Best Pansy Poems
Two artists that once danced on high trapeze...
then fell to doom, his death a fate unkind.
All hope bereft, her sanity soon flees.
Life lingers on, enduring crippled mind.
In steel-toed boots and shabby overalls
she takes her toy red wagon for a stroll.
Young children run to hide inside their walls,
unable to divine her kindly soul.
Did you dream of him, poor Pansy dear,
in his spangled suit so bright,
his arms so strong, his breath so near
as you joined him in the light?
She buys some fruit to share while on her quest
with those the rich might think a waste of time.
But charity, like mercy, is twice blessed...
the seller's price is always just a dime.
Some cans, some wood, some soda bottle caps,
the woman gleans the cast-off rubble heap,
to build abodes from simple artful scraps
for those who have no other place to sleep.
Did you dream of him, poor Pansy dear,
did you dream of him last night?
When God called forth, your mind was clear
as you joined him in the light.
color, dance, imagery, inspirational, poetry, wind, word play,
In my pansy patch
The flower petals surround
Cherub expressions!
The pansy petals
Edge their small faces in bonnets
Framing heads so well
Flower pansy dresses
My petal faeries wear well
‘Show-offs’ with such airs!
My faerie pansies
Bow and bend to the winds song
Under the sky blue!
Butterfly sets down
Over the pansy’s to draw
Syrup in the cup!
violet pansey
pokes through the snow
fog rolls in
There once was a pansy named
Fancy and she was as pretty as
could be.
She would stretch high above the
other flowers as tall and straight
as a tree.
Raindrops made her petals glisten
like stars in the sky at night.
Perky little leaves tucked in tight.
Then one day the gardener seen
Fancy's beauty noticeably clear,
So she reached in her basket for
her flower shears.
Oh! Please don't clip me from the
lovely garden here.
For I would surly pass and my beauty
would disappear.
The gardener in amazement touched
Fancy's little face and promised to
keep her there in the garden until the
last of her beautiful grace.
The Pansy Pink
Twenty second of October, 2013 almost over,
A new Bikie gang was formed called the pansy‘Pink’,
Their brother now in prison 15 years with no remission?
Cos he wore a Bikie, belt? Ah yes I think,
Down on the dusty borders, Police men wait with their orders?
To intercept any Bikie, who does from interstate, try to creep,
Old Soldiers on their Harleys wear their colors, been to Bali?
Arrested and searched, like some other lousy sheep,
The moral code of many,
including Police men, drops the penny,
The law is wrong that they are forced to keep,
Power crazed polititians,
laughed at with sardronic gasp derision,
its enough to make an angel bloody weep
And the bikies forced to wear the prison pink,
Bikies say they wear the pink for breast cancer ladies,
stick that one up you, son of hades??
Cos the madness and the badness,
You wouldn’t do to sheep,
But lunacy abounds in Queensland, madness,
surrounds,
Just ask anyone you meet…
Step on me today
You'll see me tomorrow,
Still loving myself
A trait you can borrow
The bumblebees know me
And so do the birds,
Butterflies aren't flustered
By silly, silly words
With sticks and stones
Piled 'neath my feet,
Along with the manure
I grow in the heat
I've got the sunshine
And I've got the rain,
The worms in my garden
The windchimes' refrain
I've got many friends
Who are one in the same,
So, call me a pansy
What's in a name?
Bad Syndrome.
Powerful sneeze
walking home
falling to
your knees
got nowhere
to go
takin' life
extra slow;
light breeze...
dog bone
chew, spit
by yourself
you sit
so afraid
don't know
the way.
Always worried
about yesterday.
OFFERING OF PANSY
Plucked at peak season, her blossom’s open -
Cleo, short for Cleopatra – brunette.
Her bloomer’s heart, displayed, shows she’s hope’n.
Hands him a pink pansy – eyes haven’t met.
Whistling inside, collar tight, he’s grope’n,
With fright. Cleo’s bold and brash, wide open!
2/1/2017
Laura Loo's A Rhyme In 60
Out of all of the flowers a garden could ever grow,
He reminds me of a purple pansy,
purple for his compassionate personality,
the yellow pop for his positivity,
each petal for his layers of kindness,
All of which I have discovered.
And even today, I carry my purple pansy with me. Right next to my heart.
sun sets graciously on gentle horizon
kissing silky damp beach
goodnight
shades of mauve and salmon rose as
waves lap soft blue sighs
skylight
dusk illuminates iridescent white
fragile flowers resting on
sand
bouquets that shower shore as
countless pansy shells crown
land
(Inspired by our recent trip down California/ Pacific drive-- Pismo is half way between 'Frisco' and L/A-- I was overwhelmed by this sunset walk and the hundreds of white pansy shells scattered on the sand--perfect flowers engraved on them reflecting God's amazing creation)
© December 2013-Kim van Breda
I am a garden pansy, a descendent of the family Viola,
poet's write praises of me not just these days;
but in the days of Spencer and Shakespeare, I am that old,
I am a small flower but a garden survivor.
You planted me in early Spring in the partial sun,
I love the sun and soon showed my purple face;
I am a cheerful upturned bright and happy garden flower,
symbolizing thinking and thoughts for you.
In the summer months butterflies caress my petals,
and bees steal my nectar but I have tons;
I love watching the birds fluttering about the garden,
oh, chipmunks bite 'cause I am edible !
On the cusp of two seasons,
We savor warmer days and sun,
But bundle up at night for good reason.
The air smells suddenly alive,
My mood's no longer doleful.
Time to revive and thrive!
Sturdy crocus open and close.
Chilling rains test their mettle,
As the snow pansy beside them grows.
Flocks of chubby robins flit over a barren tree,
Where a stubby woodpecker's rhythmic tapping
Underlies their cheerful melody.
Long, wispy strands of lime green branches,
Cascade from the massive dark willow.
Nature's reliable promise caught in sudden glances.
Tiny, red knobs on maple bud tips,
Promise spring will burst forth soon,
With the reassuring cycle of Nature's scripts.
M. Renee Taylor
4-9-14
Chipmunks tease us after we bloom
we're clueless as to why
the words of the birds and bees loom
we're small we don't deny
Grow low, we'll be out of the way
lowly we grew to be
thought our colors a bit risqué
butterflies shout, PANSIES!
When a seedling, handsome wind caught my eye
and together we flew with the birds
Then, suddenly, I tumbled from the sky
found myself in a land of rows in thirds.
Other seedlings lived there and asked my name
Bashfully, I answered, "I don't know it!”
Then you're undoubtedly a weed—for shame!
I just knew I would never outgrow it
one day, wearing silk petals, I awoke
like magic,, I was lovely. quite fancy
The queen I became by masterful stroke
and I'm now known by the name of Pansy
First Place!
Like magic there are leaves on trees,
grass is an emerald green sublime;
sweet pansies are gems in the breeze,
in the dusting of the Spring time.
A spring time pansy paradise,
each so lovely and full of grace;
gems that don't mind a bit of ice,
and more than just a pretty face.
In the spring- grandma planted them,
and butter's came to dance ballet;
and I helped mom plant this spring gem,
sweet scented thoughts of yesterday !
My spring garden sways and birds sing,
ice pansies- are part of my Spring !