Best Wildflowers Poems
luscious light, lingering in a world of delight- sweet serenade
perfect place, set with grace, tender thoughts embrace me
there is magic in the air, beyond compare
fragrance of love, i am swept above
- - oh sweet perfume, welcome me soon - -
to where the wildflowers bloom
my heart does swoon
in moments true
lost in
you
__________________
* Just a little scribble *
Form of poetry: 10 words to 1
~ Sleeping Beauty ~
Wildflowers
Your words scream out the relative cynicism
Of an age that doesn’t believe
In anything –
Not God nor Goodwill
Nor possibility:
You label me a Pollyanna,
Mary Sunshine,
And a fool
For believing –
For grasping onto every positive mystery,
For staking claim to promises
Made in an ancient land of promise;
But,
Remember, my friend,
When we both awaken
In the same morning
Weary of the greyness
Deep
Within that place
Where life breaths life,
I will look up with a wrinkled grin
To laugh out loud
Embracing life
In the wind
Blowing through early summered trees
Keeping watch for the coming of the rain
Nourishing
Wildflowers of the fields - on mountainsides -
Blooming in August.
Colored wildflowers form
In fields of grassy green
They don’t recall, the day they were born
They only love to be seen.
In fields of grassy green
They claim their place in life
They only love to be seen
Though they are, scarred by strife.
They claim their place in life
They beautify the land
Though they are, scarred by strife
They’re placed by Gods’ own hand.
They beautify the land
Like colors on a palette
They’re placed by Gods’ own hand
They couldn’t grow without it.
Like colors on a palette
They blend well in a field
They couldn’t grow without it
At home there, they can feel.
They blend well in a field
Wildflowers that are born
At home there, they can feel
Colored wildflowers form.
Another dozen fragrant roses,
so vibrant so sweet
luscious scarlet petals
where beauty and nature meet.
Another romantic evening
a record on repeat
The same special circumstances
where roses expected to greet.
But where is the passion
that sparked the feelings in me
the variety the unusual
the wild and carefree
remember the good times
enjoying of all nature's best
dancing through meadows
putting life to the test
Spring breezes blowing
shoes on the side of the creek
dancing with daises
and her beauty unique
Wondrous wildflower moments
where pure innocence lies
like a child's loving gesture
bringing a gleam to these eyes
Charming patterns surround us,
whispering in
shadows of our lives.
Born as thoughts, painting our dreams
with landscapes
of greens, purples, reds;
abstract colors bursting onto our canvas.
Patterns chase us through
fields of watercolor wildflowers,
down slopes of wind-blown grasses
of lavender-tipped gold.
We find them in balmy, cotton clouds, wind-carved rocks,
and moss-covered stones
kissed by noisy waters.
They sometimes ride on a butterfly's wings,
often found in new flowers, a child's face,
a leaf turned up, where a ladybug hides.
Charming patterns: mysterious looks they wear,
they cause us to question, to wonder, to imagine.
Both elegant and bold, charming patterns always present
puzzles to unwind,
stretching our minds.
West Texas Wildflowers
Waving in the wind
Weather-worn whispering
Whirling warnings to my window
As I water my wallflower
The weeds won’t stop growing
So I whistle the wisdom
I once welcomed
As I wish it away
Watch me wane
As it wastes me away
I’m wilting
With the willows
Weeping
Weakening in this web
woven around me
I’ve quit wondering
What a wasted world
I’m surrounded by
Windows but the walls are all warping
Who waged this war not worth winning?
Will all you want
But wait as you will if you are not working
No time for wandering
I work because I’m weltering
But I’ll always grow weary of the wyrd
The west Texas wildflowers warned me
I've searched nearby hillocks and sand.
They've gone missing sooner than late:
no wildflowers to perk barren land,
gypsy flowers by garden gate.
Where are those tiny violets
that snuggled closely to the ground;
yellows that smiled to all they met,
iris-hued daisies always found?
Blossoms dipped in a sunset's peach
once caressed my garden's rock wall.
And, tangled beside, in their reach
trumpet vines, crimson-red and tall.
Drought escorted seasons' changing,
yet we missed blossoms' frantic call.
This summer passed rearranging
joy with no wildflowers at all.
August 10, 2022
along the roadside
unfolded bluebells chiming -
sweetness seem to fall
Sure I enjoy the scent of candles
Watching the flame dance upon top of the mantle
Beautiful reflections and silhouettes all aglow
Flickering flame swaying to and fro
For the fragrance I'm seeking an imposter won't do
Sorry my beloved candles when Spring and Summer come so ends our sacred rendezvous
You're a lovely substitute and put on a great show
We'll reunite in cold weather and special occasions until then on hold our love will still grow
Plant me in a field of wildflowers
Help me to bud and blossom with a light misted Spring shower
Bask in the aromas brought out stronger by the warmth of the sun
Mmm sweet heavenly scents that can't be outdone
Natural essence and beauty one can't imitate
Such beautiful feelings it stirs to initiate
Too long I've improvised with fake for real
No clone or replica will do to seal the deal
While willows weep and flowers sleep
The sweetest of dreams I shall keep
Plucking a bouquet of pretty posies
Singing and dancing with my kids to ring around the rosie
Aspen leaves flutter like birds
as a breeze ponders the lake's surface
and I brush away a willow leaf of cold jade.
