Best Orchid Poems
Wild Orchid
I found her drooping, drenched
amongst the rocks and weeds.
I stroked her moistened face and
wiped away the glistening tears.
Beneath my grazing hands
she stirred – a glow of warmth
spread o’er her lustrous skin:
petal by petal she bloomed.
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
[41 words]
Some kind of sensual poetry contest
Sponsored by Nette Onclaud
Placed 3rd
© 5th June 2020
Now slipping in peace the hues of day
Maybe this I fully know;
Above the vales, the dappled fields
Of bushy lanes and down to where
The brimful city hoofs below.
Again I feel the seed of dawn
Coiled inside my roots till all
Of white mist were drawn.
I've twirled with the isles at night,
Sweet and chaste I lie
Where fresh and tinseled moonbeams sigh.
..............
Andrea Dietrich's Picture Yourself As A Flower Contest
*Orchid— symbol of refinement and innocence
5/8/2015
He meandered lonely
just a senior citizen
trawling the pathways of his computer,
when suddenly one day in a flash
an enchanting name jumped from the screen
into his unadjusted head,
whilst still in a daze
he had cut copied and pasted,
the delete key not an option
when sent to his favourites.
Then like magic, poetry began to appear
every single day a new poem would emerge
all written in a familiar dialect,
to begin with down to earth
raw unadulterated poetry
the kind that attaches itself to one’s mind
bores in to the head, rattles around
then lays awhile
then keeps coming on back, over and over again.
Poetry that penetrates, like an arrow,
pierces the heart, tends to linger
deep in one’s consciousness
disarming the most vehement of thought,
poetry that creates calmness
making one at ease, especially one
old with age and recipient of an endowment of excruciating pain!
Soon the poetry began to blossom
as all creations do
in the springtime of their lives,
the purity of Wild flowers, colours of the rainbow
free to sway within the gentle breeze,
soon each daily dose of verse begins to transpire
into carpets of lavender
upon the woodland stage, cascading Bluebells of joy,
the epitome of beauty unfolding
before one’s very eyes.
Again the poetry continues to consolidate,
poems of form formularized those conceived of
the Peace Lillie so sensuous in shape
so assuring in grace, a hard life the Lillie endures
yet one, only of positivity etched into each stanza
of bold narration for all to peruse!
Then a transformation
to the Rose, the very sense of beauty,
when with words of wrought
thy language comforting long into the night
to ease each day a journey of plight,
yet for you sweet Rose
thy poetry, it is not at an end
when to the Orchid you graciously ascend!
Many are those that come and admire
the wonders of your beauty those words on fire,
yet some desire more
with cunning and subtlety
those to manipulate to control
for one’s own ends.
But the Orchid remains safe
suffers no fool,
nurtured in extreme climates
is strong and worldly wise,
the poetry just keeps on coming,
flowing like tears of joy,
from an eye of one who’s happiness
is assured every single day!
© Harry J Horsman 2012
Oh you know the type—
the orchid woman
a cosmopolitan who cosmo sips
between snips of gist
her charisma a starship —collides
with your star-full eyes
supernova for Casanova
her pouty lips knit a glamour-mag smile
rows of sugar-white pearls
strung shiny straight
behind wet-red slicks of a Revlon stick
—cherry-juice bait dilates your want to taste
orchid woman’s glamorized mouth
for the masses to idolize
for many to fantasize
for her to tantalize
and advertise
there’s no need to compromise
with you
or your penny-candy conversation—
when beauty is legal tender
why invest in a waste of words?
ooh, orchid woman is w-i-l-d
an exotic sun-tanned narcotic
erotic her despotic bloom
quixotic your contemplation;
your entangled-limbs-expectation
that this frilly filly blooms just for you
and oh! just look how the honey makers buzz
watch the money-makers spend their sums—
worker bees blinded by her blonde neon
fall in her wake…
or maybe ‘diamond pro’s’ bling
stings and wrings their eyes
…who cares who falls..
when mere red rose adorations
and sticky sap Hallmark incantations
bear not the fruits of 24-karat donations—
Mmm! Mmm!
her traipse does shake like mango jelly sweet
orchid woman’s long-stemmed catwalk walk
full-rounded bouncy-buoyant racy-lacy-ecstasy
yup.. a thoroughbred— she’ll have you ridin’ high
to your credit and blame
you won’t feel her stiletto tips
when she diva-gold-digs ya
as nothing more than a runway-ramp
all slinky-strut-hips
and stay-the-night-vamp
till fly girl wields her strappy high-heels
in a rhythmical click-clack
all over the next middle-age stage
indeed! orchid woman
a hot-house hottie
fussy stuffy lil hussy—
...too much water?
