Best Pollens Poems
"Before a leaf-bud has burst, its whole life acts; in the full-blown flower there is no more, in the leafless root there is no less" - Ralph Waldo Emerson
I'm a sunflower,
dipped in honey of
bittersweet bronze smiles,
admiring its soulmate
strolling around the sun,
in sombre shine of
eclipsed dawn, whilst
these faes lure poisoned
pollens with flaming
ruby red ocean foams,
And I see a peculiar
patchwork on knitted
canopies, which are
sprouting clayey hearts
out of crimson crooned
willow branches.
Crumbling to pixies,
falling lifeless like fragile
leaflets in autumnal carols,
I believe, twin flame
telepathy is a souvenir
of roses and thorns,
which emerges as wanton
wildfire on the brim of
ocean's moon-song
in mellifluous mystery,
outlining turmoil in
turquoise land of trolls.
For, magnetised feathers
on matte lips always get
soaked in ashey sighs
of regret, whenever
bewitching conspiracy
of his amethyst eyes,
befalls in dialects of
forest's echoes and the
brittle skin of basilisk
slithers with a deadly gaze
upon my mulberry heart.
Chasing seasonal winds,
I became the fading mist
that succumbs to the
sheath of amber rays,
infusing in my lungs,
and suffocating my love for life;
Amidst these broken skies,
you left shadows of
pencil-sketched debris,
that float like wisps
of faulty daffodils,
distorting my dreams
and twisting thy truths,
in hellfire horizon that
sets our graves apart,
beyond million miles of
satanic soliloquies.
My three-year-old son stood next to me
as I watered our garden of flowers
The zinnias nodded their blossoms
As if grateful for garden hose showers
A firework array, was that garden display
Of pinks, yellows, orange,
Purple, red
When my son asked the cutest of
Questions to me
In the darlingest way ever said
As he eyed that large bumbling bee
That he found alarmingly too close to me
Not quite in fear, as its buzzing drew near
And it sampled of pollens so dear
But at his first sight of that yellow bright fuzz
And the loud droning volume of that giant bee's buzz
He just needed to know all was right
He asked
"Mommy? Do humming bee's bite?"
Come,
Let us chase the sun.
I know
It is better said than done,
To make life sappy and meaningful-
To keep time, word and money
Is vital.
The steady sun
With the broad smile all
In summer, winter
Bright and duty bound it is
Amid clouds
Black or blue
May be spring or fall.
See the flowers that bloom
The petals that unfold
The pollens that vitalise
The dew drops in morning do glisten
In time the animals so breed
On the dot does the cock too alarm.
To be a salmon I yearn
Leaving some heirs to glow the age
To give up life
In the scheduled place of origin.
As
Points all are as equal
To begin and complete a circle.
See the pollens and spores
from flowers and weeds
and all manner of life
sparkle on a stray breeze
in the late afternoon
sunlight.
Know that the dust in your house
is mostly you and your spouse
and what ever children are
still hanging around,
and that thousands of creatures
call that dust
home.
Hear that scientists are concerned
with the melt of polar ice
that releases ancient viruses
and a zillion bacterium
into our daily
lives.
Read that life and more life
travels through space
on a billion meteorites
and we must wonder where
we march in the procession of
life.
Redolent, posh lyrics have hidden flaws.
Surrounded by a rusty sapphire sanctuary
That dampened the beauteous bronze glow.
Gold-sparkly afterglows can be sumptuary.
Surrounded by a rusty sapphire sanctuary
with acidic pollens and nervous neon wisps
Gold-sparkly afterglows can be sumptuary.
built an array of dark and wicked tale tips.
With acidic pollens and nervous neon wisps
Where platinum wings are tightly encased,
built by an array of dark and wicked tale tips.
With ash, in the dawn of solace, unlaced.
Where platinum wings are tightly encased,
I wake anxious, wailing rain, loving the flute.
With ash, in the dawn of solace, unlaced.
Melding dark poem of doom into wool toot.
I wake anxious, wailing rain, loving the flute.
That dampened the beauteous bronze glow.
Melding dark poem of doom into wool toot.
Redolent, posh lyrics have hidden flaws.
Written: January 27, 2023
A chromatically colored specter
in flight, lands upon bluebells
in the garden; a statuesque palette
drinks the nectar from flowers;
collects pollens for crafting
her own gardens nearby.
The delight of a stained glass winged
butterfly, is ever profound;
nature’s sweet gifts of grace.
A Garden of Learning
Aljim B. Lituañas
Reading is a lovely garden
Books are the flowers of Eden
Readers are thirsty butterflies
Words are the nectars of their eyes.
