free spirit of summer: a new foliage
wraps the air; vagabond daybreak spilling
colored tones on mounds of rosebuds
dripping of citrine sensation...
how beautiful they are,
enough to widen hundreds of a maiden's smiles...
and while swags of August cuddle
gemmed blossoms and herbage ,
a plump view shapes morning into a spray
of mountain petals, spreading sheer
rapture on long, lavish fields---
spellbound by sunlight of auroral tint,
flowers burst more daring than
the red, orange and pink of early beam,
as trinket of bulbs surfs along garden beds
waving their flamenco hands to greet tangled wet weeds. ...
and much like the sun they were born from,
florets thrust their tanned arms radiant. rare. robust...
here, a parade of garlands dressed in
satin hues prances on the first touch of light:
that finally, earth's flesh is decked
in summer rays, in softened prayer...
sun - up waltzing pivoting
in dawn's sweet, effervescent glow!
While morning peeps
Daisies alight
Decked in laced white
Field bursts with hues
More blooms unfold --
Plums, clives so gold
And daybreak glints,
Flushed with soft sun
Kids humming...' fun'
Rows of florets
Flaunt their poses
Like whirled roses!
Baskets carry
Long- stemmed bouquets
Oh, lovely sprays
Buds of April ,
Glowing with charm
Their brushed tints...warm!
"For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed." - beautifulnow.is
Autumn tiptoed in after summer.
I reminisce of the silent kiss
she left as droplets on the delicate florets
of one beautiful, bright chrysanthemum.
Her early morning tryst went undetected
until the evidence of it glistened
in the light of a sweet September dawn.
I spotted that lovely mum blushing pink
from the visit Autumn made just before King Sun peeked down
from his throne of gold on high in the brilliant sky
when he caught the goddess bidding a fond farewell
to the flower she had been deliciously romancing.
Too many times to count has Autumn visited
other flowers, leaving her fleeting touch of love
which puts a glow on their pretty petaled faces,
but each of her kisses is evanescent.
In that moment I recall, one chrysanthemum
glowed most gloriously from the silent kiss.
Briefly was #11 on 100 Best New Poems list on Oct 26, 2025
Garden Delights, a set of stamps
from 2024.
features stamps in which there are
different scenes of four.
A ruby-throated hummingbird
takes great delight
in hovering near a flower,
each a pretty sight:
A zinnia, cigar flower,
a spotted touch-me-not
and the fourth – a sunflower,
which I like a lot.
Oh, Sunflower, with large florets center,
be prepared to meet
the hummingbird approaching you
with her nectar sweet.
the roses in bloom
white florets on my pear tree . . .
g o n e a w a y in may
"The buds on my pear tree will become florets this day,
prettily unfurled a creamy white." by poet
On leaves of green streams down the gold
of a radiant April dawn,
and blotted out is winter’s cold
because sun’s here to warmly smile upon
the pear tree that is posing on my lawn.
The first day for her blossoming has come.
White pearled clusters now adorn my favorite tree.
A lovely fashionista this day she has become.
Can any other tree be more beautiful than she?
You taste as if twilight were—
lavender swirling like smoke from the earth
licorice lingering with the full moon’s soft pull
a sweetness both dark and divine.
Your skin sparkles with starlight
electric and soft as moth wings.
We sip the pink sky
lemonade lakes cascade through our fingers
time unspools between our hands
while the past drinks from our open palms.
The air crackles with floating florets
each breath a promise, unspoken but heard.
If love were a color it'd be you—
violet and velvet
honey and slow-mountain dew
the universe holds its breath;
galaxies halt their ancient waltz
as they struggle to name us.
And if forever had a flavor
it would stain my tongue—
sweet, dark, endless—
a love so vast
even creation forgets what came before it.
We are the first poem ever written
and the last song left unsung
our love the verse that never fades—
Just like lavender licorice and lemonade lakes.
