Best Watercress Poems
Ajuga, will be a must, a blue beauty that blows in the wind.
Bellflowers, charming and faithful and lovely, of course I must have
Candy Tufts from gardens of long gone, enchanting. And mother's favourite,
Daylilies, in a rainbow of colors, Delphinium and Daffodils also, so dramatic.
Evening Primrose along the fence will create quite a stir, and on the porch
False Watercress spilling out of a container, and then old dependable,
Geraniums and Glory In The Snow, I love my dreamy dream of spring flowers.
Hyacinths, scented jewels of color sparkle in my garden, along with
Iris Reticulata, an early spring treasure, it will be a wonderful place.
Jacob's Ladder, with blue-purple blooms, mingle with Johnny-Jump-Ups.
Kalmia Latifolia, pure white blooms, related to the laurel family.
Lily-of-the Valley, so sweet and fragrant, how could I forget you and,
Meadow Rue, a lavender wave in the wind, and anther old dependable,
Nasturium, a gardeners dream and it is also edible. Oh my list is long!
Oriental Poppy, was there ever a more heavenly gift from God, except maybe
Pasque Flower, unfolding from beneath the snow, and those Pansies and Petunias!
Queen Anne's Lace, so pretty is her lacework, did you know ishe is a wild carrot?
Rosemary, with a scented pretty flower, like dew in the morning is a must, as is
Sage, that billowy haze of lavender, pushing away the rainbow Snapdragons.
Thrift, delightful vintage touch to my rock garden in the shade, sweet the tulips too.
Umbrella Magnolia growing in the garden corner, with creamy white blooms, and
Vinca Periwinkle with lovely blue flowers, friends to Violet and Viola.
Wall Flowers, who love the sun, drooping with snow cap jewels, oh over there
Xenia's blooming in marine colors, so unique. And here a childhood love,
Yellow Anemone, aka Buttercup, who does not love Buttercup?
Zinnia, friend of Sunflower, elegant and colorful, nods. Must this dream end!
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April 13, 2016
Poetry/Abecedarian/In My "Dreamy" Spring Garden
Copyright Protected, ID 16-777-564-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Grasshoppers and katydids
Cactus, growing in the sand
Palm trees near the ocean
May-apples in the woodland
Parrots squawking in the jungle
Moss creeping over rotten logs
Luscious ferns filling forests
Huge dinosaurs, tiny tree frogs
Watercress and lettuce leaves
English ivy, honeysuckle vines
Grass snakes and lunar moths
Cedar, fir, spruce, and pines
Myriad grasses, filling meadows
And blanketing every lawn
Fields of corn and sugarcane
Fat caterpillars, tiny inchworms
The stem of every flower
the fat shell of every bean
Looking around, it would seem
Our Father favors the color green
There is a place I long to be….
A fervent wish......I often see
Where I can close the book, take a breath
Close my eyes….and remember……...............me....
~
Where once again….I will find myself….
my forgotten self, along the sea…
There is a beach of pure white sand
An island in a far-off strand
Where I shall walk with happy feet
Where tall palms overhead will meet
Where green and scarlet birds will fly
Beneath a golden tropic sky
There is a spring, whose waters flow
Along a creek bed cold as snow
That I shall drink with eagerness
With taste of mint and watercress
To quench a thirst that I have known
Within my very flesh and bone
I have a world in which to roam
A tree a thousand miles from home
That I have never even seen
And yet I know it's branches green
Will give me shade some happy day
Beside a lake long miles away
My wish foretells a longing fate
And so I'll bide my time and wait
~
There is a place I long to be….
Where I can close the book, take a breath
Close my eyes….and remember……
me…..
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For Contest: Island of Fantasy
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
Out in the field is a bed of chicory,
down along the ditch, wild hydrangeas grow.
Dandelions in the yard are quite tasty,
so is the duckweed by the side of the road.
Wild lettuce, lamb’s quarter, and some wild onions,
there’s watercress, fennel, grape leaves, and cherries.
We also have mallow, milkweeds, oxtails, chives,
Chanterelle mushrooms, morels, and blackberries.
Along with sassafras, raspberries, and more,
you’ll have a lunch that will make your stomach sing.
God bless all of nature’s wonderful bounty,
providing an Ozark meal fit for a king.