O! Wisdom is God’s blessed rain
Brings us learning that we can gain
Comprehending is like a rose
O! Pricks each heart but scents each nose.
Ideas is a bright flower
Put to action, Brings we power
Reading with imagination
Is the best brain’s transportation.
We read, we learn and we believe
Guiding lessons in how we live
We are bees, Pollens—our learning
Spreading for a wide, wide fruiting.
A Garden rejoices when it envisions colourful exquisite blooms everywhere filling the empty spaces.
Lush green grasses are the attire it adorns and flowers become the embellishers.
Even a sad heart would feel enlightened & placid by visiting flowery garden.
In my heavenly serene garden.. once I sat and admired myriad flowers widely seducing the butterflies and bees through its aromatic succulent nectar and pollens..
They were all enjoying their appetizing feast.
At the same time..
I also noticed a pink hibiscus bud curled like a baby not wanting to bloom,preferring to remain a virgin..!!
I keenly observed as the butterflies were trying to kiss the petals and black bees constantly humming tunes to arouse it.
The mother hibiscus did not bother
Instead kept preparing herself to wither as her time was over.
The tiny bud wrapped the petals tight, covered her face and thoroughly weeped cogitating about losing her mom shortly and simultaneously scared by her predators who were competing around to conquer her heart.
Witnessing the struggle there climbs a saviour ant with his warrior team to save her from the trouble.He reaches to stimulate the tip & guarantee her that she will be safe and consoled her to stop worrying unnecessarily.
In few minutes competitors flew away and the bud was free from fear.
Visitor ants said "cheers" and left .
Mother flower bid good "bye" and shrivelled..
As the little one slowly unwrapped her petals to look at her world ..
A tear drop, up from the sky fell upon finally to deflower her.
She being fragile, now bloomed to be the most attractive flower in the garden.
I stood up went closer ,smiled at the blossom captured a picture and conveyed my first good "Hi."
28-7-2020
Second place in the contest.
Note:Petal, buds, blossoms, bees, birds, butterflies!
Poetry Contest.
Sponsored by Silent One.
Standing on some non-life fringe of life
embracing non-existent shape
like winds that stopped blowing,
I would be living in illusions
with fossils of life’s zest.
I would regard meanings
given by others so far
as refreshing boon,
I would still be enamoured of rose
or any heartless flower's smell
if tender tides of your affection
had not suffused
the pollens of my heart
with loving aroma.
modulations of my song,
images of my poetry,
my life story,
all would be making
a tedious dumb run
with no destination
sans beauty like
sultry gusts of drought
that flow over leafless treetops.
Sunrays would not descend
to lift my spirit
each morning
bringing life.
birds that fly singing for me
would not know
how to sing
filling their throats with love
welling up from heart.
My pleasures would escape
by climbing up empty times
thinking that is life
though not knowing
even half the mystery of love
not knowing
how melodious life is
if you had not demolished
shape of life’s rhythm sometimes
by gripping my heart
tender like love
so fragile that
even your softest words
could break it.
if you had not created
the scenography of life
with countless colourful plays
of your wishes
my desires would wither away
by making false explanations
of the beauty of Creation.
If you were not
what you are
shaped by my life’s melodies,
one who is standing
before you
overflowing with energy
carrying myriad desires
that would not be me.