Amid the recent snowfall, is a sunny, yellow cascade;
For, jasmine blooms are now plunging, in cold shade.
Stark trees are forever shivering, though much alive;
Dreaming of the purple birds, and lonesome beehives.
Jasmine is blooming, on every fence and green trellis,
Like rainbow that lingers; when it has much to tell us!
The street of pink-blue skies, now brings ready smiles;
To see myriad florets, on one of nature's snowy aisles.
I'm little Arianna
living in a fantasy land
with angelic wings as antenna .
On soft florets sitting grand.
Charming butterfly to astound.
Me as nice floral Regina.
So pretty flowers bloom all around.
in flowery arena..
Enchanted meadow
With a sunflower glow,
It's a dragonfly's delight.
He's so pleased to meet
A princess sweet,
There on the florets, before her flight
A pale green, hairy, rough, strong stalk
Holds her up high every morn to sun her,
She, a brown dial of Fibonacci florets with
Decorated rays of pleasant yellow petals, the
Soil beneath works hard to keep them both strong
Ah! The orchestrated visual treat of sun lover flower.
Three coins tossed at once; each coin is given a value of 2 or 3, depending upon whether it is tails or heads, respectively. Six such tosses make the hexagram. Some fortune-tellers use an empty tortoise shell to shake the coins in before throwing them on a dish or plate.
A Sonnet Lipo-gram No Letter A
Flyby moments of springtime, sweet impress
deeply rooted in the feel of the skin
Discern the hour of its serville prowess
then bloom with kindrid spirit, be its twin
Flowering florets with midget whole buds
sendings shivers down your comfy dorsum
Sleep inside this hothouse with silent thud
then rouse gently, like the weightless vellum
Time for betterment is here, find your pound
weigh it in, turn the compost of your plot
Let bygones be bygones, cover the grounds
with redress, then grow your own blessed lot
Hold the tortoise shell, put three coins in it,
then consult I Ching, the way you see fit.
Longing for the flowers that adorn my garden patch
I open wide the door that I imagine sits unlatched
Inside this magic land of mine, I'm longing to explore
every dainty blossom bud arranged with sweet adore
Une belle Epoque, "a period of high artistic view"
each boutonnieres is a whisper of, " and how are you ?"
Abiding in the charms of my annual florets,
I sit and take to wonder, how it is that we first met
It was Maytime and the sun was oh ! bran new
yes we were enamored and we stuck like crazy glue
Two petals sharing one flower, we clung like poetry
leaning on each other sharing secrets, drinking tea
Oh but that was long ago, when love was all we knew
two flowers growing wild aside some gentle feverfews
Steadfast as the sun and moon we were back then
as I sit here in my garden for the life of me,
I cannot remember, when ?
“I love the sky as twilight falls, I love the seasons as it moves and fades, I love the rapture love that echoes through time.” Quote_by poet
Rapture strings devotion binds us dearly
Through joint steps together and memories.
Our timeline flourished in deep happiness.
Billow vagrant clouds sail with the wind's breath
Wander-less towards the horizon length
while we walk unconditionally transcending.
Warming light consumes the fresh breathless scent
Curls and lingers beneath hearts' rhythm glamour
As time sweeps away as the raptured strings bind.
Emerging days echo the heartbeat rhythm succulent
Moments that swirl round profoundly tender
Like five tiny white ray florets, loves me, loves me not.
I am not yet tall-table high.
Mum turns up the blue flames,
lowers the thick sausages,
dripping crackles,
the iron skillet is licked fat.
The meat finds its voice,
a splutter of buttery smaze,
the pork is in bloom,
the animal inside the flesh
disappearing,
the meat opening florets of aroma.
A drool forcing sizzle,
makes wet lips chew air.
Mother turns, cheeks flushed,
not looking at me.
Say’s
“He will love these.”
A flash in the pan,
a gutted put-down,
and me
too low to see over myself.
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