Larkspur Poems | Examples

Deconstructing July

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Julio:Juillet:Luglio:Juli
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Quintilis
Julis Caesar
Dog days
Ruby
Larkspur
Water lily
Cancer>>Leo

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Field of Forgiveness

Come to the field of forgiveness
when you are feeling low.
If negativity nags at you,
you need to let it all go.

Let go of your bitterness.
Bluebells will beckon to you.
These meadow empaths feel your pain.
Your soul they will renew.

Lie down near lovely flowered spaces.
Take a whiff of the fragrance of
lilac, lavender and larkspur.
Breathe the pure scent of love.

Lay down anger and hatred.
Hostility you must release
if you want to know in life
happiness and peace.

Kneel beside white lilies and
offer up a heartfelt prayer.
Touch the petals of roses red.
Feel the good Lord’s care.

Compassion toward those who hurt you
in your heart you will sow
when you visit the field of forgiveness
where the greatest miracles grow.

Maud

Torn skirt billowing behind you
like a parachute,
you fell,
           fell,
for the telescoped eternity
of two seconds.

The pond turned its blind eye
to the sky,
and the shuddering gate
swung shut.

No one was talking.

Next day, the sun stirred
the larkspur into bloom again.

A rambler saw the flattened weeds,
suspected a fox,
and poked around for feathers.

They found your body later:
drowned in the darkness of the wood.
And raped,
or so the papers said.

‘A rendezvous with death’
was how one writer put it.

The police are looking for a man in black.


First published in Landfall, New Zealand

Lake Side Birch Trees

   I could look at this painting
      forever, oh Klimt was a talent
lake side with birch trees is where I would like to be
      beside the dappled blue still water . . . 
         picking yellow buttercups
bluebells and purple larkspur growing wild, oh beautiful
        oh dream
          so sublime

    Klimt takes me away
      to a serene place in my mind
to a divine green dream of nature and tranquility
      but the painting-  I must leave behind
         for I think the gallery would miss it . . . 
though when days are rainy and I am forlorn, I always go
        to view
           the beauty painted

larks hiku

larks soar autumn's sky

as sun follows prairie rain . . .

wild larkspur sparkles

Bloom Doom

hemlock
a shock

foxglove
no love

orchid
morbid

wolf’s bane
insane

larkspur
bad blur

glory
gory

sumac
step back

laurel
quarrel

bloodroot
a brute

jimson
no fun

bella
donna

monkshood
not good

rhubarb
grim garb

flower
power

Early Summer In the Meadow

Taking my first summer stroll in the meadow,
I marveled at the new growth and flowers
The sun was shining full blast, not a single shadow
My mind rummaged through its ivory towers.
Wild carrot and cosmos were in full bloom
Along with larkspur and bright columbine,
Tempting me to pick for my living room
But I demurred, not to disturb the natural
Habitat for the critters, pollinators for the bees
Seeing in them something awesomely spiritual,
I headed for the woodland line of trees.

Surprisingly, someone has set up a salt lick
I wonder, this being a wildlife sanctuary
Surely no hunting, it hit me like a brick,
I thought it so entirely unnecessary.
Surely not here...a deer hunter's nasty trick.
An afternoon so filled with joy and promise
Suddenly was overshadowed with awful thoughts,
I quicky turned and headed toward the house,
My stomach churning, gut tied up in knots.
I shall complain of this infraction to authorities,
Next thing I know, they'll be chopping down trees. 

Written June 3, 2022
[Last year partial fencing was a scare;
Now hunting? They wouldn't dare!]

The Perfect Place

Soon spring wildflowers will appear
Red Larkspur in the meadow near,
And sweet honeysuckle blooming
With birch twigs ready for brooming
All to the stroller bring good cheer.

Strolling through the meadow I find
A peace enhanced with beauty rare,
The perfect place to say a prayer*
Where one may come to clear the mind,
And leave one’s worries far behind.

written March 1, 2022
(prayer is a one-syllable word
where I come from)

The Meadow Is Greening

The meadow is greening, a little each day
Buds are beginning to swell with anticipation,
Small, furry creatures are appearing to play
The meadow is greening, a little each day.
Soon the larkspur will appear in full array,
As I stroll through with fond admiration
The meadow is greening, a little each day,
Buds are beginning to swell with anticipation.

As I stroll through with fond admiration
The meadow is greening, a little each day
Soon the larkspur will appear in full array,
Small, furry creatures are appearing to play
Buds are beginning to swell with anticipation
I cannot conceive of a more lovely location.

written February 22, 2022
[a Trionet, fusion of the repeated lines
of a triolet with the 14-lines of a sonnet,
a poetry form I invented.]

