Golden sunlight, soft and bright,
Filters gently, warm with light.
Through the branches, high and low,
Warming all the earth below.
Azaleas blush in pink and red,
Geraniums lift each vibrant head.
Roses whisper, petals wide,
Bottlebrush stands with crimson pride.
Rhododendrons in magenta hue,
Hydrangeas paint the world in blue.
Zinnias sparkle, bright cascades,
Marigolds glow in golden braids.
Star jasmines mist the air with fragrance,
Butterflies heed lantanas’ bright summons.
Ladybugs twirl, insects glide,
Nature’s rhythm sparks a smile.
The pool, a mirror in the light,
Cool and crisp—a shining sight.
I dip my feet, the world feels kind,
A grateful heart, a tranquil mind.
Categories:
bottlebrush, flower, garden, happiness, nature,
Form: Rhyme
There are times
when I long to move
beyond the edges of myself
as when, this morning, alongside
the power station fence,
I passed under a red cloud
of bottlebrush flowers
dripping nectar in a frenzy
of birds feeding on the sticky
clusters overhead,
too high for me to reach
and plunge my hand
deep into the pure joy
of that crimson feast.
And when a greyhound,
let loose from its leash,
ran past me with such speed
and grace, I longed to be
its stride, the power propelling
it across the grass
and into the distance, turning
in the wide arc
of its own happiness.
I would have given anything
to dissolve into its bounding
freedom, undone from my leash
of old age and the slow shuffle
of aching feet.
There are times
when I long to move
beyond the edges of myself,
if only for a moment.
Categories:
bottlebrush, bird, dog, joy, self,
Form: Free verse
bio luminance
natures living light
seasonal displays
natures flashing light
brighter than the shining sun
electric lightening
natures loudest noise
an echoing thunderclap
deafening
spring… summer… autumn…
winter… twelve months… one year done
new calendar time
tap tap… tap tap… hark
lesser spotted woodpecker…
nature rapping… beating time
seed pods one meter
Entada gigas... ten seeds
ocean travellers
colour attraction
flora pollinators… bees
moths follow their nose
Christmas evoking
tales of happiness… times past
white… snowflakes bright
nature… her keyhole
not relevant… has no door
forever… not sure…
reptile scales… their skin
attire… stole from nature
tiles on roofs… walls… floors
bio luminous
biochemical action
the glowworms bright light
anniversaries
birthdays… creation-days… all
everyday events
treats... natures wonders
help to save them don’t pollute
no nature… no life
garden bottlebrush
love… and mother natures help
vandals destroyed it
Categories:
bottlebrush, nature,
Form: Haiku
Yellow crops of sandstone,
Jagged mountain peak,
Red display of waratahs,
A meandering bush creek.
White display of flannel flowers,
Bottlebrush with orange cones,
Beautiful fronds of tree ferns,
Blue gums with crafted tones.
A frolicking roll of mountain mist,
An ancient windswept cave,
Green moss upon the velvet rocks,
Falling gum leaf gives a wave.
The tinkling sounds of bellbirds
Run echoes round the stream,
A yellow-tailed cockatoo
Circles back to where it's been.
The buzzing of a bush-bee
Comes from near a fallen log,
A croaking sound pervading
It's a golden striped tree frog.
This bush display persistent,
Wallaby nibbles grass nearby,
A lyrebird shyly into view,
Kookaburras sit in branches high.
The melodic sounds continue,
Chirping birds with colored plume,
Gorge of coolness calling,
Mountain gully, nature's loom.
kidscomedypoetry.com.au
Categories:
bottlebrush, nature,
Form: Verse
bottlebrush blooming
with fat honeybees humming-
the postman sneezes
Categories:
bottlebrush, spring,
Form: Haiku
Each spring the fig tree bursts at the ends
of bare branches like Fido in heat, and
there's one empty bird nest: an epigenous
ornament out of season in mid-March.
"April is the cruellest month," T. S. Eliot
wrote. He who understood growth
is pain, a thrust of agony. So, be about
your birthing, little bush--push out leaves,
cringe at the episiotomy of knife and shears.
Hear me crooning, "There, there, I will be quick..."
No blood spurts out in slash of azalea, in
burst of bottlebrush. No inky ooze in purple
periwinkle that slept all winter. I prune
the shove and shaft of elm, as it fulfills its
promise of shade and safety, behead
the poisonous crawling vines, their deadly
embrace, shake the pines for cones,
so perfect, so concise. Would that I might
morph that way each spring--perfect,
concise, whatever the price.
Categories:
bottlebrush, fantasy
Form: Blank verse