Burgeoning Poems | Examples

With A Gentle Hand - Mystic

With a gentle hand, He held mine,  
Guiding me through the night,  
Assuring me that I would find the light,  
A perpetual light that pierces through burgeoning darkness.  

We journeyed through the meadow,  
With a gentle hand, He held mine,  
Dispersing the gnawing shadows,  
Telling me to awaken the dying hope.  

We sojourned across the sea,  
The intermittent turbulence frightened me.  
With a gentle hand, He held mine,  
Calming my fearful heart,  
Telling me to see beyond the tempest.  

We journeyed through the forest,  
I was distraught;  
There was no place to lay my head.  
With a gentle hand, He held mine,  
Telling me to learn resilience from the trees,  
Admonishing me to seek knowledge from their silence.  

We travelled across the desert,  
I was parched and worn out,  
Blazed by the sun.  
With a gentle hand, He held mine,  
Telling me that the sun would soon retreat to its chamber,  
And the moon would open the door to mysteries that herald a new beginning.


September 5, 2025.

I am Green

I hide beneath oceans deep where mysteries peep.
I dwell amid the arching spectrum of rainbow hues
Some slander and call me ‘green eyed jealousy’
All I do is make this earth cheery to everyone's eyes.

I am the harbinger of the burgeoning spring.
I’m everywhere, even on a seemingly barren hill top,
I’m in trees and grass, crowning and carpeting the land. 
To ailing spirits, I’m balm. To peasants, I’m hope. 

I am the lovely garb God gave the earth to wear.
Due to misuse, it is now under wear and tear!

Passion Flowers

They bloomed together
within the same state of mind
though separated
by zones of time.
Sultry words sprouted
sprig-like inklings flourished
as they bound each other
to a burgeoning erotica,
yo florid images.
O such efflorescence!
O how the swelling vine
can cling and clutch
at far distant hearts,
sadder yet the perfidy
of too hungry a need,
for indeed
he also tendered
to many other female offshoots,
and she herself was a veritable
Venus Fly Trap.
In such a way,
they wove their sensual spells,
a hothouse sorcery
doomed
never to be close enough
to ever take root.

The Pride of Santa Monica, California

Robert Cabot Sherman, Jr. was an All-American boy.
To his parents, Robert Cabot Sr. and Juanita, he was their great joy.
Gifted with acting skills and a great voice, his career went far.
In no time at all, California's native son became a star.
On television in "Here Come the Brides", he played "Jeremy"
This role cemented his tremendous popularity.

His first recording of "Little Woman" soared up the charts.
Bobby won uncountable teenage girls' hearts.
His burgeoning popularity was totally unquestionable.
Other hits that followed made him a big teen idol.
With all the attention he was getting, there was some strife.
Bobby decided to back away to a quieter life.
Yes, Bobby certainly accomplished much in his day.
At the age of eighty-one, he silently passed away.

Bobby Sherman
(1943-2025)

I thank Wikipedia,org online encyclopedia for information I obtained to write this poem.

A Scintillating Sunrise- POTD

Brandishing the lightning lance, the sun arrives,
The mighty, majestic monarch of the day.
Kissing the mouldy mountain rows, he comes
Banishing mist and frost from night’s blotched brow.

In what rich ruby ring of radiance, he appears 
Smearing and splotching liquid gold, he gracefully moves
With sparkling splashes, the world becomes bright
The prompt and punctual rooster raises his raucous revelry. 

Birds and beasts wake up from their slumberous sleep.
The feathered folks tweet and twitter in harmonious notes.
The verdant vales below send up a welcoming sign.
The leaves stay bright tipped with dainty droplets of dew.

Morn, the bashful, mousy maiden with modest grace,
Peeps and peeks through half drawn curtains in the East.
Removing all trace of a tarnished yesterday,
The day arrives making me smile in burgeoning bliss.

The Verge of April

Green twigs drip late into the day,
birdsongs bloom from the windblown.
Soft are the veins that leach from new leaf.
Sweet the prodigal sap that seeps.
Earthworms salt and curl in the opulent swirl,
swell in the muddy and proclaiming.
Full are the snuggery wombs.
Full the burgeoning buds.
Fulsome the wellsprings,
the green hush of new awakenings.

Winter Jasmine

Harbinger of Spring

A perfect beauty, lover of sunshine
Casting her brilliance, a warm golden glow
Pride of my patch Winter Jasmine sublime
Drawing the eye with her fantastic show

Bright blossom blooming on branches so bare
Greeting the season, the dawning of spring
This glorious vine, though no scent to share
has a colourful zest, makes your eyes zing

Burgeoning plant sprawling over a wall
Disguising old brickwork coated in lime
Shortened and shaped away back in the fall
but no holding back now, this is her time


Of all the flowers the garden blessed
The Winter Jasmine is one of the best

twenty volcanoes are erupting on earth right now

and why not
let them;
my son is asleep in the car
the radio plays
the skies are grey 
the windows are nearly shut
a delicate breeze converges with 
our transcendence
we are being transported
as he possibly dreams about
another football league he wants to invent
or, as he mentioned before hopping in the car
he wanted to leave the tennis early
to write his own song at home
he wants to relate, impart and begin his goodbyes
as the gale invading the vehicle is like the
tempest of ideas burgeoning his mind
i pull up to traffic lights and 
i wonder if such joy exists in 
the other cars 
around us

A Wave of Reverence

You are a warm cup of coffee
on a cold winter day.
Darkness, an abyss, the repudiated banned;
I'd rather suffocate in your shadows
than paddle in someone else's light.

