Best Small White Poems
I speak my thoughts with gentleness
The things I need to say with care
Thoughts held in my hands, gone through my fingers,
balanced on my fingertips...
... sent to my lips.
I speak my words with thoughtfulness
from my faltering tongue
The air swaying rippling with
meaningful sound
I speak my words out loud, they land
where I want them to bloom
Sometimes as small white daisies
Other times as beautiful blue thistles
or roses.
I watch them grow, my eyes follow their
independent will and stubbornness
With pride I stretch my hands
to pick them and arrange...
They grew on me.
***
September 21, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
Categories:
small white, inspirational, metaphor, words,
Form:
Free verse
I'm sitting on the floor
I'm crying so much more
trying to erase this pain
trying to forget your face
sitting here with the blade in my hand
running so slow blood dripping down
in a deep red color
flowing freely the way i want to feel
I'm sitting on the floor
holding my hand out
I'm holding a bottle
a bottle filled with pills
I'm crying so hard
the pain is unbearable
I'm feeling so weak
I'm sitting here on this floor
holding a blade
crying like crazy
trying to take this pain away
I'm trying my best trying to fight
my eyelids feel heavy
my door is so far
the whispered yells to far
falling deep in to sleep
deep..deep..deep..deep
I'm laying on a bed
I'm so confused
where am i?
my throat feels sore
my body screams in pain
I'm looking around
I'm in a small white room
i try to move,
my hands are stuck
i try to get up
i feel restraints
what happened to me?
I'm laying on a bed
trying to get up
my head hurts
a nurse is here
a shot is administered
i drift to sleep
I'm in the psych ward
why am i here?
I'm lying on a bed
laying so still
my wrists hurts to no end
I'm crying out loud
screaming and cussing
my body hurts
i can't remember
all i remember are my bloody wrists
and a bottle of pills
all i remember is the pain i was in.....
Categories:
small white, abuse, boyfriend, bullying, depression,
Form:
Feeling nostalgic, I went back home
To a house on Memory Lane
A sentimental trip, through the years that have flown
To a three bedroom, small white, wood frame
Where memories were built on a GI loan
And little boys were forged into young men
Where the little boy in me, is still running free
Through cotton fields up to his chin
The old house was still standing in some disrepair
The gravel roads had all been paved
'neath the cottonwood tree, my daydreams were still there
With the initials my puppy love engraved
There was no father or mother, no sister or brother
No neighbors I used to call friend
No games to be played, no gold to discover
Only memories of way back when
But the love we shared, I saw everywhere
In the garden, in the flowers and the trees
And the life lessons I learned from the spills and the dares
Gave me warmth in the cool winter breeze`
Then sitting in the swing where I first learned to fly
I heard the whistle of the afternoon train
So I packed up my thoughts, said my final goodbye
To the house on Memory Lane.
by Daniel Turner
Categories:
small white, memory, sad,
Form:
Rhyme
Do you give or do you grab?
Do you listen carefully
or do you gab and gab?.
Giving doesn’t always have to do
with buying gifts. You must listen too.
Giving time to others will help to keep
worries off your mind.
Rotate consciousness into being kind!
Do you truly love? Or is your love a lust?
Do you give yourself completely?
Surrendering is a must.
Do you feel you need control
of those you call your kin?
If righteous indignation is called for,
temper it with patience and compassion.
Let the love of Jesus in.
Do you lie more than you should
beyond the small white lie?.
Is it hard for you to tell the truth?
Lies can lead to bigger lies.
Being forthright leads to being wise.
In telling what you really feel,
you practice removing your disguise.
Nothing is so freeing as being real.
Be aware that even your doing all these things,
there are people still who will not care.
There are folks who sadly have not learned
the value of giving love and truth,
and they have not learned how to be fair.
Do not let them bother you. Simply know
that peace and unity in this world can come
when rotating consciousness you can learn to share.
