Camomile Poems | Examples

Adventure

We got an old basket
A ball of strong twine
And one or two things
Of yours and mine
We found an old blanket
And very very soon
We were flying up high
In our homemade balloon
Mr Skylark interrupted
His wonderful song
To wish Bon Voyage
As we sailed along
I doffed my hat 
To the astounded crow
We very soon left
A few miles below
We moored for a time
To the edge of a cloud
And we looked around 
Both feeling so proud
I filled your glass
With sparkling wine
That I’d hidden 
In a pocket of mine
We raised a glass
And drank a toast
To old Father Sky
Our wonderful host
Then we decided 
After a roam
It was time really 
We set off for home
Where you washed your hair
And I shook my head 
Before putting my blanket
Back on my bed
After a cup
Of Camomile tea
You set off home
And I climbed a tree
I waved to the lark
The crow and the sky
Then I went to sleep
With both of my eyes

She Drank Tea

Aunt Judith was the only tea drinker in the family;
Camomile brewed from bags - no loose tea leaves for her to read - 
her future was foretold at birth: heart defect and early death.

The wise doctors were sure she would not live much beyond thirty,
but with faith and determination she surprised us all -
Joyfully, she left this world at the ripe old age of fifty!

On a November Afternoon

Grant me a peaceful afternoon 
with hums alighting on nodding blooms,
butterfly wings and a soothing
lullaby whispered by washing
hanging on a line.

Let life be settled by a calm 
with pleasant talk and camomile tea
and overhead, the soundless 
drift of clouds across a placid sky
and leaves weaved in patterns
to print a cooling shade
upon a table set with scones,
cream and raspberry jam,
and above all,
birdsong sweet enough
to camouflage the sound
of screams and falling bombs.

Beyond Midnight

it’s beyond midnight
candlelight and camomile
moons wane - eyelids close

3/18/2022

Spring

twitching noses 
in tussocks
      of awakened primroses

rummaging on hazel boles
hibernating mammals 
poke from the holes

leafless hedgerows 
       where buds now form 
a carpet of white corm
Badgers forage 
       for food near their sett
 renewing
 their bracken scented couchette

Sparrow and robin 
            pair off in twos 
as lengthening days 
          come into view.
aconite open in rays of sun
 below yellow catkins 
          with tails fine spun.

Osier shoots
      in green corn camomile
 as Spring mornings 
                                begin to smile.

February

W  I  N  T  E  R
B  R  E  A  K  S
N  A  T  U  R  E
A  W A  K  E  S
G  A  R  D  E  N
A  S  L  E  E   P
&
an oldie reposted

Fields flooded into skating rinks
into which each footstep sinks,
cracking under body weight so
not the best place to skate.

Thawing February of twitching noses
in tussocks of woken primroses.
Rummaging on hazel boles,hibernating mammals
poke from the holes.

Leafless hedgerows , buds now form
a carpet of white corm,
Badgers forage food near their sett
 renewing the bracken scented couchette.

Nature pair off in twos
 lengthening days come into view.
aconite open in rays of sun
 below, yellow catkins tails fine spun.

Osier shoots in green corn camomile
 early Spring mornings begin to smile.



Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2007

Snow Versus Poetry and Tea

 
my world is covered with pristine white, and I want to, go shopping,
the snowflakes are pretty, but the wind is causing, huge drifts,
oh, will stay put, to write my poetry, and drink camomile tea!

____________________________
October 15, 2019


Poetry/Sijo/snow versus poetry and tea
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1188-694-02
All Rights Reserved.  Written under Pseudonym.

Submitted to the FFI Blog Series 29 - Sijo
Brian Strand

Podium Place 1

Whimsical Ziggy Starman Space Odyssey

Oh 
Your whimsical 
Words and whiles and ways 
Are like Vaseline on a chapped baby's bum
Or camomile on sunburn skin
Conservative journeys traversing the vacuum 
On the dark side of the moon
Only the true believers 
Are destined to see
If Apollo goes to plan
And the shuttle lands
The future is in your hands
Fire up the marching band
And make a stand
For a return to mother earth
Re-entering in a blaze of firework glory
The countdown where Rockets left
Sound a crack of warrant thunder
No more under
The spell of magic
The whimsical reside
Man has been to the other side 
And there is no going back
The heaven's are no longer black
Back to the motherland 
Where the only thing to fear
Is conquering army's 
That fund exploration

Irresistible Aroma

Natures aromas, fragrance naturally disperse 

Delightful infusions for our senses to indulge,

Fresh cut grass, delectation, beautiful Ladies purse,

Old English roses bloom with scent they divulge,

Honeysuckle, jasmine, hyacinth, excite nostrils

Inviting participants to go closer, exciting receptors 

Within nasal passage, leaving memorable trails

Of pleasurable sweet life giving golden nectars,

Honey scented buddleia, joyful lilies pure, true

Gently Intoxicate, alternating mood docile to virile

On a summers evening, aroma wafting through

Sultry night air, standing on a carpet of camomile,

Essence of Lavender entwined with magnolia 

Accentuate our pleasure being experienced

By fragrances, or colourfulness of begonia 

Our wonderful aromatic plants can't be replaced.

A Path In a Closed Night

Virginal and silent,
unbroken by steps
that would turn
stones into shaken beats.

Alongside brewed growth,
soft layers of life
simple with worms,
nightcloth and grass song.

A stride away from the lights
of distant roads,
the air cold,
we are new under stars.

(This is the picture that
makes me stare holes
through thenight, you turn,
asleep in your bed,
a cocoon of linen and camomile)

Tea

aqua dependent,  thirsting for 
   the mechanical tin priest.

 the lord is in the kettle when
 the water begins to move. 


 now there is a river without reason 
 that flows from the faucet.

 the faucet is cheap and leaks when
  turned all the way to the right.

 the lord is in the cheap faucet 
 for the lord is in all water.


  there is a flame on the stove.

 the lord is not in the flame 
because it is to late for that.

 Camomile divinity in a tea cup 
at half past 9..

Camomile Tea V Beer

I once tried some camomile tea,
It was bland and tasted like pee.
‘Twas lapped up by the dog,
Who then snored like a hog.
From then on, was just beer for me.

Jack Horne for Francine's Beverage contest, 29th October

Winter Turns To Spring

Snowfall so heavy in 'eighty-two
 reproduced a Christmas card view.
A biting wind swirled in one foot drifts
 over hanging in bridges..makeshift.

The fields flooded into skating rinks
 into which each footstep sinks,
cracking under body weight so 
not the best place to skate.

Thawing February brings twitching noses 
in tussocks of awakened primroses.
Rummaging on hazel boles,hibernating mammals 
poke from the holes.

Leafless hedgerows where buds now form 
a carpet of white corm,
Badgers forage for food near their sett
 renewing their bracken scented couchette.

Sparrow and robin pair off in twos 
as lengthening days come into view.
aconite open in rays of sun
 below yellow catkins with tails fine spun.

Osier shoots in green corn camomile
 as early Spring mornings begin to smile.

Medley of Color

Delicate dewdrops of spring
Powder the sweet meadow of life.
Passion of wild flowers,
Blossoms of tulips and daffodils,
Haze of violets and camomile,
Charms of the rosemary,
All surround the pale horizon.
A vision of fragrant petals,
The water of life,
A portrait of the soul.

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