Iris Poems

The Iris

It stands tall
proudly pointing to the sky
reaching high toward the sun
with hints of purplish blue peeking through

Buds open ever so gently
cautious shy and humble
unsure at first of their regal stature
unaware of their innate majesty

The iris parades its generous petals
ample and graceful
floating graciously
with carefree elegance

Poised amidst the garden
the iris is remarkably unaware
of its astonishing beauty

My Horn Iris Haiku

My Horn Iris Haiku

when with my iris
happened to be at IRS
many surprises

The perfect pairing

today i bought
a small bouquet
six long stems
of tender buds
in vivid blue

as luck
would have it
the day before
i'd bought a tall
and slender vase
never thinking
the two were
destined for
each other

the bouquet
slid into the vase
like it was
meant to be
a rare elegance
i'd rarely seen

so here we are
in awe
admiring
six irises
in their
graceful
ballerina
pose


AP: Honorable Mention 2025

Blue Iris

blue is wild iris
like the skies of racy clouds
or berries that tempt

sunshine's companion
since mulberry hours of dawn
when scents greeted song

carefree is iris
like warm wind, whistling all day
lovely disarray

blind iris

"blind iris"


my ire is
i'm not Eyre

to be loved 
mechanically

molded mason
maiden made

methodically mad

can't you tell she 

is a she 
demon not 

a demon
is she

for
she

frantic

pray

prey on
dreams of 

dreamt of what 
you were and what

you would like 
and love to 

be

me

Some Other Poet, White Iris

“Some Other Poet, White Iris”

When I look in the mirror what do I see?
I question existential questions and fiction, 
my eyes are the eyes of another staring back at me,
perceived through the glassy tear film that separates us
glides another life in a timeless place where observant,
that Other watches within that strange oculum holding pen,
a shadow

Artificial Iris

"Artificial Iris"


Orwell was lurking in the background, somewhere;
the dream was eerily familiar, 
the words and their meanings, read in Syntax,
once read between pages of hardcopy in school 
were aptly ignored - 

however, 
our Overlords were seen 
not to be feared, but très cool

sleep no longer offered an escape, 
and awake was the nightmare 
in electric

Shreves Iris

If you are a gardener who likes to mess with iris
And you are lucky enough to have a winning combination
No one else has every created and shown before
You might be like Ralph Shreve from the Ozarks
His gorgeous purple and yellow iris is named after him
Shreve’s iris, best in show

Flags

Flags    

Such a delicately beautiful flower
With a subtle refined and heavenly scent.
It stands above the others like a tower
And its sweet perfume into the air is spent.
Though it doesn’t have a great deal of power
It leaves most everyone peacefully content.
It adorns gardens of houses everywhere
And is planted in graveyards to show folks

My Name Is Iris

I like roses, lilies, cactuses, and other beautiful
flowers that display their blossoms most of the year.
I like red, white, pink, and even bright yellows.
I like all flowers, birds, bees, and green trees.

I'm different from others, but I like myself too.
God made us all to be ourselves and do our best,
and like His entire creation, to

The Stately Iris Flower

The Stately Iris Flower

Bearded irises are tall and stately in form
They grow from rhizome sculptured leaves through a storm
Standing stiffly upright or curving at the tips
A swollen stem where nutrients are stored at the hips
Spring growth occurs, and then irises take a rest
Further growth accruing very hard-pressed
Leaf fans upward and roots downward in the soil
Rhizomes

Iris Days

Iris Days

Down there in winter
In Landstrasse quarters
Blankets of clouds
And the streets filled with waters

Darkness covers the city
In the hours of night
And no bird
Seems to be there 
Or live there abide

Bare are the trees
That are standing beside
When a candel on window
appears as a bride

The buildings are ancient
For us to uphold
Vienna, the city,
Is life to be told

Keep hope close This iris reminds me

Keep hope close 
(This iris reminds me)
By Michelle Morris
20/01/2024

This iris reminds me
To keep hope close to my heart
Let it bloom and spread the Light
Inspire my healing and my wholeness 

The symbolism is historic
Nobility, trust and valour
Hope and wisdom for us all
As flowers hold eternal power

This iris is so magical
As Nature's blessings are wont to be
I

January 4th, 2007

I turned ten two days ago,
I blew out the candles with a heavy sigh.
You were born today,
Still.

Your lips inherited 
The reddest hue of cardinal feathers,
Your rice paper skin
Pale and soft, fresh as silken snow.

I never knew what your eyes looked like
They never opened
Infinite iris colors
Never to be discovered

When I held you in my arms,
The guiding

painting the iris

Is it a tough job? Asked the brownies and faeries that day.
The elf did not answer, he was painting his petootsie away.
The Iris that were finished looked gorgeous indeed.
Too bad in the autumn they will all go to seed.

Do you also paint tulips? A butterfly came by to say.
Busy mixing paint colors, he did not

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