The ABCs of Things Green
Algae, alligator, artichoke, asparagus, aphids, Andradite,
Brussels sprouts, broccoli, Buffalo Treehopper, and beans,
Cuckoo Wasp, Cabbage, cucumber, Common Green Darner, and celery
Dog Day Cicada, Delphinium flowers diopside and dioptase, (rocks),
Emeralds, eyes, endive, evergreen trees, Emerald Ash Borer, Epidote
Ferns, Forests, Frogs, Fungus, Fork-tailed Bush Katydids, and fushite
Green Macaw, Green Jay, green onions, green bottles and boxes
Honeydew melons, Habanera chilies, and Hellebore,
Indian peas, Irish moss, Iceberg lettuce, Ivy, and Iguanas,
Jade vine, Jack-in-the-pulpit, Jade, and the Jolly Green Giant
Kale kelp, katydid, kiwi fruit, kohlrabi, and the Keel Billed Toucan’s bill,
Leeks, lemons, limes, leaf hoppers, leafy greens, and Leprechauns,
Mint jelly, Magnolia, Green Jumping Spider, Morrisonite Jasper, Malachite
New Zealand spinach, Napa cabbage, the Nile River, and Nephrite Jade,
Olives, Ostrich fern, okra, Oak leaf lettuce, olive Sparrow and onion,
Praying Mantis, peas, potato, parsnip, Peach-faced Lovebird, and Prehnite,
Question is, What green thing starts with Q? Some quarks do.
Runner-beans, Ruby-throated Hummingbird, Rose quartz, and Rue,
Saddleback Caterpillars, Southern Emerald Moths, snow peas, Serpentine
Tadpole, Turtle, Turf, Turnip greens, Turaco, and Toxic Torbenite,
Unripe bananas and Ugli fruit (both are green then orange)
Velvet Beans, Vidalia Onions, Vegetable leaves, Varovite, and Varisite
White-winged Parakeet, watercress, winter purslane, and wild leek
Xigua melon is a yummy treat
Yellow onions, Yellow-chevroned parakeet, Yellow-green vireo, and yarrow,
Zuchini is the last, but not the least of the ABC’s of Things Green.
The tea I use was born in Canada.
Holistic doctors told me of its name.
This strange concoction does a lot of good
with curing cancer its main claim to fame.
A nurse and doctor took its formula
and bettered it. Of that, there is no doubt.
The herb most vital is its sheep sorrel,
but don’t buy brands that leave this herb’s roots out.
Eight herbs for health include blessed thistle and
red clover, watercress, and wondrous kelp,
slippery elm bark and there are two more
whose roots, like sheep sorrel’s, are a big help.
Ten minutes you must boil it. Later, put
it in the fridge; it settles like brown sludge.
You have to shake it up before each use.
That sludge does not taste anything like fudge!
Online, the testimonials of those
whose cancer has been cured is not a few.
And there are other things incredible
this tea named Essiac can do for you.
Destroyer of free radicals it is -
removing toxins, healing, helping pain.
It aids digestion, even strengthens bones
and nourishes and stimulates the brain.
The list of all it does goes on and on.
So many illnesses this tea can fight.
I make enough to last for two week’s time
and drink three ounces morning, noon and night.
It’s bitter but not horrible; I’ve made
this tea my daily habit because I
am at high risk for cancer, so my friend,
in Essiac I'll trust until I die.
For the Wake up with Coffee or Tea Poetry Contest of Kim Rodrigues
NOTE: I will put info above for anyone interested in checking out this tea. Also,
I can put you in touch with people who can vouch for it. This tea was nearly made a national cure for cancer in Canada (back in the 70's) until it got shot down in their congress by the pharmaceuticals (surely we cannot go against THOSE guys!) Of course, nothing is fool proof, and they do not claim to cure all cancers all of the time; however, I intend to use this tea for prevention's sake for as long as I can afford it, which will hopefully be for a long time. For info on the best quality and price you can find, check out my link.
watercress
so green by the
mountain stream
Gently sloping emerald hills,
Old, gray fences brightened by daffodils,
Majestic trees ready to burst into bloom,
Strangers smiling and waving at me.
That’s my Kentucky.
Gleaming horses peacefully grazing
Behind white fences,
Old, leaning barns speaking of tobbacco and history,
Spring peepers voicing joy by the pond,
Young groundhogs nibbling on new growth,
That’s my Kentucky.
