Corollas Poems

Silk Subterfuge

An idiosyncratic apothecary,
neo pop corollas line its grove;
The price and results may vary;

Heinous hues hang extraordinary,
the bourgeoise see a treasure trove;
An idiosyncratic apothecary;

Chartreuse poppin’ pills be wary,
a champion’s golden boxing glove; 
The price and results may vary;

Bating mediocre alive to bury 
immobile in the web they wove;
An idiosyncratic apothecary;

Citrine and amethystine they carry
promise calm, balance, and love;
The price and results may vary;

Naïveté of the Sucker is scary,
 silk subterfuge we do not speak of;
An idiosyncratic apothecary,
the price and results may vary.

Vital

Among sunflower corollas
bathed in scent by the sun
life proclaims itself to be golden!

Vienna In Giddy Gravitas

sophisticated 
     asethetical art 
conceived its midst
of
a multiplicity
    of            identity

the threshold man
      outrageous output
corollas of fantasy
          &giddy gravitas 

a legacy 
still invades 
        the passive eye
touching
sensorial
undulating
        energetic

fragmentary
      linear
        frescos
curves&colour

furnished
    from body
to
space

a fantasy
     outrageous
shadows of
                expounded realism
denuded&
     decorative
        gestures
of

love

The Two Sides of Bad Weather

Near the end of October, a gelid wind blew
and froze the corollas of the dainty daisies;
it came as a surprise, sad was the face of Matthew,
no baseball in the field that echoed with screams!  

Arthur, the coach, who used to chew gum and eat chips
sat inside his office checking out the unpredictable weather,
nothing promised a break in the clouds, so he bit his lips; 
Lydia's eyes were sad and teary, she was the cheerleader!  

The young players decided to play basketball in the Gymnasium,
they didn't really miss the baseball game as much as Tim did
who sat in a remote corner and seemed to experience Librium;
a bunch of kids rushed in not sure for which team they would bid!

As winter bent trees and stripped flowers from all gardens,
inside everybody was having fun cheering for their team;
all the doors were locked and a stranded dog emitted barks,
Cindy came out and let him in as he huffed at Joachim!

After Violins, Buoyant Triangles On Red Horizon

Morning brews sunrise colors-
yolk yellow seeping over 

edges; light sterling silver 
strung; rubbed linens ironed 

across the rim. The creatural
world-a lime olive, sea blue 

cup- has a view from space:
mottled tints- mud grey, green. Deep.

Sienna red flames bedewed.
Aged worn cotton tinctures-

the crumpled fabrics' wrinkles
are mountains, hills, cliffs ingrained.

Threads netted- the indigenous 
lives captive-evolution.

They tat the stretched skies, royal.
From beats the animus- birth;

sprouting; feathery gardens
open to the sun. Roots plow.

Volcanic lands thrust- beryl 
hues are the telluric gloss 

of... diamonds. Hope. Pearl flushes- 
scents of the wash of Summers. 

Peach -brown malts- inebriation 
of puissance. Grains reaped, ablaze

in Autumn afternoons. Stoked, 
ground into mealy givings.

Marl nectare, fertility. 
Corollas of heaven- O'Keefe.

Bliss Blooms Fresh This Is My Beautiful Day

O’ alas I do say as I view
Dominant horizon filled colors
Such a beautiful colorful hue
Couples glazing amidst the wonders

My most beautiful day is, always
Ties with spring and autumn fresh aromas
Airs purest, grasses growing phase
O’ daffodil flowers corollas 

Bliss blooms fresh, this my beautiful day




10/2/19
For Queen Of Day 9 x 9 Poetry Contest
Verse poetry form only.
Sponsored by: charles messina | 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Change of Outlook

How ireful  the noise of days’ lecture
Endlessly testing  my patience bare—
And as  I watch corollas of  early moon
Flicker  under an obscure skyline ;
I linger on to await the  eerie frenzy
On  a congested Highway 106:

The small dipper winks kindly
Where a certain piousness flows
Against the  growls of angry horns--
That somehow,  I begin to launder
My habitual ramblings and change them
Into  one light of  stillness --to  savor
Breath’s rhythmic, free-flowing movement 

When duskfall gifts me tolerance.