Nov. 4, 2022
for Unseeking Seeker's Rotate Consciousness Polarity Poetry Contest
Categories:
small white, life,
Form:
Rhyme
Azalea blooms show their pink blaze
Begonias in beds amaze
Cornflowers grow in blue delight
Daffodil debuts still thrill our sight
Eastern Redbud, a bright pink splash
Forsythia gold hides winter's ash
Gardenia, soft with creamy hues
Hyacinth paints with varied blues
Irises rise in purple duds
Jasmine vines show pastel buds
Kafir Lilies, a border bloom
Lilacs share their sweet perfume
Magnolias are pink or white
Neillia clusters in rose delight
Orchids grow with pale soft hues
Pansies, purple with darkest blues
Quince's blossoms of pink delight
Red Chokeberry blooms in rose or white
Snowdrops dangle small white gems
Tea Tree Camellias sleep on stems
Ursinia shows a fiery glow
Viburnum's spread creates a show
Wax Flowers paint a pastel scene
Xylobium...an Orchid dream
Yellow Anemones' full beds bring
Zinnias add their splash to Spring
Categories:
small white, flower, spring, tribute,
Form:
Abecedarian
All is well
Cocooned within.
Just the steady beat,beat,beat
And gentle familiar sounds.
Comforting,warm,so safe.
Unease-noise-confusion.
(Pushing,pushing)
Panic,unfamiliar,
What is happening?
(Pushing,pushing)
The beat now throbbing,pounding.
Faster,faster
And comes-the light, the light.
So this is LIFE!
(Blue skies,sunshine)
A child's laughter,
A mother's arms
And a loved one's kiss.
This is life.
Celebration, happiness.
Families united,
Friends together
And the gift of sharing.
This is life.-
(Yet dark skies.chaos)
Nature's beautiful face
Twisted in rage against the earth.
And man -
Bloody,cruel,insensitive.
So many acts of hurt
And tumultuous violence.
One to the other.
This is life.
The addict on a bed of filth.
The habitual drunk staggering to oblivion.
Cries from diseased bodies
Tormented by pain.
And a small white coffin
Laid gently in the ground.
This is life.
Learning,growing.
Stumbling-yet learning,growing.
Struggling,hurting-yet learning,
With each uncertain breath
A heart growing.
Learning-love revealed
Within each and in the world.
THIS IS LIFE.
Tears of pain,tears of joy,tragedy,comedy.
Insanity,absolutely ludicrous.
Mysterious,awesome,
Compelling,thrilling.
Thriving,striving.
And having the will to live.
This is life.
All too soon comes weariness.
Old bones aching.
Mumbling,bewilderment,forgetting.
Time to let go
And to return to the stillness.
Mist -everything fading,
(Cold,so cold) all going.
No sight.no taste, no smell.
No feeling, just silence
And yet-the light.
Categories:
small white, life
Form:
Free verse
Radiant are the words
that painted your existance
Shinning are the details
swept with lyrical rhymes
Brightly sewn were intentions
that bless us day and night
A tapestry of beauty
in heart shapes and designs
A glowing presence expressing love
made of it's own light
Hopes that peddle effortlessly
that never wains or tires
Happy and content
circleing it's beautiful fire
Sparks sparkling words of care
Rainbow colours here and there
Stars that twinkle in the night
small white unageable lights
That lights above the perfect night
Just before the perfect day
I like the way
you decorated my heart
I really can't discribe
this kind of art
Colours are made to
dazzle the eyes
But what you've given
also pleases the blind
Rhyme and rythem
do not account for the deaf
But lives feel those
certian depths
I stand in awe
of your beautiful delights
Close my eyes
and say good night
Categories:
small white, angel, april,
Form:
Who promised you life would be easy?
Who whispered this excuse?
How can pain be an addition to the life experience?
Answers provided are inadequate to the task.
Who will sit with you and hold you in the unknown?
In the silence of the morning,
I listen for the sound of your heartbeat.
I reach for you and trace the line of your face.
I smell the fragrance of your skin.
I envy the sun as it kisses the small of your back.
I rest in the music of your breath, your slow awakening!
How long have you felt this way?
Why have you not come to me?
I am here, I am within you and without.
Loneliness and fear need not compel.
For you are lifted on whispers of thought!
I wish to be justified
"You are justified from the foundations of the Earth,
to the moment of the quiet walk.
Listen to the wind carry your name.
Feel the music fill your innermost being.
As the song builds to the innermost surprise!"
What is Heaven?
Is it the peace that resides between heart beats?
