Best Stemless Poems
Often wondering is it a steak upon Our Plates that is important...
Perhaps a Hot-dog instead and more Money for a healing deportment.
To feed a Child that is suffering or very ill and extremely sick.
We ask often comfortably what often makes the wealthy tick?
As We read on The Internet that there are Children out there just wanting Bread.
The Children eating grass is in an Article that was just as this is read...
My Heart torn open,wrenched,concerned and burning with anguish inside.
My Own Home stemless, poor, and uncomfortably We reside...
Wishing We could just reach threw a T.V. Set to give a helping hand...
Just to pass Our Dinner to a child in a taunted hemmed Land.
My passion so large, words so strong, and My Pocket very small.
Never standing in the right position in Life to answer as Children call.
There are Children in Our World that are just eating grass.
Under seemly so by My feelings of disrepair as I pass My Own grasp...
This stench of Many Self willed that preform as Our stanza has not surpassed.
To reach for You now is more then an unbearable weep to comprehend.
A World filling up with Starvation and Our Children in it left to descend.
To reach for You now is an unbearable decision not yet made.
The Children Eating Grass just wore Me thin and They paid.
Sometime wishing I could just rob and empty an entire vault.
That Decision would cost Me greatly so I resort to prayer that will never fault.
To Be trusted with just This Message where I sit and grieve.
When Encounters of Love yet to occur and never to beckon Evil that is deceived.
By Charlene L.Wilcox 09-29-2014
BUTTERFLIES OF BEAUTY
Silent songful wanderer, soaring free on the sky
conquering, unafraid to the golden rays of the sun,
fluttering either slow or fast, their colors show
like stemless flying flowers: red, orange, browns
unto gardens, rainforest, fields and prairie lands
off they are! From early morning until the night,
their quiet optimism: a lighthouse to any hopeful
delicate in beauty emerging from chrysalis womb.
Standing in each tooth-tip spot, they're like ballerinas
dancing and pausing as they do in lows and highs:
kissing blossoms curves for goods - a peaceful move
freezing and feeding effortless some onlookers eyes.
Seduced fingers reached to touch, glad most are missed.
Free. The majestic monarch is flying again, high. HIGH!
Such a natural canvass painted to every stop and flight,
beguiling more dreamers today, tomorrow and beyond...
______________________________________________________
Poetry Contest: BUTTERFLIES OF BEAUTY
***1st Place***
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose
Written January 10, 2016 @ 11:27 am
Floriography
Allamanda in April slowly open its trumpets around posts that look like
Buttercups of honey for bees to dive in to replenish their striped bellies
Crocus's yellow stigmas that flavour our food are a blessing by Hermes, but
Dead Nettle is hardly so dead with her fuschia coloured flowers on tall stalks
Early Star Of Bethlehem awaits for snow to melt and to be reborn to bless
Freesias that innocently rest atop wedding cakes with their snowy icing buds as
Glory Lily with reflexed pink petals look like a turkish cap in a showstopper
Hyacinth clusters ease tension while boasting off its colourful array of petals
Irises' three petals looking heavenwards and one downwards links us to gods
Jasmine's pristine beauty rests in my bun, leaving a trail of fragrance in morns
Knife Acacia's drooping yellow clusters add beauty to xeriscape landscaping
Larkspur's purple petals are like curtains displaying an open light heart while
Mountain Laurel in translucent white with pink accents are humbled before
Narcissus smiling from above the rockery at its reflected beauty in the pond below
Orchids, rare and royal, flourish in moss and add grandeur to pinned coats
Portulaca overhangs my flower pots on boundary walls in appeasing hues
Queen of nights likens to a creamy lotus on a cactus, blooms but once annually
Red Hot Poker's stand like tall red candies in clusters attracting children
Spring Snowflakes are reversed scalloped white cups dangling with breeze
Teddy dahlias in naughty bonniness wear the brightest sunny hoods
Ursinia fields wave in the spring breeze like floating islands in an orange sea
Virginia Bluebells ring in the spring, chiming in nooks till silenced by the rains
Wake Robin is stemless and sits on leaves with its fetid aroma to attract flies
Xeranthemum is purpled in royalty to favour love and changes its owner's life
Yellow Star of Bethlehem grows wildest in landscapes, yet aspiring to help
Zinnia blossom as space-flower in its debut aboard the NASA space station
April 26, 2016
For Shadow Hamilton
Abecedarian
I know you would come to my poem
Like a tree, being fully clothed
With spades and measuring lines
To dig for roots in syllables of mine
Unearthing the buttress to shine.
Making a mess of the ground is how
You prove the tree where beauty grows.
I have watched you with it a full hour
O what a regular baby you are
Banging for its entrails like a toy
Shredding it limb by limb and making
Sure it never bear fruit differently
After you are done. I am enjoying
You enjoying the violence done to it.