For John Hamilton's Best Free Verse
April 1, 2018 to July 15,2018 Contest
----------------------
Originally written 4/25/2018
Entered 7/14/2018

Missed

It must piss God off
when we hate
He visits us
in dark places
with harshes
Love
Measures our willingness
It must piss God off
that we fail each other
Fall asleep in the garden
scented flowery sleep
While death lays hands on ours
Melts away in frost corollas

Zinnia

Zinnia…garland of evening; I
yield to such innocent blush;
xanthic as your  moonlight’s hue
winging along the  field’s  minty air--
vulnerable are those eyes that can
unleash a charm seen only by a few.
Time and again, a mild gloss
shimmers on your curved outline
releasing  petal drops ever
quietly : crepe tassels bobbing  to
peep among embroidered leaves
offering sweet incense for
nightfall’s prints etched  unto
meadows, wafting  with tuneful
lilts of stems bathed in dew.  Oh, you
kindle a twirl  with floral sisters
jigging daintily as if to pull me closer
in  a prance; the one I dream about
high on a wood’s lucent  trail.
Gently, my arms swing around, back and
forth until I lay on your zinnia  confetti
embracing my tingled flesh,  limbs,
deep within your moistened soil… oh how
corollas glaze into my Asian sky,
breathlessly dressed by night, leaves flickering
as you wave goodbye when summer ends!


-------------
First ever Z Y X contest
Sponsor: john lawless
10/12/2015

Picking Petals

Picking Petals
D.R. Factor

She's sits on the edge of twlight caught in a tranquil thought.
Her reflection rippled by falling petals of loves me and love me nots.
She seems too delicate to touch.
Like a soft pastel scene or butterfly wings.
She's a dream that would burst into stardust.

So I gaze at her and the distance.
Comparing her beauty to the sunset.
Realizing they complimented one another.
Each as stunning as the other.

And I wonder how it feels to be loved by this girl.
To be the man she picks petals for...
No....If it was me this moment wouldn't be left to roses and chance.
I would love her the way God loves the world.

She picks up her basket filled with an array of corollas,
and passes in front of me, wiping her tears behind a smile.
The breeze carries the fragrance of her hair, a slight hint of her perfume,
and blends them with the aroma of flowers she's gathered to enlighten her mood.

I watched her and the day disappear with the sun,
and felt the night grow cold and black,
as if it was the soul of the man who broke her heart.

Till Last Magnolia Blooms

Coffee bean scent still fills the air

with each new sunrise in our log cabin

My arms around me,embrace the winds of winter gone

Every sky-night windowpanes glow in silent mist

Lunar limbs stream through bedroom blinds

reflecting shadows on empty sheets

Star clusters shine above velvet shores

Sand-wish away from my bare toes

Another month,another year,another thought

I can't freeze time or make a clone

First magnolia blooms on a bare branch

Buzzing bees extract nectar from moist corollas

Coloured wings flutter on melting icicles

Sun birds return in a sweet song

But what is a song without a symphony

What is music with no slow dance?

His hand-pressed petal

still marks the chapter between stained pages

The dusty shelves recall my mind

recall my heart,recall my soul

For the last time these eyes would linger

before leaves curl,before buds wither

before moons move on,and I let go.

Sunflowers Drenched In Sunshine

Sunflowers drenched in sunshine thirst for rain,
their corollas droop as wheat....
lizards leap like rabbits.


Susan takes off her beautiful bonnet;
butterflies won't fly to clouds...
fields burn as a desert. 


Lassie happily plays with a red cat;
Roy is tired and falls asleep...
no breeze blows to soothe trees.

The Stir of Trumpets

Bathed in
serenity
caressed by oceans of
aesthetic, calm, spiritual
secrets.

Merry
carousels spin
from the wind off the wings
of the wispy, soft doves that sing
to me.

Velvet
corollas drift
and each perfume the air
with the essence of creations
soft breath.

Graceful, 
mute swans indulge
the breeze in the silent
beauty of nature's trumpet and
power.

Fragile
wings tickle and
wrestle typhoons within
vast tombs of perfect nature and 
my soul.

Yellow Primula

Yellow primula
Tubelike corollas
With five spreading lobes

Can't get one to grow
In my small herb garden plot
Armadillo digs

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