….not enough water?!
oh no! she’s wilted—
sniffle.. snivel.. “where did I go wrong?!!”
mm-hmm.. high maintenance is s-u-c-h a turn on…
yeah… orchid woman is w-i-l-d (eye roll..)
filling the radio with words of availability
lot lizards selling their souls to diesel driving “Joe-s”
in and out of truck cabs under a weeping moon’s protection
Jane, works the night, wondering if her daddy knows
lipstick on and high heels strapped as the sun sets in May
call sign; “Wild Orchid” …. “Anyone looking for a good time?”
a traffic jam of radio chatter…… congested air waves
the August sun rises on a night of sexual crime
Orchid petals caressed with greased stained hands
her pale white color quickly wilts to brown
the young November night is holding her final bloom
evidence of violent pruning becomes talk of the town
a knock on the door……………….. a flower delivered
Wild Orchid’s father is asked, “Is she the one?”
he checks her stem, quickly recognizing his roots
inevitably, the withering of his blossom has begun……
The orchid moon and I look in kind
at the dimpled ocean's
aubergine plain, meandering thought's
violet caves. I've lost my way
in the lavender vortex
of a tuberous begonia.
A July storm has passed.
Brackish petrichor lilts with the purr
of surf, now jade in lilac light,
unfolding on mulberry sand,
effervescing at my ankles,
gentle as cat fur.
This full moon buoys
out past merlot bluffs,
reposing on a mauve ribbon
between sea and plum sky;
periwinkle stars beg to spark
beside the aura of a steadfast satellite
that casts the grape of night
in fixed solitude.
As an orchid in his life,
a reflection from his strife...
He's a flower in his way
and he would say...
I am living as a poem...
choosing freedom on my own,
and the mask of God would
speak...
Here is a clue!
From a message he would live
an adventure that would give...
special meaning to his life...
as he went on...
This would be an evolution,
not for him a revolution...
and he danced it all inside...
out in the rain.
All he needed was a room
and a time of day to bloom...
Such a place he didn't know
where to begin.
He brought forth within a day..
what became all in his way...
His experience would say...
Life is a poem!
And he found a sacred place...
he would use it for his space...
find a meaning for his life...
but there was strife!
Pain and suffering he'd achieve,
life with horror_he would leave
all he needed to get back...
was 'on the track.'
It had been there all the while
but his life became a trial...
Could he see or would he
choose...
another path?
For a life he should be living,
was the one when he was
giving...
He was living out a dream...
that was his own...
and he became a flower...
in the rain.
All the people in his field
opened doors for him to yield,
a refreshment for his bliss...
but he would miss!
So he followed just a thread...
to a path where he was led...
in a journey that for him,
required a death!
A renewal from his past...
something sacred that would
last...
One condition for another
he would find...
There were trials and
revelations...
for a while an incubation.
He found more about himself
as he went on...
Such a dragon he would slay...
no longer bound to his own
way.to
Something greater he would
give
in all his bliss...
From a mystery in life,
he found value in his strife...
and he became a flower...
in the rain.
July 27th, 2012
from The Power of Myth by
Joseph Campbell
Glorious hues arise from halo of morning sky
As dreamy eyes take me on a wondrous ride
Where cottony clouds scatter layers of purple
Adorning with shades of heliotrope flowers.
On my ride I visualize a celestial place on earth
Hearing fairy tales from fabled views unfolding,
And I ask my yawning bushes to vacate at once
So I can plant my lilac garden in sunrise colors.
Mesmerized by purple cues in orchid motifs
My day traversed gaily in enchanting overtones,
When clouds spewing gray darkened my show
Blocking twilight from glistening reddish glow.
Having lost sunrise, I hang on to sinking sunset
Assured by its scenic prowess I build my place
Near the lone lamp on street that is yet to be lit
Yearning for vistas of my daydream to repeat.
My place now occupies best of both worlds
Rising with mornings and setting with evenings,
Mimicking splendid hues of evocative contexts
Adoring fervent daybreaks and dreamy sunsets.
