Best Primrose Poems
In the valley
of violin vines,
when the saffron sun ascends,
and crooning clouds
drift in mulberry cadence,
I let my quivering quill harmonize
mystical moonbeams
splattered across
hushed horizons~
with sparkling strings
of stardust,
as ink paints a
panorama of primrose promises,
from spring scented
sonatas scattered
in symphonic hues
of sangria syllables,
thawing
frost-clutched fauna,
while butterflies flutter
amongst floating florals,
depicting whispers
of my hyacinth heartbeat.
But something about
the way sakura
blossoms fall like rain,
traces picturesque
lines of my
lyrical confessions,
composed like
a chromatic chorus,
that savors
kismet kisses,
of a love woven
with
twinkling
tendrils in
tangerine twilight,
and when you
return like
pirouetting jasmines,
I feel the
ambrosial aura
of Persephone
emerge from
the darkest
caves of Hades,
bringing back
empyrean euphoria,
and here I let
nature unfurl
a choir of
singing sunflowers
and waltzing wisterias,
performing
classical serenades,
amidst trumpet trees
sprouting ivory petals,
in dulcet idioms,
veiling toxic tales.
But today,
as rays of gold
adorn my skyline,
I think of tender truth
transcribed in
theatrical tunes,
like
zenith of zealous zephyr
eternally rippling
blue rose breeze
across Monet’s
balmy meadow.
I wanna be
the mild fragrance
of an evening primrose
gentle and sweet
beneath your sheet
Cluster of petals
which bloom
pink blossoms
to wither softly
into your sleep
Tell me...
What is the colour
of your night ?
Do you need me
by your side?
Let your window
slightly open
Call the wind
to breeze me in
Let your candle
slowly burning
Feel me swaying
deep within
Tell me...
What is the colour
of your night?
Do you need me
by your side?
Don't be lonesome
Don't feel blue
I will always
come to you
Perfumed scent
wafting your way
till stars birth
first dew of day
And when the sun
sets once again
its last flame
upon the stream
I slip slowly
'neath your pillowcase
Evening primrose
in your dream
Feel gaiety ...
the energy
Rest a little ...
watch and listen
Follow the path
a cradle ...
of flowers ...
Oh my ...
Primrose Crown
The old table
with injuries
and weaknesses
invites to dinner ...
The finest porcelain
beautiful crystal glass
kissed by your lips
Oh my ...
Primrose Beads
Not alone ...
the dear buds ...
fullness to women's skin
fertility ...
harmony ...
uncovered ...
emotional experiences
Oh my ...
Primrose Jewel
01/02 - 2020
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Pick A Title, Vol 13 - Lyric - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
3. Down The Primrose Path
4th place in the contest
Down the Primrose Path
Beautiful and pleasant summer evening
away from the madness among the yawing
breath of brilliant sunset. Slow ease moving
lilac mood of twilight, welcomes me dreaming.
Lost in my steps, neglecting to listen to
my inner wisdom, knowing the view.
I had walked through mingling hues of colour and fragrance
of the sprawling botanical gardens, before in silence.
Under a shaded distance, on a wooden bench, I had sat
and watched people interactions, it got to be a habit.
A bit insane forgetting the through unseen
hush whirs. It flutters its looks among green
ivy's deepest hollow, while lamppost light
cast shadows in darken absence, till morning light.
To be lost in steps, led down through a primrose
path clutch, to many unspoken crimes among those
that have happened within, not one knows.
2/6/2020
Pick A Title, Vol 13 - Lyric - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
3. Down The Primrose Path
Sway my heart in your reveling sight
Waltz your way in the dream of night
But beware of the dancing neon signs
What lures you in is the curse of plight
There’s a crafty face on devil’s door
And a mighty beast is howling a roar
There’s happy smile on clamor of yore
And a disguise waiting to settle a score
Some that glitter aren’t gemstones
Some that sparkle are spurious clones
Look closer for their impish tone
Don’t get fooled by the looks alone
When you’re thirsty looking for water
Don’t be duped by the optical illusion
As you totter in the midst of a desert
A mirage will never quench your thirst
Pleasure’s written on the bottle of gin
Drink a little and you will happily grin
But your head will spin if you dip in sin
Down the primrose path you’ll never win
There’s a crafty face on devil’s door
And a mighty beast is howling a roar
There’s happy smile on clamor of yore
And a disguise waiting to settle a score
February 5, 2020
Placed 1st: Pick a title, vol. 13, lyric poetry contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Down the primrose path
Placed 3rd: Strand select L contest by Brian Strand
hampstead and the city
- as if sketched on
primed white canvas
appeared from on that bench
divorced from time
and standing still.
a london without colour
- ashen, silent, lying distant
seemed subdued beneath
the heat haze
hanging down
from primrose hill.
