Best Poppy Poems

The symbol of remembrance is the red poppy
When I look upon it, this is what I see,
I see courage, sacrifice and extreme bravery
See thousands enlisting...

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In the May-time of my life
time bloomed each day a prickly boll –
but I, like the softest cotton within such a sharp seed  
swaddled...

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A field afire
papery petals glow like ruby votive candles
a collection of cupped solar flames
vowed to shine despite the dew before dawn
evaporating any doubt the sun...

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Eyes are the windows of a soul and they say ‘Love is blind’
But how do you describe colour to a sightless person?

Such depths to your...

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Evergreen flavored mantras
did nothing to purge bitter bile from my lips
nor slake the smoldering thirst for a Rosary remedy.
Tick-tock petals unfurled one by one
as your...

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Blush
fair skies 
mist Sol-kissed
citrine seduced 
mimosa clouds bask
dreamy in champagne light 

golden-god’s sparkle fills
chalices roused and
rouged as poppies
hail dawn with
unfurled 
whorls


Susan Ashley
August 16, 2021


~ First...

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Chill breath of autumn
Sears the poppy scarlet red,
On his memory'd cenotaph.

Tears trickle in the furrowed
Faces of young comrades
.....now long dead...

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My heart returns to you like spring
Awakening with April rain
As pale petals tenderly cling
To promises of daylight's gain

I turn to you like seasons do
Dewy and...

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Dear Budding Poet,

Modern poetry is a mix of new and old with modern styles created by bending or even breaking the rules of old forms...

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This is my last confession; there will be no more.

I am impercipient and slow from last night's sleeping pill,
wincing away from the harshness of day.
Kitchen...

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Springtime rain brings fresh array 
of flowers east to west.
The Rockies’ red and purple tufts
of mountain pride are best. 
And mats of foliage named moss...

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In churned up soil the poppy rose 
On top of death, still steadily grows 
And in our minds we see the crosses 
That lie in...

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Ah, the fortitude of a circle
the circular wisdom 
of  spring to summer  fall to winter  
the spinning wheel’s twist of threads -
at...

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Oh! What a journey
We have walked through fields of gold
And stood beneath starry nights

Moon dust in our eyes
specks still  glowing on our tongues
And in...

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I always feel hungry
yet dare not complain
it may set a precedent,
believing I am the fodder
the factory keeps feeding on my
infinite illusions.
The Radio talkback show tells...

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