Some came here tenderly before
To pick its bloosoms as gifts for love
Or fragrance the tomb of death
Where petals wither stemless and poor
Dissected from the discourse of my life.
You must never pick a flower
Let it die upon the stem, and seed from
There, the earth with poems again.
I come to you like a lover, a bringer
And not a taker of others joy
Sniffing your body on its stem
Lissom on the cool curves of wind
I come to you naked to feel
Your soft kisses of dew on my skin
To let your balmy aroma heal
My sensibilities broken like a kite.
We are two poems, O let us speak
Aloud the taste of words upon the tongue
And feel the magic of meaning swell
Beyond the verbs of what we seek.
Let us expose our breast of colors
Upon the milk of thirsty eyes
Let us give the old traditionalist shivers
And fondle only with our surprise.
My silent serene soul softly craves your candles of crystalline calm.
Your gallant greens of golden glow gently beam with bumbles, bashing blissful thoughts in a thundering whisper.
Our chemistry and connection is madly enchanted in ethereal crimson certainty of nectar's new dawn.
I want to own the oceans and you like I hold my butterflies and beliefs.
Rumple my radiant lips on silhouette sheets of your secret shoulder yard, leaving amaranth art of kisses on your lavender chest.
Letting your spikes of spices chase me into a search of serenity.
You are my wind in the wild storm.
The whisperer, wanderer in my mystical melodies.
You are the tempting thoughts in my tempestuous tides, thrilling the turbulent twilight of my heavenly heart.
The mesmerizing midnight memories in the infinite brain of my independent heart.
I'm nightfall without your luminous laughter.
I'm dateless without your conducive calendar of pink promises.
I'm the death of a wasteful war and torn tears from the endless screams.
Be the pondering puzzles of my relentless reasoning.
The savoury solitude in my sour soul.
The hibiscus honey and roasted peanuts in my poetic pantry.
My rustling reckless reflection in muttered excuses.
And I'll be your rainbow, your Rosa Juliet.
Your chocolate cosmos. Your scout for love in the jungle of jasmine spring.
I have fondly found fleeting fragrances of happiness from the ryhming rheum in your eyes. It is daring densely, hallucinating hazardously, making me stare still till I blindly bleed in haphazard hues.
Till eternity my love, your secret silence is the riff in every song. It is the splash of every sound. The hair on my stirred skin. The pulchritudinous phases of pain in astrological agony.
Stand, stand my sublime king so thou shalt see the height of my love for thee.
Listen, listen my charming prince so you shall hear my painting in every voice.
So you can feel the breathless bath of the present and the tickle in the tapestry of our voiceless vows, viciously channeled through the thighs of our bond and the sync of your seductive grasp.
So I can smell the wind of your hands slowly stroking my sensitive skin and the attention of my hairs saluting your stemless grasps.
My soul critically craves you my workshop and I your tools.
Her stemless flower hovering in space.
His trippy peace-love sycophantic words.
Her psychedelic petals frown in vase.
She-astronaut claims hippieness — cuts cord.
11/4/2018
Early on, ere the grassy knoll gathers momentum
huddled shivering against the ground, stemless tops
of yellow dot the lawns of the old neighborhood, signaling
winter's demise without shouting Spring too loudly...
In a wink or a blink of an eye, these wild buttons
mushroom, spreading far and wide, usurping
the green mantle of my lawn, stems now shooting forth
twisting and turning at jagged angles, bizarrely...
at times, wild undergrowth barging into a (civilized) urban plot
when poof! their signature yellow smiles vanish, dispersed into
puff balls, architectural marvels, wind-scattered seeds, ubiquitous
but not before my inner child picks out a lovely bouquet
for my saintly mother
April 07, 2019
Entry in DANDELIONS contest
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
He all of a sudden experiences a new psychosis,
As he solemnly stands in the sunset in his grieving process,
Tossing onto her grave a thousand stemless red roses.
drinking wine in my new stemless
less is more
more or less
the stem that is
swim in the stemless
with
wine turned to water
exception: celebration
A stemless blueberry
Eyes the slope of the bowl
Dodges the hurried spoon
A tidal flow of milk
Frustrates his attempts
Catching a wave
He rides its curl
Rolls onto the tabletop
Milky fingers clutch at it
A stalking spoon
Flips it into the air
A moment of freedom
The warmth of a dog’s tongue
The discarded dead find an unused beauty,
an afterlife that curls, re births,
tunnels and reshapes -
a mulching of a former season's thin bones.
Mortality buds from an emptiness
long before the seed encloses it,
a mottled mold unwinds death to life.
See the genetics of the unseen,
see the shedding and replenishing,
a branching polymorphic architecture
that constantly furrows and gardens
the grave.
A self-determined choreography
of stemless minds, the unseen labor
before the upsurge, before the foundation
and the root.