When at the bottom of the garden
pottering in the potting shed
plying those in need of weeding or reseeding
then putting all the plants to bed
she spotted and picked up a flower pot
which seemed to say 'Forget-me-not'
but as it looked somewhat more forlorn
she promptly unearthed filled and began
to sprinkle a little H2O here and there
with her trusty old watering can
altho' some clearly may have been seen to droop
and a few of the flora nearly fade away
it did the trick and in the nick of time
she brought them back and bravely saved the day
It sounds more like a motor
Than what I would call a hum,
Though a motorbird’s not fitting
As the name that it’s become.
I first heard it at the flowerpot
Before I saw it there,
Dipping in the purple blossoms
Near my green wrought iron chair.
I’m aware that red attracts them,
Like a bull on the attack,
So the visit was surprising
Since true red my flowers lack.
Yet perhaps they can’t be choosy
As they dart and flit and dip
And a bloom that’s pink or purple
Might provide a tasty sip.
All I know is I was happy
That a hummingbird stopped by
And it doesn’t really matter
If there was a reason why.
You see all those flowers in the garden,
You like the rose more than the violets,
Sunflower seems to catch your eyes,
Marigolds never were your types,
Plucking up all those flowers you go home
and put them in the flowerpot,
You just don't want them to grow,
When those beautiful flowers turn dull and pale,
You threw them out of your house,
Flowers aren't meant to be yours,
They might seem beautiful and delicate,
But they have gone through wars,
The wind come blowing but they have stood tall,
Every night they cry themselves to forestall,
In morning they make your day bright,
Don't you dare to compare one with other,
Cause all of them are so precious and pretty,
They fill earth with elegance and sophistication,
You can't judge the beauty of black lilies with the pov of buttercups,
Love all of them, respect them,
Flowers are creations of the one above all.
A yellow moon is in the lily pond.
Stars gleam in the rain bucket.
The whole wide-open night,
like a black cat,
is curled around a flowerpot.
Flobodobba-dob? asked Bill of Ben
Dobba-flob? Ben asked Bill to repeat again
Ah!! Dobba-flobbing flobadom Bill confirmed with linguistic skill
Flobbing dobba-do dob do Ben wrote down with his Quill
Hadn't the flowerpot men heard of Google Translate
then they wouldn't have as much trouble to communicate
"Weeeeeed", "Weeeeeed" suggested their best friend little weed
but alas, the flowerpot men couldn't speak weed, so didn't take heed
Flobadobba dob dob flabba flob - they both whispered in the foyer
Dobba dobba flob - for they had come to see their lawyer
Today was an important day for both Ben and for Bill
Ben was there to witness the signing of Bill's Will
But who will inherit Bill's estate when he dies
Will the reading be full of mystery and lies
Maybe Bill actually had listened and used Google Translate indeed
for Bill's estate was all left to his friend little weed
So the morale of the story is to use Google Translate
if you want to make a deal behind the back of your mate
Bill used Google Translate to make sure he did succeed
and leave his wealth to his real best friend little weed
A smile is a curve that sets everything straight
-Phyllis Diller
Diller looks hilarious, yet she is shrewd.
gaudy shapeless wardrobe not subdued.
long and straight from lips, meanwhile -
smoke holder is vile.
Phyll’s snapshot:
SMILE.
flowerpot
on top of profile,
tremendous garden fertile:
gargoyle unkempt hair, turns up the mood.
Diller looks hilarious, yet she is shrewd.
1/19/2023
Sponsor: Constance La France
Andaree Form
lone dandelion
springing up in flowerpot
looking for a home
written September 19, 2021
Someday when my land is more fertile
And my gardener is ready to toil
I shall welcome you my precious flower
And nurture you in my soil
Faced with responsibility and emotion
Humbled by the reality of obligation
I am compelled to be a coward
Too afraid to make you my own
I am a poor and naive flowerpot
Lacking the nutrients to keep a flower
I own no tool to make your bed
Or gold enough to maintain your petals
So, keep you away I must for now
To embark on making life better
Soon on a finer day you shall return
Under a more suitable weather
For someday, my dearest one
When I am brave enough to hold you
I shall love and keep you in my bosom
And grow you with care to blossom
By: Adams Elizabeth Oyarese
Lizdiamond Poetry World
A unique and unrehearsed lullaby
That wind and storms amplify
A confined and precise ballet
That illuminate in shadow-play
A sun-kissed and bright sail
That awaits a melodic gale
A mesmerizing and relaxing thought
That sways above a flowerpot
A provoking and recalled childhood
That sleeps beneath the cottonwood
A reminder and welcomed bliss
That lazily let's us reminisce
A beloved memory from past times
That was the dance of the wind chimes
Blooming colors in shade and sun;
Fragrant elegance, not to be outdone!
In field, garden and flowerpot,
The rose, the violet, and forget-me-not.
Proud and erect upon the stem,
All who pass must notice them!
Pastels and deeps; an array of brights,
Blaze the days and scent the nights.
Preening and dancing on summer's breeze,
In days of beauty. Days of ease.
I've glimpsed them at noonday, rounding the garden wall-
Much too vain to notice me at all.
And seen them blossom in June morning's heat,
In sun washed loveliness and total conceit!
Scarlet and blue and orange and yellow,
In Red Valley. In golden meadow.
Others bloom wild on desert sand,
Disdainful of a helping hand.
An ageless beauty that none could depose-
It's just the way it goes.
Eight months ago, a white coffin was carried out
Four men in black suits ... not a shadow of a doubt
It was the priest who locked the door, nothing to think about
On the stairs next to the flowerpot with dead red clover
A yellow, dirty bowl without a drop - no sign of the owner
Small cat tracks in the snow, faithfulness on its shoulder
30/08/2019
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Writing Challenge 3, August 2019 - Six Lines
Sponsor, Dear Heart- Wiishkobi Ode
2nd place in the contest
the princess and frog
he hid in the flowerpot
her father said no
11/03/2018
Sun :) A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
howmanysyllables.com
5-7-5
3rd place in the contest
Poem of the Week : 18.03.2018
Apologies for the opprobrious actions that have been brought
For Thee, who descended from the exalted throne of Camelot
Patiently guiding and reminiscing of what has been forgot
My constituent tactics will forevermore be at naught
Ruminating and beholding rain for a garden's flowerpot
For introducing a valueless and unfruitful counter-plot
Being the barren soil, being the one who became a sunspot
Spoken before the unseen and plants encircled within earshot
The evoking morning rays of consciousness have caused some distraught
Occurred the substantial difficult admonition for one taught
Through time, traveling as a cosmonaut, change of heart, change of thought
Eons An Augenblick, please keep this seed inside the orchard’s plot
Updated 5/14/2019
The couch potato sits as he did long ago
Since video killed the radio star and
Hands that do dishes
The box in the corner
An ever morphing capitalists dream
Long since and now
It peers at us with sights and sounds
The young queen, the old queen
We can relate
Now colored on flat screen
Then the grainy image of black and white
Omo, the flowerpot men and the like
In hefty style now memorialised
In places to reminisce
Baird's time waster
An invention of all time
The couch potato sits on
He has learned much
But not much else
DRY THOUGHTS
blue mists drag out lakes
packs of past wolves
provide evidence
pointing to
double suicide
that never gets restored
entirely
ladders and paintpots
crawl through present
hardware
nailed to the edifice
of yesteryear
the termites
fail to notice
that I was their
flowerpot
© Kim van Breda—6 October 2015
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