Soon there will be a face in the moon
with its familiar brow arched
over what should be cornflowers
now residing beyond the lambent braids
of feral rye and muscled hillocks.
A miracle in cerulean sprouts in distant concrete,
a bluebell behind a sheet of glass,
unaware of the secret I share with wildflowers,
nor a memory of snow where appeared
an epiphany of morning glories.
I stumbled a dandelion kiss
to be blown on one's lashes, but it disappeared
in a gust of diesel smoke, the shriek of pads
on brash steel.
The rings of felled dogwoods measure seasons
cyan skies ignore. Each spring revealed the promise
of lapis daisies, the rush of violets.
Late summer left barren spikes of amaryllis.
It's been many thaws since I awaited the shy crocus.
Posted 10/3/23
Wildflowers are uncultivated vegetation.
In forests and towns growing without cultivation.
Like most they are used in home medication.
Dandelions are nutritious and can ease pain's vexation.
Fever few staves off migraine attacks while,
Low immune is boosted by berries and chamomile.
Our bloating and gas is helped by chamomile tea,
While sore throat pain is helped with a bit of honey.
Eucalyptus oil can help make sinus pain moot.
Retaining water and PMS, try some chaste tree fruit.
Send out for a book on natural cures.
Don't poison yourself with drugs bought in stores.
A place to see wildflowers in great
abundance is high in the mount-
tains in a bright green meadow
The sky is so blue and
the flowers colors
are so bright that
you look at
them in
awe
Wildflowers grow in so many places with
beautiful colors of different
shades of colors such as red
blue lavender pink white
yellow Their are many
kinds of flowers
for us to
see from
God
God made the wildflowers for everyone
to enjoy But first you have to
slow down to look at them
They come in many shapes and
different colors
you will find them
in fields and
roadside
ditchs
High on remote cliffs,
wildflowers huddle
between
wind scalped boulders,
heads kept down,
their roots weaved
into crevices
where a little soil has been
won from rain wash
and wear. They grow
surrounded by a constant
howl, just above
the clawing fingers
and thrown up fury
of waves.
Deep
in their creviced home,
they snatch only
a brief, upward glimpse
of a passing sun,
life confined more
to a damp sliver of shade
sandwiched between stone.
No broad vistas
but a claustrophobic crush,
a cramped space
from where they gasp
for freedom.
For centuries
they have lived like this.
Generations have come
and gone, the living
nourished by the flesh
of the dead.
Countless human wars
have been fought, lost
and won. Year after year
they bloom, yearning
to be noticed, fed
on the merest ration
of light shed
by a merciless sun.
Thank you, they cry,
Thank you.
Standing out in a field alone, a little white flower named Daisy longed for someone to share her world.
One day a blue flower named Bachelor Button entered her world they became friends.
She knew by his name that he was not the propagating kind, but that didn’t stop their relationship she called him BB short for best bud.
The seasons of Spring & Summer they enjoyed the sun, laughed in the rain and held on fast in the Fall.
Winter came it was long and hard they were both covered in a blanket of snow, not knowing whether they would ever see each other again or even survive .The snow fell then came the ice, this went on for months.
The Sun shone brightly the first day of spring. A few days later warmth of the sun melted the snow, Daisy popped up .
I’ve been waiting days for you to come out, said BB, they both chanted hooray!
The snow was completely gone in a few days, the birds started building their nests , bugs were crawling around ,butterflies began to visit the two flowers. I wish there were more of us Daisy said, to BB.
They laughed as the sun and wind blew through their leaves. Then it started the sun and rain took turns until one morning the air & field was filled with the smell of flowers.
Daisy and BB looked at each other and asked what kind of flowers are these ? they’re not white like daisies they’re not blue like bachelor buttons. They did not know the birds and bugs carried the seeds from the two of them and the caterpillars buried them under the soil.
The seeds from the new flowers were then carried by the winds many miles away, they landed in fertilized gardens and flourished, although they faced danger everyday.
as they were called WEEDS ..
The Gardener pulls weeds out of the garden so they don’t choke the flowers, which cost a lot of money and require lots of maintenance.
However there was a Gardener who saw her friends spending hours weeding their garden , that they didn’t have enough time to admire and enjoy the labors of their love
So she set out to give a home to all the weeds ,she provided a place where they could fit in and multiply, they required no maintenance, rain provides their water .
The best part of all is their beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Ask my granddaughter-- What are those flowers in the garden ?
She will answer "WILDFLOWERS " their parents were Daisy and BB