Best Myrtle Poems
Eventide’s misty winds gently oscillate
Colorful clusters of crepe-myrtle flowers
Crowning atop rows of elegant tree-trunks
Blooms lavender, pink, red, and purple
Hanging in air from tips of twigs slender
Bowing to earth, donning green foliage
Arrayed in symmetrical flower-bouquets.
On a summer stroll, my hand you hold,
Gazing rhythms tilting back and forth
Swaying gracefully symphony of colors
As synchronized whispers merrily rustle
Echoing intentions of doting twilight sun
Beholden to season's gift of blossoms.
Gales now swirl, petite petals disperse,
Whirling confetti, drifting dances aerial,
Sprinkling fine motifs of tinted splendor
Twisting, turning, in eve’s amber passion
Flying all over, as we gaze, wooing love,
Where violet-sky above artfully evokes
Opaline glimpses of dreams ephemeral
Inscribed in spectrum on crimson horizon.
Written: March 13, 2021
Placed 6th: Submitted on October 14, 2022 to:
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 17 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Poem of the day on March 15, 2021
Placed 1st: Flower or flowers in imagism form poetry contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Placed 1st: All yours (March 17) by Brian Strand
Categories:
myrtle, flower,
Form:
Imagism
The bark peels back like old skin—
Mine, yours, the cinnamon scrolls
Of what we shed to live. August
Bleaches the world to bone, the bark’s faint spice
Rising in the noon glare,
Heat tasting of salt and sand. And still this Crape crowns
Itself with Myrtle fire. Still—
I cannot explain what breaks in me. Still I press my cheek
Against its flaking flesh, feel
The pulse beneath—magenta,
White, pink, the deep red
Of what I've never
Bled for anyone.
Each blossom a small fist
Opening with the muted pop
Of summer rain on dry earth. Each petal, tissue-thin
As the lies I've told myself
About enduring. The Eastern Shore sun
Has made this tree what survival
Looks like: stubborn—
Beautiful, built for the burning
Seasons that strip us
To what we are. Winter comes,
And I am learning
How to be naked—
These mottled limbs
My teachers, conductors' hands
Mid-gesture, never finished
With their fierce music
Of staying alive. Of reaching
Up through the killing
Cold, brittle air ringing
With the clink of frozen twigs toward something
Green promises I cannot fathom—yet still I know
Lives in the light returning.
Categories:
myrtle, august, change, endurance, growth,
Form:
Lyric
As the garden grows…
This one is For Sythia
Rose may not agree
She’s the one who seems to think
That “Everything’s for me!”
Their beauty is so petty
Tulips speak with ease
“Let’s hope this doesn’t Croc us”
This late Spring eager freeze
Yes, Daisy is so worried
She knows she’s getting old
How will she support herself
“Not all can Mari gold”
Lily is in Lavender
Seen heading to the Station
She worries the environment
“We are still a Car nation”
Though Sythia is fragile
She’s grieving recent death
Mums the word when she’s around
She eyeing Baby’s Breath
She’s dating that Sweet William
And that’s why Rose is sore
At last Spring’s garden party,
Will and Rose had known L’Amour
I guess they all have problems
Just ask that Prickly Pear
Won't even say Hi Biscus
With his nose up in the air
I wish they’d chill, relax and eat
The ground has been so fertile
Just then Azalea shouted out
“Hey, hand me a Crepe, Myrtle”
Categories:
myrtle, flower, fun, funny, garden,
Form:
Rhyme
O, beauty, blooming late under summer sun,
unrestrained crape myrtle, indeed you are one
species I will allow blest freedom to run
in wild abandonment.
You alone grace my deck with expanse and height.
As the soft winds bid you to dance, I might
join beneath your limbs by chance and take flight,
floating to Shangri-La.
I sense your trunk trembles when I take my shears
to prune your wint’ry skeleton. What appears
to be cruel, strengthens you throughout the years -
a blessing in disguise.
Your August glory magnifies my whole world
as your gorgeous, rosy pink blossoms unfurl
into a parasol. Your magical whirl
hints of Mary Poppins.
written April 6, 2017
Categories:
myrtle, allusion, beauty, fantasy, flower,
Form:
Ode
Myrtle the Turtle
There once was a turtle named Myrtle.
She could speed through a maze and climb a hurdle.
While she was small, she was a friend to all.
And remained safe from a kitchen overhaul.
Years passed as she raced for many children.
Through mazes designed in childlike fashion.
Lined up building blocks, her corridor defined.
Faster than all the others, her speediness shined.
She heard cheering children as she plodded fast.
Quicker than lightening our childhood flew past.
Playing on the floor so much laughter roaring.
A turtle named Myrtle beget years of adoring.
But then the day came when she was big and fat.