Morning Glory

As dawn undressed the night,
putting the purples of sorrow to flight.
It started to paint an horizon new,
in burnished golds of every hue,
that streaked the heavens and edged each cloud
with fire that danced and billowed proud.
Heralding a bright new day 
that blew the sullen nights cobwebs away
and lasered light into Earths dark corners,
to gladden the hearts of cynics and mourners.
And Oxeye daisies raised their heads,
whilst sweet campion and larkspur stirred in their beds
and drank the dew the night had bestowed,
as field and meadow softly glowed
in that tranquil, thankful morning light,
that broke each day and banished the night.

It's July

O Ruby; you are my resuming red

Red, the heart of the gemstone
Symbol of love and passion
Comes to the path of romance
Takes the soul gratefully at a glance

Fountain of July torrential rain
Within rhythmic welcome sane
Dearly drenching nibbling grass
Where we're for the rabbit nurse

Rain kisses the dog, the barbed wire fence,
The floodlights of night, where camera lens
Sieges your dancing through neon lights
And silhouette of heart phantom behind

No sun and no moon there are
Days fairness and nights darkness desire
Unstoppable life force in dripping
From your scented body of evergreen

Maiden tulips and lotus on your soaked cloths
Cheerfully greet wild reunion with the inner smooth

Bluish-purple the larkspur far alone
The water lily on the brimfull pond
Bonding a grove of amorous eyes
With the red wine and craving ties

Warm and burning warm everywhere
Deaths and deceptive virus also snare
Soggy mind in the beat of window
Hearing the weep of Leo born widow

10.07.2020 Chattogram

Dream

Dream
In the realm of realistic eyes or surreal
And there are you, prevailing all my sense 
My girl, the charismatic beauty of world
On the blooming bud of the Eden garden
Flying with the butterfly's wings
Through the aromatic hydrocarbons of scent
Exotic thy smiles with white diamond teeth 
Luscious lips on the breeze kissing
O no hypnotic mango juice there is to melt
But my heart to feel you like the furnace flame
Through the July raindrops
With the bluish-purple larkspur...

Dream
Still I dream you
Like the Venus rising from the white foam of earthly water
O my girl, to your coming the dream is wanderer

09.07.2020 Chattogram

July-My Favourite Month

I have an ardent attachment with July,
Coz me and my partner share our born days 
This month ~for love on each other we rely.

Monsoon seems to be high, hoping to satisfy
Nature showers whole heartedly, as it sprays
I have an ardent attachment with july

"July" named by the Roman Senate, to imply
The birth of Julius Caesar, for giving honour it says
This month ~for love on each other we rely

Larkspur and water Lily are in largest supply,
Blossoms absolute bond of love, prevents frays
I have an ardent attachment with july

Meditating in dark, about him who is in Dubai, 
Refusing to message & enquire regarding holidays
This month~for love on each other we rely

Sitting in two different countries, we ally
Thinking of past memoirs always
I have an ardent attachment with july.
This month~for love on each other we rely.

 Villanelle  form with rhyme scheme:
A1 b A2 / a b A1 / a b A2 / a b A1 / a b A2 / a b A1 A2.

Written on 27-6-2020.

Note1:Month of the year that I like most poetry Contest.(N/A)
Judged on 18-7-2020

Note2:STRAND COMPLETELY NEW (24) ,any form,
any theme Poetry Contest(N/A)
Judged on 19-8-2020

A Coloring Book

The green song of Spring. A coloring book - the pages fluttering.
Pastel azaleas blooming. Violet hyacinths hug a vertical space.
Lemony tulips with lavish leaves. Iris cycloglossa ~ lilac, yellow, blue.
A felicitous field of larkspur. Petrichor and dewdrop bliss. Sunkisst!

4/3/2020

Larkspur Wish

Why did men long ago sing to the skies
When they burned hot with scorching honeyed flame
When the graphite waters began to rise
Why did their hope remain ever the same?
Did they inspire sweet, naïve Juliet
Who begged sharp, bleeding dawn to never shine?
Are they the larkspur wish for dead moonset
That Romeo made for his lover fine? 
For love, they so desperately hope, alters
The fingers, bladed hands, of cruel time
Like mortal words could change the universe—
But to challenge stars, is that not a crime?
     For if my lips bleed when you I speak of
     How can worlds be changed by mere poppy love?

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