Forsythia blooming against an old log cabin,
Surrounded by ancient maples in red spring splendor,
And the weathered schoolhouse nearby,
boardered by a split rail fence covered in ivy.
That’s my Kentucky.
The quietly rolling Ohio river carries coal
away from these hills in barges,
While a bald eagle turns wide circles above,
Soaring on air curents invisible to me.
That’s my Kentucky.
Along the creek watercress and forget-me-nots are flourishing,
A blue heron stands statue-still on the glittering water’s egdge.
The ancient mill is nestled between the wooded hills,
where the sparkling creek works the creaky wheel.
That’s my Kentucky
Softly swaying cedar trees line roads like tin soldiers,
Decked in fresh, spring green coats,
And underneath velvety violets and glorious bright dandelions
celebrate their life with happy faces.
That’s my Kentucky.
I know
Even if I have no evidence to prove it
I know
That I was never meant to be in this world!
I find not my place here
I like it not here
I am not comfortable here
I am not at ease here
I am, like a fish out of water
I am, like an angel fallen on Earth
I am, like a plantation of watercress in the desert
I am, like a stone having been given a heart!
The very fact that I took birth here
Broke my heart
The very fact that I fell from the divine abode
Shattered me to pieces
So much that I strive still to re-assemble my broken pieces
And walk, even if I drag my feet
Trying to motivate myself
To find joy and pleasure
In a world so aimless and confusing!
A world, where living is ruled by the cruel hands of Death!
But then, I thought I found love, once
I thought I would make of love my strength
I would hold its hand
Smile
And instead of walking
I would now enjoy the ride!
For, love would be a carriage
A carriage driven by my beloved
A carriage which would allow me to sit
And enjoy the passing sceneries of the paths I had to go through!
But love was made of ego
Of vice and selfishness
Love, instead of being a strength
Love, broke my heart again!
Why, love was just like a cannon ball
Which kept striking my most sensitive spot
Love, bid me to hate my life
And yearn for the skies once more!
Pray, I have learnt the lesson
I am to be, in this world, devoid of love
For I am not to be attached to anything here
I am, to get back to where I came from
I am to climb up the celestial stairs
And reach my home, my forsaken home!
Why, the power which forced me here
Is as broken hearted without me
As I am without it!
Pray, is love not beautiful
Is love not magical
When forgiveness and submission
Plays in its arena?
Pray, the skies unveiled themselves once
And bid me to an awakening
Since then, I have come to learn of myself
And of my temporary stay here
I have to understand
Why is it that I find not my place here
Pray, I may be broken hearted
But I am in the process of being healed
And the time shall come
When the gates of the skies will open
And immerse in me
Joy, of an eternal nature!
9th February 2017
For contest: You broke my heart
The Chucko Children
roller derby brains passing into the steel mainspring
if we eat these slivers of veal paradox and watercress
the chucko children will slip beyond the sly pastures
they will forever traverse the bone rub badlands
the golden hard-on matinees, the grinding piano teeth
tearing it up, absorbing the pretenses, the stoney soufflés
the moulin rouge’ side glances dripping from the stars
now it’s clinging to your skin like jellyfish regurgitations
the simplex television people rattle chains during halftime
roller derby brains passing through the perforations
the backwash inseminations from a thousand lost nights
the dusty facades of made-up motel girls smoking fear sticks
hey you, yeah you, i got ten bucks in my pocket all for you
maybe you and me can test the winds and apply the dance
we can slip beyond the sly pastures, the stoney soufflés
the war still rages, even as the comatose night sleeps on
We can hear the chucko children tearing it up grinding it out,
bringing it on, again and again inside the steel mainspring
A for Ahira not an Apple was found at the tree of life, Sustain ate Manna;
B for Band bananas Black beans in stride;
C for Corianders and Cocoyam's flown in from the skies, sustain ate Manna;
D for Dalkon with Dandelions cries;
E for Endive in the wilderness eat, eaten with flies, sustain ate Manna;
F for Fat hen-Fiddlehead Fern, all for this I learn many people died;
G for Gherkin no more starving infants sustain ate Manna;
Sustain ate Manna;
H for Horseradish rode in from the North East;
Got a stomach-ache, must been somethin' that I didn't eat that I didn't ate.
Got no food for my family, must pray and stop being sadly...
God rains down something, I sigh, well, well, I said God rains down something...
rain down a chocolate cake or pumpkin pie;
Sustain ate manna this I got to have, yowl. . .