I wanna be the mild fragrance of an evening primrose
gentle and sweet beneath your sheets
Cluster of petals which bloom pink blossoms
to wither softly into your sleep
Tell me...What is the colour of your night
Do you need me by your side?
Leave your window slightly open
Call the wind to breeze me in
Leave your candle slowly burning
Feel me swaying deep within
Tell me ..What is the colour of your night
Do you need me by your side?
Don't be lonesome,Don't feel blue
I will always come to you
Perfumed scents I'll waft your way
till stars birth first dew of day
And when the sun sets once-again
its last flame upon the stream
I slip slowly 'neath your pillowcase
And breathe sweetness in your dream.
When stillness lies unbroken
my heart dreams of timeless peace.
My poems do not reckon
or discern that peace may cease.
With a heavy hand moonlight draws
for me pictures of placid accord.
New days will dawn and bring heartbreak;
a poet's heart is tied to time's cord.
I'll watch the summer sky explode without
concern for what the near future holds,
no awareness of ulterior schemes.
I've not been told of moral blindfolds.
Poised recklessly, each frame of
my dream world these next few weeks
is about to be revealed
as truth speaks of rogue techniques.
February 5, 2020
Sponsor Kai Michael Neumann
Contest Name The Poet's Hands Are Tied
Deadline: Friday, July 2, 2021
Edward Ibeh: Pick A Title, Vol 13 - Lyric - Poetry
3. Down the Primrose Path
Life, ne'er the primrose path of dalliance
for me (and in league with this shady world),
like the accused who has no innocence,
fleeced me as my tribulations unfurled;
deprived and in disgrace with Fortune's eyes,
with all hope lost and none at all to care,
I implored heaven with my bootless cries,
and cursed my fate, crying to God in prayer,—
Who saw my afflictions and gave me rest
at last, as well as respite and reprieve:
all these blessings to which I can attest
that spring from His grace (in which I believe).
Tho' life's “a thief” and I was “his victim,”
God was there to “arrest and convict him!”
They say this path is dangerous -
but oh, how beautiful it seems,
with dew-kissed flowers strewn about -
reflections of my sweetest dreams.
I think I took this path before,
and though it brought me pain,
such wonderment I there beheld.
Perhaps I'll go down it again.
Oh, should I go? The other paths
show not such lovely flowers.
And I have been down quite a few
meandering for hours and hours.
I see so many ways to go,
but none can so entice
like the path of primroses,
so sweet - but oh, so high the price!
Jan. 30, 2020
title chosen: #3: Down the Primrose Path
for Edward Ibeh's 'Pick A Title, Vol 13 - Lyric -' Contest
Midnight solstice sway
Cream shade ballasting night, day
Darkness eclipses
A mount of spring with a long gentle swell
Adorned in morning freshness is upon thee
On this green heath verdant primrose spread
The early blooms of heaven slumber in mist
A slight gale drives the white vapors away
Revealing sudden gleaming opening vista’s
Of blossomed hedges, now seen, now lost
They seem as moving pictures passing by
Silence abounds except on top of the swell
Stirring by passing gusts gnarled aged trees
There rustling tops utter voices not known
Like spirits in a dream on the hill of spring
Loved in their loneliness by all that do love
Flowers dressed, colored glories to behold
Love blossomed in the darkest night
Morn's gilding beams to spite
Night Primrose preened by tender blight
Sphinx moth soft tips caress; sugary nectar slight
Perfumed aroma doth prating, intoxicated courtier incite
Glazed petals with dewy fans stream delight
Golden cup a succoring bosom from which passions alight
Delicate, cream veil eclipses pallid, stolid moonlight
With availing breeze your dreamy parasol on Cupid's wings takes flight
A sapling restrained from its dirt prison
Wanting to sail across the vast seas
Yearning for liberation
Rain brew in the mighty sky
The little sapling endured valiantly
The sporadic growth of the sapling now on tie
Tempest devoured by the radiant sun
Absorbing nutrients from the sun’s jubilance
The days till maturity became none
The petals of the primrose began to blossom
A majestic scent pervaded the boundless air
The options veered from lean to awesome
Spain, Germany, Belgium, and France
Foreign mountains, towers, and customs
Now in sight from the blossom dance
You won't lead me down the primrose path
I refuse to be your benighted minion
So shove your beautifully woven tapestry of lies
You won't lead me down the primrose path
'Tis an aesthetically looking road to perdition
God is the way; the route to the highest of highs
You won't lead me down the primrose path
I refuse to be your benighted minion
Date written and posted: 11/25/2018