By the carpark of the library
Red, purple and white spots dance free.
Poppies, Cornflowers, Daisies -
So beautiful to see!
What delicacy,
These flowers three -
How lovely!
Happy
Me!
[My first Nonet and rhyming - 1 July 2026]
Signal Hill dressed in white spring daisies
Below in harbour yachts set sail for Rio
Table Bay tessellated turquoise with sailors in paisleys
Southern wind sent them gallant like Galileo ~
clusters tend to blind the eyes
overwhelm and hypnotise
I appreciate how that occurs
temporarily reality blurs
daisies fade and daisies wilt
though Earth remains on its same tilt
constant vase sometimes contains bliss
I'm temporal and aware of this
I watch as time demonstrates this fate
there is no sense asking time to wait
nor comfort in letting time past conflate
with our present or future state
each burst of joy that bloomed in view
was gift in moment and threat in lieu
yet yin and yang cannot accrue
and balance is the resting hue
I'm temporal in the schemes and storms
constants are not truthful forms
though Earth remains it can't contain
daisies if there are no rains
temporarily we pause or rush
I appreciate calm in the hush
overwhelm there taught to rest
clusters tended will manifest
Ever lustrous was the sun
Upon her country,
And so golden was her blood
As it pour’d like aging brandy
Through the cracks of the forest.
That day, I descended forth
Upon the sylvan path,
Unto the hidden clearing
Lined with golden bottlebrush,
Wherein my chaliced daisy buds
Silently sway’d – like alterpieces
Lowly hung upon the pines.
I laid myself to leisure
Amongst the weeds, and mother time
Revel’d in her mossen’d drapes,
Until the season of
Unravish’d stillness rang forth,
When Aphrodite humm’d in tune
Her sacred chord.
stuck in dark corner
newspapers unread, fridge leaks
beets rot in high heap
•
pots and pans unwashed
waiting for spring daisy dew
slowly make pickles
•
carrots kiss wet earth
feed blackbirds watching stale crusts
breeze blow blue bubbles
•
new rain equals life
smile at illusive spaces
catch falling acorns
•
Centered in sunshine, tender and pure, "girl next door", simply adorned-utterly adored and loved like crazy.
Bark, snarl, moan
DON'T howl at the moon,
howl into charcoal night
where darkness hunts the hunted,
Where consistency is metaphor
barking from the trees.
Tip toe, nibble
20lbs of everything,
but when is wolf more than just a sheep?
Or when ignorance asks,
" how do you feel? "
So bark
snarl
moan,
then snap!
HOWL into the moon.
Amber-gold
delicate
fresh daisies
dance and smile
whispering
to the sky
a loving
melody
of delight
Placed third
Tricube Challenge Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Oliver Mckeithan
Abundance of daisies,
Delicate white petals,
Leaves of green,
A meadow, so beautiful,
A joy to be seen.
Star shaped white faces,
Gently swaying in the breeze,
They appear everywhere,
In fields and amongst trees.
The joy of nature.
Wild and wonderful,
So graceful and silent,
Daisies so delicate and small,
A field full of daisies,
Such a lovely view,
I made a little daisy chain,
Especially for you!!
Bumblebee Ding pollinates the daisies as the grasshoppers sing
The daisies like him, but here’s the thing, they call him a ding-a-ling
Not to be disrespectful, but it is their privilege and their way
For daisies are the flowers that want to forever play.
Across the valley, green pasture and the hills
I imagine dancing to freedom I feel
Lifting my toes in the daisies, full of thrills
Along the river, my spirit flows surreal
It's a taste of heaven on land around me
I imagine dancing to freedom I feel
In the sky, large birds soar so effortlessly
Peace comes naturally, not something I chase
It's a taste of heaven on land around me
I stand strong in the heights, bad things I erase
Enjoying a new life with things I create
Peace comes naturally, not something I chase
I'm part of life's production, lessons and fate
I'm becoming everything I want to be
Enjoying a new life with things I create
My mind absorbs the landscape, all that I see
Across the valley, green pasture and the hills
I'm becoming everything I want to be
Lifting my toes in the daisies, full of thrills
Heidi Sands
4/29/25
(C)opyright
my mom’s not pushing up daisies
having gone to her eternal rest in Spring
her restful place is where her soul has gone
back to earth with its raindrop-moss
(springy, as if for a tiny bunny
or hallucination-size “wabbit”)
off track, the violet urn
next to the frame
that holds my mother’s face
and my attention
confused by the unscattered ashes
contained. she’s there
or elsewhere
or both ways
dizzy the thoughts
and my nephew
on and over a couple
mountaintops where is he
particles placed, displaced
proper, improper
does it matter
it all matters
and the occasional shock
of a true blue viewing
passing by the other room
while relative remains
seem sentiments of denial
until a video snaps
you out of it
suddenly appears
the ghost
or a huge photograph
reminds you
why your there
in that chair
listening to the air
breathing
mountain majesty
daisies peeking over rise
peering at sunset
Daisies and sunflowers
dancing in the seemingly endless field
Sitting with you
the grass waving underneath our legs
The golden sunshine rays
washing over your face
Memorizing this moment forever
I said to no one
Will I remember you?
So this is where I'm bound to sleep
Just three feet wide and six feet deep
No shirt, no shoes, or even sox
Only me in my little box
So grab a shovel, lend a hand
And bury me in desert sand
I know that it's a boring job
Guess I shouldn't have robbed the Mob
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