Is the smallness of it large enough to contain God's Essence?
When does it begin?
Why is it so hard to start?
The small white dog trembles,
as the river runs wild!
Flys dance above the water.
"Go" I say releasing you into the water.
Feeling the depth of love,
as it covers the surface of you.
A compilation poem written by Norm Millross, Lesley-Anne Evans and Richard Lamoureux.
This was six separate pieces organized into one piece. We each alternated line by line.
Norm and Lesley-Anne are fellow poets here In Kelowna British Columbia.
Categories:
small white, beauty, courage, desire,
Form:
Free verse
An old stone cottage stands on the seafront
Abandoned and alone
Windows covered in sea salt and cobwebs
Its history and story unknown
A small white cottage with good bones
That has weathered many a storm
Now unloved and neglected
Still stands steadfast ,proud, yet sadly forlorn
A large stone fireplace graces the front room
Blackened by the years that have withstood the test of time
Giving warmth and comfort to many a soul
Comfort so sublime
I wonder who resided here
Was it a happy home
Was it alive , full of love and laughter
Or harbouring sadness and secrets unknown
I would love to sit inside this cottage
Light the fire and share a cup of tea
So the cottage could tell me its story
Of life as it used to be
A story perhaps of long lost secrets
One of intrigue and mystery
Or maybe just a simple tale
Of a loving family
In appreciation and gratitude for story told
A cuddle it would be
I would visit time and again for the warmth of its fire
And to share another cup of tea!
Categories:
small white, history, old, sea, time,
Form:
Rhyme
Not Every Day is Perfect
I took my pad to the park today.
I wanted to find an idea for a book.
I was blocked…you know… stuck.
I walked outside, and looked up into the sky.
The clouds threatened rain.
I had no umbrella, but a man in a clown suit presented me one…
immediately.
I took it, and walked on.
Down the brick paved golden street,
and turned just to the right, the bus stop on ahead.
The shuttle to Mars left five minute ago, so I hopped the train to Texas.
We arrived early for lunch with the king.
As I sat with his highness, I whipped out my pad intently...
No!
Still no ideas.
I left from there as the flamingoes were dancing and getting out of hand.
I decided to take a stagecoach to the florist shop as it would help my mood.
The soup was chicken, with small white rice, shapes of animals and crackers.
Still nothing to write about.
The day was getting late. I had to go back home.
A roller skate, a rickshaw and two hot air balloons…
The darkness came early, on my sunshine day,
But I am very happy, as my package arrived.
I have new pencils, from far away.
I will take them for a walk, instead of my pen.
Tomorrow I will try again.
Categories:
small white, hello, homework, mountains, mystery,
Form:
Narrative
Light snow hushes the drab, winter sky
as she places a small white rose upon
the gravestone of her innocent one
lost in the early bloom of dawn.
A singular chirping song resounds
within drooping arms of frozen trees
she spies a sprightly cardinal bird
flitting like a red ribbon in the breeze.
Her silent tears fall, like white petals spun
her grief is laid bare by the rose’s thorns
when wings of a pure red cardinal come
to carry her rose away towards the sun.
1/7/2023
Categories:
small white, bird, flower, grief,
Form:
Rhyme
"She loves me, she loves me not”
“She loves me, she loves me not”
Petal by small white petal I ask
of this delicate bloom I now hold in my hand
Yellow face peering up at me as if it wants to answer
in only a way that will make me happy
“She loves me, she loves me not”
But does it know the answer I seek,
for I do want her to love me, like she loves the flowers,
the ocean and sipping tea by twilight music
filling the tree lined silhouettes with melodies of enchantment
“She loves me, she loves me not”
Two more petals fall to the ground,
creating elongated oval patterns about my feet
like ivory snow flakes flittering in the sun
staring up at me with questions of their own
“She loves me, she loves me not”
Maybe I will whisper my desires,
allowing them to flow on the wind,
absorbed by nature, dispersed upon the beauty
in hopes this earthly decoration might understand
“She loves me, she loves me not”
As nature offers her wonders, she too brings them
In perfectly presented symmetrical fashion
for I see there are only four petals remaining,
the count stays even
“She loves me, she loves me not”
Oh poor flower, shedding petals like tears
do they flood your core as they do my heart
fear not my petite friend, for I stand in a field
of your brothers and sisters
“She loves me, she loves me not”
I shall pick another tender bloom
to follow my quest again,
though unlike nature, I have no rules to follow
and I shall begin this time with
“She loves me not, she loves me”
Categories:
small white, flower, love,
Form:
Free verse
Aloha Weeps
Aloha weeps
In waves of grief
Pounding on a windswept beach
To grieve the loss of gracious footsteps
That gently walked upon its sand
Where the waves that tickled her heart
Now carry a plumeria lei
Beyond the horizon.