February 15, 2018
First Place:Sunrise and sunset contest by Silent One
Also placed first in ultimate 2018 contest by Brian Strand
warm whiffs embrace,
ardent blaze;
flickering flame
awakes an ache.
tame harmony,
into romantic lust,
burst orchid fragrance
in darken moment,
amid midnight twilight.
passion sound
roaring thunder
within, warm cinders
soothe budding moment.
like there’s no tomorrow.
silence gently fades
breathless in cascade release.
6/5/2020
Some Kind Of Sensual Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: nette onclaud
45 words
Nestled between two bronze columns
an orchid blooms
its fleshy petals slowly unfold
secreting honeydew on a warm velvet tongue
releasing an aromatic aroma
of wondrous ecstasy
to nurture a hungry soul, with wings
contest some kind of sensual
6/2/20/ sponsor nette onclaud
Blooming Orchid, free verse
34 words
Orchid blooms in soothing light,
New year's hope shining so bright.
Elegant petals unfold,
As hopes and dreams take strong hold.
Their fragrance, gentle perfume,
Bringing joy as the year blooms.
In this new year start we find,
Beauty and growth intertwined.
A year of promise and cheer,
Orchids swish, "Happy New Year!"
Flowers have that novel effect on schism,
where the uniqueness of its design forms
compare that White Egret Orchid performs
like its namesake, chicken or the egg, ism
being afloat plume or the blooming grews.
Soggy-bottom boys and girls 'tis they want
of this bit of a ground-hugger-like haunt.
Sophistication hails for untamed shrews
attracts from up or a transferred potter,
with a metal device tool like a pick,
the gifted angular, pruning, technique,
lauds the fringed orchid, White Egret Flower.
Monkey Face Orchid, to Yulan Pink Birds,
venture advances, the future ... occurs.
( For all the girls in the Western cape)
I am Oudtshoorn's odyssey of opulence, so ornate I make Aphrodite look underdressed.
My form is a sculptural miracle that bends light and reality with a mere whisper of perfection.
I am the quiet queen of the Klein Karoo, and my beauty is literally the oxygen you breath.
Scientists claim the stars rearranged themselves just to spell out my name in cosmic awe.
I am the ocular opera everyone wishes they had front-row tickets for.
To speak of my beauty requires a new language made entirely of sighs and rapturous adjectives.
Orchid –
Calling gently to my heart
Such beauty - delicate, exotic, graceful
Caressing my spirit
With a gentle colorful peace
Scenting the air – a sweet love breeze
A beacon of hope . . . of love
When sadness blankets my soul
When nights are long, cold and dark
When days are filled with a misty grey fog
This flower standing resolute
Whispers the eternal promise
Its beauty a glimpse into the eternal realm – creator God
A divine creation – a precious love-gift
Of a peace that lights up the sky
As my tears wash forth
My heart-pain is transformed into wisdom
My suffering into strength
My crippling fear into courage
One more time my glaze lingers
Bruised and battered, I breathe in . . . out
There! I have move past the pain
To embrace love and forgiveness
To be strong and alive!
Orchid
Calling gently to my heart
Such beauty - delicate, exotic, graceful
Love Generously ----
David Meade
10/27/2015
"Ghost Orchid, Violet"
plumes of purple blue
like a burning bruise, spear through my mind
the heart waits for the fall Evermore
with open palms it’s bright core forever calls
the light is blinding like a Ghost
and it holds its fresh petalled orchid stretched out to me,
petals opening the folds of a mind’s ever present dream unfolding
from a shrouded poem, dark embers brightening, a small story glitters
the essence of roasted paper rises
clean and sharp it turns each guache passage
you can hear the pages flip nonchalantly
notes of ink lift the senses like a seductive perfume
plurals write their orchid meanings stretched
volatile pink yet vulnerable across the page
like a revolution violate turning slowly, then,
lights dim and flicker with terrible speed
plumes of purple blue, notes sing blue purple
like a bruise, spearing through my mind
piercing the heart that waits for its fall in strange accords
with open palms the bright core immersed in its evanescence calls
perceived at the shorter end
of the visible light spectrum
a shade of purple with a blueish hue
turns to you, stares you full on
the watchers behind their screens
sit and squander it all
they that think they know it all
bathed in virtuous better off than all
in the end Love
like a ghost orchid calls
like light for lost ships
from some distant shore
violet, it shines,
like the heart burning
its hot bright flame
that dream
that calls you further in
Candide Diderot. ‘25