You are a misinterpreted parsnip,
and I, the farmer in the fall.
Utopia in your eyes,
my pulsing heart bears your dawn,
and your name is ingrained in my mind.

My vigour of love nor the reasons metamorphose;
Our souls are entangled,
burgeoning the yarn loved by a cat.
Love is a disease; I am the patient
lingering for it eagerly.

I treasure you against all logic,
against all the sin in the world.
I can only solve the enigma with you.
When we are apart, I miss you
like the stars miss the sun at night.

There is a prodigious world seen in your eyes.
I am jealous of the mirror that sees you daily,
envious of the cozy blanket that envelops you.
Men squabble and crucify; even if I forfeit,
I will be the phoenix rising from the ashes for you.

strawberry moon

tantalizing treat
	mustard burgeoning crimson ~
		mockingbird lipstick

(June Full Moon – Algonquian, Ojibwe, Dakota, and Lakota)

That was Then, this is Now

Once, 
I saw rainbows, 
across the tear washed sky. 
Their iridescent gleam
illumining the astral realm 
and spilling down into the waters below. 
Buds burgeoning on every branch, 
Flowers opening their delicate folds, 
and summer bees spiraling around,
gathering nectar for frosty days.

Saw radiant smiles gleaming past,
angelic babes’ innocent face, 
Men toiling from dawn to dusk
going about their lives’ odyssey, 
Speeding vehicles moving down 
as ants, in an unbroken chain, 
Nature, posing from time to time
in silken green, amber gold
and in dazzling white	

Everything fleeted past,
as through the window
of a speeding train.
Neither did they linger long
nor were they daubed bright
in paints variegated,
on my mind's impressionable canvas
to call them back to mind at will.

I lived my life in acute haste.
Colors, shades and myriad scenes
passed me by as common sight

But now with a heavy mist blocking out my sight
and an inexorable darkness
covering me like a shroud, 
plunging me, all of a sudden, into a perpetual night
where sun beams never again shall fall,
I realize with a jolt, how much I have missed
and how much more I will miss!

Spring Embrace

Embracing Spring after winter season
Dour skies for months with chilling cold weather
Summer dreams where roses are Elysian
Highland hills swept with grandeur of heather.

Poppies and wildflowers grow abundant
Landscape well crafted in burgeoning green
Winter is now completely redundant
Flawless moment with clear sky opaline.

Wonderful optics total perfection
Living every moment quite joyfully
All so beautiful no imperfection
Ephemeral comfort no apathy.

Enchanted springtime spreads luminous wings
On gentle breeze, Mother Nature does sing.

The Cycle 5: Protected

Abusive rotations percolate
down; broken and cast away.
Warmth brightens in a moment.
Snapping heat darkens the next.
Even cooling age brings distant rage.
No escape from the Mighty God.
Hands cast out; reaching and grabbing.
Stones thrown in envious desire,
smash into hopeful façades.
Smooth faces burgeoning with life;
cast back into fiery birth.
Bright youth broken by wretched pain.
Hot, cracked, and without love.
Only shielding brother brings hope,
The Usurper; hated rival. Amassed;
gravitating influence challenging.
Absorbing spiteful stones of sterility,
a protector circling; back scarred,
power balances in the system.
Abused by their wretched God.

August Sketch Pad

Golden dewdrop spread on gray window sill,
warm rays from the summer sunburst at will,
sprightly cheep from high flier mourning bird,
pulsating heart aroused by what I
heard

Gorgeous is an adjective for viewing,
colors on an august sketch pad brewing,
vivid  blooms awash in swaying basket,
visual trinkets stored in made up  casket

Brown leafs strewn that capture noonday wonder,
elevate a world from going under,
pathway to a peak or slope’s dream patch,
eternal beauty words can never match

Heaven at my doorstep every second,
fantastic bliss around me now beckoned,
mountains, valleys, trickling streams, verges,
a burgeoning green world city surges

Rainbow fountain mesmerizing stunned throng,
eye catcher sprinkled hue a bright mist prong,
gorgeous is that gift wrapped term used above,
blue skyline veil from brushstroke that I wove

October Streetwise Plot

Wild Leafs flutter in a hue-laden town,
windows creak open, spritely faces gleam,
cheerful air burgeoning, no need to frown,
sweet fragrant coffee dock, a gust of hot steam,
just rejoice as the heavens don their gown

Bus stop close at hand, joyous high alert,
laughter billows skyward without panic,
rainbow veneered  archway, daylight concert,
broadcast on the pavement, sound of manic,
street painter chalk marks granite slab, dull gray berth

It’s autumn and those colours bound to show,
bright clad walkway, budding Rembrandt canvass,
red hot sun trail blaze, smoldering, aglow,
ice cool fall in situ, magic atlas,
urban setting nod to season wide flow

Power lines a home for migrant songbirds,
they chirp at streetwise citizens in train,
who brave the latent chill in eager herds,
huff and puff swarm enduring tingly rain,
rapture in a plot for winter blizzards

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