golden blonde meadows
wild roadside congregations,
shining flower torch
On a field of green grass
Yellow buttercups spread mast
Row on row of the spread mass
Coating the field un surpassed
With yellow buttercups outspread
On grassy fields spread
dropped and forgotten
his small friend has run away
hot sun buttercups
teddy is waiting
for however long it takes
for nighttime cuddles
redbirds sing of love
in the hour of orange heat
teddy bear in blooms
buttercup meadow
beside the pond where frogs croak
fireflies when sun dies
The fields that once held buttercups are gone
Giant furrows pattern that long land
Made by huge machines whose time has come
Precise as old account books , now forlorn,
As moving as are waves on desert sand
The fields that once held buttercups have gone
Nothing human-sized remains untorn
Nowhere for dear lovers hand in hand
Killed by huge machines whose time has come
But young folk do not court, they hurry on
Annihilating what we elders understand
The fields that once held buttercups have gone
All too rapidly our world’s undone
To the deserts of the heart we’re sent
Dragged by by huge machines whose time has come
Can no passion change the way nor lend
Creative means to pacify and mend?
The fields that once wore buttercups have gone
Ground by huge machines,death times have come
In fields chasing my youth.
Endless expanse of buttercups thistle and daisies.
The sun to my face.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Lots of buttercups
Spread onto my lawn
Look so much better
Than dandelions
The colour brightens
All the grass
Making it better
With the colour spread.
buttercup's green pierces
winter's chilled earth buds swollen...
defying all odds...
She sings in soft tones,
her magic exists beyond the obvious.
Listen closely to her wanting,
She is wrapped in a trancendent light.
A dreamer,
chasing white rabbits.
Grasping for the infinite,
with delicate hands.
A moth,
Dances within her luminosity.
Flying on yesterday's wings,
carrying smiles that are meant for tommorow.
Witness her as she waits to exhale.
A daisy chain,
tied around her wrist.
A future promise to be kept.
For within her spirit,
exists a burning passion!
She waits for one who is worthy,
of her consuming flame
Although she is unaware,
hers is a temporary sadness.
Happiness flirts at the edge of her dreaming,
waiting for an open window.
His shadow hidden behind frosted glass.
Shades of green,
turn brilliant yellow!
Buttercups dance around her feet.
Her laughter floats across the meadow,
as happiness runs to her open arms.
Together they skip, towards her apple tree.
For hers is a faith that trancends the temple.
Her spirit sought and found salvation.
He had been with her all along,
I can see it in her smile.
The rain has passed and sunshine now resides in her eyes!
at each Springtime prithee please see
God's heavenly posy sent for thee
Glory
Story
Showy
Glowy
Sight
Flight
Yellow
Halo
Daffodil contest hosted by Francine Roberts
3/1/12
Doris Culverhouse
Yellow buttercups
and daisy chains
on a lush green meadow
It's the most glorious
summers day
the air filled with
laughter and chatter
like music
as children run and play.
Peter Dome.Copyright.2012.
Little golden cups of sunlight nod,
Swirling flimsy butter-yellow skirts in the wind
Dipping deeply in a curtsey
To an unseen God
A rippling rush
Of whispering gold.
Dandelions, daisies and golden buttercups
Carpet the fields, below a tree they look up
This colossus of wood with arms so spread
Capturing the sunlight, photosynthesis fed
Its reach out for life to the heavenly skies
Another marvel of nature in her portfolio surprise
The plough of the farmer and his sowing of the seeds
Turns this bright carpet to soil to feed our needs
When we have harvested the sown, and reaped natures rewards
The soil of life allows the carpet restored
Dandelions, daisies and golden buttercups
Like the colossus of wood, its their right to look up
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/nature-8.php
So many come blossoming,
verily so many merrily
so many! under the high-
spirited sun, opening
a host of yellow. Nine,
ten, three dozen blooms,
now hundreds casting off
the old lapsed minutes
the months of cold –
joking high-spirits
so sinuous on thinnest
green stems – this very
morning so many!
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