I for Ice plant, I spent on hot soup, sustain ate Manna
J for Jerusalem Artichokes rolls of Rice, this would b so nice so very nice
K for Kale is coming growing in bunches, sustain ate Manna;
L for Lemon grass and lentils and tree bark crunches;
M for Marjoram just to be brewed, sustain ate Manna;
N for Nettles and nuts just a few;
O for Okra and Olives oh, my, my, Oh! sustain ate Manna, sustain ate Manna;
P for peppers and palm hearts warms my inter soul;
Got a stomachs ache, must been something I didn't eat;
God no food for my family, must pray and stop being sadly;
God rains down something I sigh, a chocolate cake or pumpkin pie;
sustain ate manna this I got to have now. . .
Q for Quince and mince and mash and chew, sustain ate Manna;
R for Radish the raisins just a few;
S for Slokes are jokes no one eats them, sustain ate Manna;
T for tomatoes to Matt Toe what's the different;
U for Ulluco you be hungry when you eat, sustain ate Manna;
V for Vidalia onion sometimes is sweet;
W for Watercress, what a mess, sustain ate Manna;
X for Xemenia too!, Comes from heavens kitchen;
Y for Yamaimo and yams is the plan, sustain ate Manna;
Z for Zucchini for every woman, girl, boy and man;
Sustain ate Manna
Watercress soup with garlic
Jersey royals
Samphire with caper butter
lemon mayonnaise
Anchovy fillets
Bitter beer
Cool!
Beetroot & watercress with
marinated splelt
Broad beans & pea shoot salad
a green curry dip
lmon verbena
lavender
Tea !
The wrapes of Grath adorn the path that slammer klingks had tread
when turning spades in everglades to flosticate the dead.
Along the way the snorbels bay at freebled sprutelned
that boogeymen had once again uphove above the shed.
The buildings tall that housed the krawl are pictured carved in stone
and all that’s left is now bereft of wrapes that might atone
for scabs that feed our wrinkled breed, distraught and lying prone.
Yes, flonk replaces merpeled traces deep inside, alone.
There’s no retreat from incomplete, so durbies never dared,
but streaped instead beneath their bed with franjent fangs unbeared;
they knew the past could never last although the trumpets blared,
for doogies, stripped, were ill equipped, no longer bald or haired.
Like cavaliers with gougejent spears, well triggered for a tiff,
slank vankulures with silver spurs embussed for grimp and griff
(no question why, for “we can’t die”, the oft regleated riff);
with little fuss the blunder bus krunged glimpfly off the cliff
and fetid breet of grim defeat gave Grath its final whiff;
the catapult had one result, all life lay lazelled stiff.
The plastic waves that washed the graves, now homeland for the rutch,
though faring worse when quenching thirst with warples in the hutch
were nonetheless, as frunks confess, so pleasant to the touch
exturbing sinks that watered wynx and onetime life as such.
Like burning blotters slurping waters, skindles sipped their fill
from koozing cracks between the tracks inhumed beneath the hill,
then spawned the spores of Grathic wars that profit from the kill;
their victory tales, like crimson crails, reside in dung and dill.
Those scrilly clouds that cowed the crowds neath radiation snapes
left little less than watercress beneath their coffin’s drapes;
yes, those unborn cannot adorn the pallor of the prapes
so scrundlemun tinge bibberun, we ones who reap the wrapes.
Yes, now-abandoned hetzelspan were once in time embroiled
with merikained that firps extained until the weather roiled.
What more, perchance, can happenstance inflict upon the koiled
when pendlesnips are in eclipse and wrapes of Grath are soiled?
THE BABY GRAND
The black baby grand,
Caressed by a slender finger,
By a young, red-haired’s fair, small hand,
(With her russet curlicues in a bow)
Emits cadences that languishing, linger
From the royal nook of the lady’s parlor,
Where she gazes through the stained-glass window
Upon the florid, turquoise harbor;
(A wave ascends, then reels,
Circling down to the watercress.)
Her patrician dress
(One might confess)
While modest, reveals
Her soft, lavish knees,
Where lilac-scented harmonies
Ring from that medieval chamber,
Out into the garden below,
Through the half-open, bluish panes,
Where the dahlias, slumbering, waver
Now to and fro, now high, now low,
Kissed by those amber, ghostly strains.
JOHN LARS ZWERENZ