
of black peppers hurting our tongues
along the central street
of our knowing, speaking
silence
without riddles
yet wrapped about our shoulders
with brazen mysteries hovering above
the staring magnolias
which now have crowded in...
… though I still sing
and always will...
… of you...
The mirror showed
a Chinese lady pedalling a bike
in a pink kimono
The mirror showed
trees bowing
to a tropical (pina colada) lake
The mirror showed
a pink bedspread
losing her magnolias
The mirror showed
me grabbing your arm
and twisting it backwards
the moment when we pretended
to be real ballerinas
shows in the mirror
There are those special moments in life
That become etched in one's heart
Leaving a sweet precious memory
Etched….. never to depart
I have one so treasured memory
Though so simple in its act
Entered my heart and stayed
With a huge impact
We had a beautiful Magnolia tree
In the front garden of a past abode
A florist asked if she could prune it
Taking the cuttings to her florist to unload
Yearly she pruned the Magnolia tree
Always with an assistant there
This particular year it was a young girl
Lovely, pretty with dreadlock hair
When leaving the girl went to the front door
For what reason l did not know
What that sweet hearted girl did
Left my heart aglow
On the front doormat
She had placed one big beautiful magnolia flower
That innocent kind gesture
For me ….held so much power
It touched my soul in such a way
It has remained with me through time
Just a simple act of honest sweetness
Now forever etched in my mind
Why did they plant the magnolia
in the tight corner between the house
and the garage? There is no room for a tree.
Each spring, she blooms valiantly;
each summer, she stretches her branches
with the large leathery leaves
over the roof;
you cut them. Last year,
I cried. The blossoms
unfold in front of my window.
Today, the more fortunate magnolias
all over town already in full bloom,
she holds out a few pink buds like fingers,
and the mutilated trunk sprouts shoots,
and there is almost hope
that something new may, once again,
grow.
From my new collection "The Eden of Perhaps", Spartan Press 2020
star magnolia's buds
swollen in heart of winter....
the pines sway and sigh
Star Magnolia in the winter cold
Can you give me any hope to hold
There on your branches, buds of silver
In this cold, I feel them shiver
But they are giving me a shred of hope
That soon spring will surely kaleidoscope
Goodbye record blackened storm,
And as I lie drying from green to crisp
Waiting for the inevitable debris city truck,
I shall drain my memories,
You were only two and I was 5 feet tall
When you hovered in your sandbox
Making mud pies,
And I shaded you when you read your first words
On a palette under summer skies.
Dropping big white blossoms as I grew
And spread my arms bearing wax of green,
And now I lie on your parkway telling
Your aging appreciation goodbye,
And are you crying?
So am I
(STEEL) MAGNOLIA
Breathtaking,
Delicate beauty
Of Creamy Perfection
With Roots Running Deep
In Southern Soil,
A history almost
As old as time,
And endurance
As tough as
Steel;
She defies description
And explanation
But...
Beauty is its own excuse
2012 Patricia Neely-Dorsey
from My Magnolia Memories and Musings -In Poems
#southern #southernpoems #steelmagnolia
Tulip trees pink blooms
January blossoms
Warm my frosty thoughts
Outside my window
I watch you
since winter began
to hold your beauty close...
I will protect you
from the rain and cold
as you wear
your grayish-green coat...
when Springtime comes
you will release
your sweet perfume
exotic in all its splendor!
Your beautiful flower
like hands will open
fingers uncurling
your beauty hidden in winter...
~ ~ ~
Married under a lavish evergreen canopy,
aromatic blooms filled the evening air.
Grand was our cathedral of open sky.
Newlyweds kissed
on the twenty forth of May (your grandparents' anniversary).
Lying above us on an old lower limb:
initials side by side, theirs and ours,
artistically carved by him and you, many years apart.
Sweet bridal bouquet of magnolias you cut.
When as your grandfather's tradition to your grandmother,
each twenty forth of May, she and I received a bouquet.
Even after his death you carried on for both of us, then to her grave.
That tree bloomed two lifetimes of bouquets, both bitter and sweet.
Then we parted.... Went our separate ways.
Reality sometimes overshadows romanticism,
although true love never dies.
Deep in our hearts the magnolia still blooms.
I missed you as much as you missed me, those eleven years,
till one day the sun stepped up on my porch.
I knew when I looked in your eyes and felt your embrace,
On the twenty forth of may, I'll receive a bouquet.
Never again will we part.
Long, feminine lines
Milky white and yawning
Acknowledge the morning,
Queen of the waxy green
The world lusts after you
Craves your ghost perfume
And you lounge, resigned, in the half light
Tending to your tenuous beauty
Yellow veins in the sun
Heaving and sighing,
In your supple envelope
Leading to the tower of jewels
Beckoning a vigil at your center