---
(Translated from Nepali by Prof. Abhi Subedi)
Famed gold crepuscular rays angling down
Knifing in between, through volcanic haze
Hualalai and Mauna Loa’s crowns
Fire Goddess Pele greets fresh island day
Fuchsia blooms explode, steal attention
Pollens mingle on zephyr coastal breeze
Hallowed entry, this tropic dimension
Surf thunder backdrop, soundtrack of the sea
Running shoes crunching the roadside lava
Kaleidoscopic blooms, soon to transmute
Mango, papaya, lilikoi, guava
Untended harvest of paradise fruit
Slow tempo set to the island perfume
Soul dances in the fragrant sensation
Unbridled speed would be this journey’s doom
Not to give in to the exultation
Entering town, the cast of characters
Pungent whiffs of spoiled fish atop stale rice
Green Shangri-La’s dingy inheritors
Tropical Bukowski's frayed paradise
Amphetamine native, drawn skin and bones
Wincing eyes, loose grasp, cigarette homespun
Tribal markings long burnt, faded blue tones
Completed journey, dark side of the sun
Manicured denizens clutter the way
Fair guests at the Royal Lik’a’Heini
Young surf seekers grimace to greet the day
Pakalolo Hostel, skunk-and-briny
Volta at the pier, Triathlon’s temple
Hallowed asphalt, footfalls of history
World’s smartest man living life so simple
Broom pushing, tune whistling, smiling at me
I should run faster; it's Ali’i Drive
Temple of Ironman’s Marathon pride
Vainglorious dreams have boiled alive
Burgeoning pace, a seaside suicide
Fair breeze has halted, sharp rays now reigning
Blanket of torpor fights progress forward
Through fragrant pillow, all fight is draining
A ballistic migraine arcing southward
Demons exorcised, sultry purgation,
Epic journey ends in clear sacred brine
Feet dive in wet sand, a bless’t sensation
Gaia’s ocean of sweat swallowing mine
4/28/16
© Thomas W. Quigley
The mountains of brown covered with green carpet of trees,
When they nod their heads I feel cool winds and breeze,
Every time I ask them to come down, they say no,
All at the same time but how I don’t know,
The mountain peaks serve as seats,
And the passing dark clouds have their meet,
They share their worries for being black,
And shed their tears for a whitening pack,
The cries are loud with copious showers,
They look like beads on the peonies flowers,
Every drop tastes so good,
And the starving arid lands take them as food ,
The land is now fertile and the sapling grows,
As a beautiful pimple young girl face shows ,
From the tender crop to lush green women,
The beauty of which is admired by all breezy men,
Every time the male winds touch,
The greeny women puts her head down to blush,
She dresses herself with scarlet flowers,
And perfumes herself with fragrance talc,
She carries the nectar in her smiles,
For which the drone bees come from miles,
The buzzing honey bees play their bands,
And the pollens dance on the flower bed stand,
The glittering brook sings the song,
And the party goes till the sun is gone,
Now comes the Night lady,
With great beauty and white bindi,
She adorns herself with Lilly and jasmine,
And looks the most beautiful yasmine,
She bends down to see her reflection,
The convex meanders reflects with perfection,
She sings the song of silence,
And waits for her convergence,
This is a beautiful lullaby of summer,
And the nature goes for a peaceful slumber.
Ensue the view of morning dew
In beauties beau that cries for you
The sprinkled sprew cries in two
As the morning dew lies for you
Blossoms blow in nightly kiss,
loving's glow when hearts we miss,
For art thou love and art thou thine?
She is but love and therein mine
Caressing cue in sky-lit blue
In eternal dreams I long for you
Dancing dew's red poured petal
Glancing pew as pollens soared settle
We kiss and caress in a suffused glow
Our love will fluoresce with the infused blow
Beauty weeps but it shall grow;
Ask the heart for thou shalt know
Kneeling upon a smile to touch the vine
Scentful seeping in blissful sensation
Leering beauty and plucking temptation
Just one piece of nature's heaven divine
Arose to steal a kiss from sunlight's ray
Like morning's dew upon a suffused glow
Facing the zephyr where the blossoms blow
Where pollens aflutter towards the bay
Cool monsoon evening
Tender cold breeze!
Still dark clouds on the western horizon
In the back drop of the factory chimney
And the crest of the church and temple!
In a perfect silhouette!
Chirping home bound birds
Bleating goats on the mud hills
The whistling passing train at a distance!
Occasional cold swirling winds
Beats the window shutters
and
Brings
The odor of pollens and petals of flowers
And burning smell of rubber scrap!
The plunged darkness behind me
Added perfect contrast
Of the vivid nature outside!
The prolonged silence in the ambience
And the loneliness in my life;
Making my mood to swing to the nature
With no friend or foe around me
Except
the hot cup of tea beside me!
I just slide on the window shutter
Seeing GOD everywhere!
But resigned my self to my loneliness!
yet;
With content in life;
For what I had
I have
And be;
Deriving every pleasure
From every whisper and fragrance
Passing through the window!
Fleeting my ears and cheeks!
Drop of showers
Trickling my hands!
Praying GOD
To upkeep this
Just ambience
For ever till me!
Nothing more
Nothing less
krishna Baalu
Spring is not all blooms midst attacks of blight
Smiting hope-filled buds as pests strive to reign
My garden loves the Season’s festive sight
May it be spared against bacterial pain.
Spring welcomes birth, but why the threat of dearth
Struggling with rust and leaf spots not to trust
My heart longs for plenteous harvest mirth
Much yield to behold fruitfulness from dust.
Spring invites hope, yet health status is at stake
Shaking pollens toward allergy rise
My immune system knows what it does take
Might as well maximize weather-surprise.
Spring with glowing zest presents downside crest
My blest outlook for it settles the rest.
February 18, 2023
3rd place, "Spring Is Not All" Sonnet Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Michelle Faulkner; judged on 3/2/2023.