Myrtle somehow disappeared; imagine that!
Fear and distraught brought a terrible rouse.
Frantically we searched running house to house.
Never discovered though we searched with quickstep.
Three children sat crying on their front porch step.
We thought she had been taken to become turtle soup!
It was a devastating day for the turtle-loving group.
Surprisingly, later, in a nearby pond
Where a neighborhood boy with our playmate did abscond.
We saw Myrtle, our turtle, and her baby turtles, too.
She had escaped turtle soup and made freedom's debut.
© August 3, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen
Categories:
myrtle, childhood, nostalgiachildren, day,
Form:
Couplet
Lost like unused syllables in unrhyming words
petals of frilled sorrow drip to the earth from weeping trees,
crying each filigreed petal slowly, one by one,
in cascades of gentle tears to their tender rest,
shaping billowing beds of brightly colored pillows,
until soft breaths of evening breeze exhale long sighs
through longing limbs creating whirlwinds of smiling fragrance
in the fawning dance of each nectarous petal.
Like lover's swirling in life's last dying embrace,
reflections of cold loneliness slip past with each fallen bud.
Soon the flowers will be lost in winter's stark gray advance,
and the smooth bark of the Crepe Myrtle will lie dormant
yearning for the elongating warm caress of Spring,
and its delicate chiffon cloak of humbled innocence,
again hiding its discomfiting gnarled nakedness
behind silken vales of scintillating incandescence.
11/07/15
Categories:
myrtle, flower, tree,
Form:
Free verse
Crape Myrtle tree, a beautiful sight
Blooming in summer as days turn warm
Purple petals fall, a visual delight
Crape Myrtle tree, a beautiful sight
Delicate blooms, soaking up light
Flowering in splendor with unique charm
Crape Myrtle tree, a beautiful sight
Blooming in summer as days turn warm
Flourishing tree, reaching to sky
Summer sun sizzles, beauty remains
Lush branches touch birds flying by
Flourishing tree, reaching to sky
Sunshine streams through clouds on high
Children seek shade in wind song refrain
Flourishing tree, reaching to sky
Summer sun sizzles, beauty remains
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, March 15, 2012
Categories:
myrtle, nature, seasons, beautiful, beauty,
Form:
Triolet
crepe myrtle's bare limbs
peeled bark reveals red-brown tone...
sparse seed pods remain
Categories:
myrtle, nature,
Form:
Haiku
Myrtle Beach was fun,
lots of surf, shells, sand, and sun,
and relaxation.
Categories:
myrtle, beach,
Form:
Haiku
Crepe Myrtle flower
Delicate inviting bees
Come early breakfast
Categories:
myrtle, nature
Form:
Haiku
Alas this is a tale of overweight Myrtle
With help from ladies getting into her girdle,
They stressed and strained and pulled so hard,
When an exploding Myrtle caught them all off guard,
The ladies were placed in great peril.
Categories:
myrtle, funny,
Form:
Limerick
hot pink wig blowing
in the wind around thick limbs
razor smooth barkless
For Linda Marie's contest
Categories:
myrtle, funny, nature
Form:
Haiku
Salty mistiness enters my head.
Nostrils take in. Waves crash!
Sting rays sting! Crabs scatter!
Sandcastles, built wet on dry sand.
Walking miles on water-lapped shore.
Caesar remains, constant companion.
Then man politely asked for my hand.
Next year, for my hand in matrimony.
Ah. Salty, misty, water-waves pull.
Floating out to horizon, swim back.
Suck in the sweet, ocean air retreat.
Summertime vacations, every August.
Gray, weathered house, long ago gone.
It provided shelter, bed to lay head.
Shish kabobs! Stone crabs from fishy,
Dead heads on string. Left turn, bay.
Categories:
myrtle, childhood
Form:
Narrative
Myrtle the turtle was as slow as could be
She knew she could never climb up a tree
She knew she could never win a big race
She knew she could never fly up into space.
She knew she could never ever roller skate
And, yes, Myrtle the turtle was always late!
My goodness! What could Myrtle the turtle do?
[Note: Any child 5 or under will have lots
of ideas about what Myrtle can do!]
FIRST PLACE WINNER
March 5, 2021
Written for Nursery Rhyme Contest
Sponsored by Eve Roper
[Published in Nursery Rhymes & Stories From Poets Around the World, Eve Roper, Editor, Kindle Direct Publishing, 2021]
Categories:
myrtle, child, nursery rhyme, poems,
Form:
Rhyme
There once was a turtle named Myrtle
Stuck in a plastic ring girdle
It altered her mass
Into an hourglass
Leaving her deformed and infertile.
Categories:
myrtle, animal, environment, nature, pain,
Form:
Limerick