Pele mourns
Her adopted child
Whose fiery imagination
Flowed like lava in poetry
To build new lands of inspiration
Child, laughing in pikaki’s fragrant garden,
Slips quietly from breath’s bonds
Past the islands’ shores.
Trade winds grieve
Murmuring her name
Steadfast
In gossamer hues
Of orchids and hibiscus,
Hawaii’s pua aloalo,
So they remember to give
Breath to her words
Gliding over rolling surf
And rustling palms.
Rainbows cry
Reach out to touch
Her giving servant heart,
To touch her beauty,
To find her na'u garden empty
With only her Aloha scent
Lingering
Among the ilima of Oahu
As she soars on rainbow wings
Into friendly skies again.
The tropic sun laments
In a ring
Of fiery tears
In secret waterfalls
Among the blue awapuhi – trails of naupaka
And coral reefs
That guard tropical beauty
When tides recede
To hear the conch shell call her home.
Aloha Hawaiian Rose.
Mahalo nui loa, ka’u hoaaloha! Thank you so much my friend.
God be with you! ke Akua pu.
On the passing of Connie Marcum Wong!
Poet extraordinaire! Servant Heart! Faithful friend! Beautiful flower in Hawaii’s garden.
Constance means steadfast.
9-16-22
Thank you William, Hilo Poet, for teaching me the beauty of the Hawaiian language. I truly hope I have written it correctly to honor this beautiful language.
Awapuhi is a beautiful blue flower native to Hawaii.
Ilima is the flower of the island of Oahu
Naupaka is a small white, fragrant flower of Hawaiian legend
Na’u is the Hawaiian, fragrant gardenia
Pua aloalo is the Hibiscus – state flower of Hawaii
Categories:
small white, flower, friend,
Form:
Free verse
The White Pumpkin
A farmer tends his field
Vines grow and wrap around each other
Giant white flowers bloom in the heat of summer
Butterflies and bees dance from flower to flower
Spreading the pollen from male to female
Inseminating to create the next generation
Weeks later the children arrive
They laugh and giggle as they run among the orange pumpkins
Each one takes their favorite home for carving or pie
One pumpkin is born small, oddly shaped with a white skin
It sits alone by the wooden fence as the rest are taken
The day before Halloween one child comes for a visit
Out of the dozens of pumpkins still waiting the child chose the small white one
His parents point out all the beauty around him
The child doesn’t change his mind or his heart
He spoke of the one he wanted
“This one is like me,” he said as he lifted it into his wheelchair
That was all that had to be said
The white pumpkin was loved by a little boy
A little boy who knew what it was like to be different
He knew what it was like to be loved
And now, so did that small, oddly shaped pumpkin with a white skin
Categories:
small white, childhood, friendship, sad, uplifting,
Form:
Free verse
Some said they lost all hope;
Some did, you saw it in their eyes:
That little light
That shines so bright
Became dull and disappeared.
Some became bitter, some wise,
Some couldn't cope.
That small white
Flicker, once bright,
Slowly went out.
So often that is what I see
In eyes, even on TV,
and I recognise,
For I was there.
I was where
I did despise
What back then became of me.
With everything taken away,
Including your humanity,
And nothing remains
But empty shell,
Sheer hell.
And too tired for complaints.
This terrible insanity
Of war, how some people play
With others as if simple pawns
On a chess board.
With hands high,
To move at will.
Freezing chill...
I still have no reply,
And have no vocal chords
Left to speak up... When will it dawn
On them we're human entities!
Where oh where is my identity...
Categories:
small white, anger, anxiety, bereavement, heartbroken,
Form:
Rhyme