Long Alyssum Poems
Long Alyssum Poems. Below are the most popular long Alyssum by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Alyssum poems by poem length and keyword.
Helen's brick house
was built by her grandpa James
with a specific design in mind:
the front black cross-windows
riminded one of Christ's sorrows;
when the off-white roll shades opened
the neighboors saw Helen wearing a rosette
on her blouse she herself had created
on a foot paddle sewing machine...
copying it off a Cosmopolitan magazine.
The porch's wood was cracked and faded
not a perfect dispay for begonias,
amaryllis, hydrangeas and roses
that Helen watered on drought days
to perserve them, never to be whitered
by a lack of rain when the grass yellowed.
A staircase led to her bedroom kind of mystique,
the queen bed was covered with macabre art linen sheets
and had a wrought-iron bedframe almost an antique;
often Helen heard whipers of folks who had lived
there, and she wondered if it was her imagination or dread:
" Dead people are harmelss, only living people harm others! "
No garden in that neighbohood was prittier than hers,
sweet Alyssum, purple Ageratum, white Alemone growing
under Japanese maples and strawberry trees so tempting
made it so harmonious and so lively that amazed others;
would it been complete without the merry warblings
of the canaries,of the mockingbirds and of the wrens?
The roof shingles needed replacement, they often fell down on piled logs,
and Helen stocked them up neately in a corner to save money later on;
her income was kind of low and expensive utility bills kept on coming in,
the pension her husband left her was spent on food, not on luxury goods.
When rain fell the front lawn and garden became fens able to transform
their loveliness, hundreds of leaves were left by the last tropical storm;
and Helen was saddened staring at the devastation of the lovely grass,
only the day before she got rid of those ugly weeds hiding the wild violets
and the crimson clove along the fence where birds built their nests...
I can imagine how helpless she felt seeing such devastation in minutes!
The faded timber door fought severe winters and they lasted night-long,
spring brought pleasant days, it stood open to greet their fragrance;
no thief invaded a house protected by good spirits and benevolence,
God was there and that made Helen feel at home where she belonged.
A faint perfume of lilac blooms has stirred the sleeping dawn
Bright sunlight weaves a golden loom with threads across the lawn
Crisp white-lipped Delphiniums tossed snowflakes to the hills, while
Daffodils and pink jonquils shake off the morning chill
Each violet of morning has left no stone deferred
Found growing near, a sprout appears from every seed interred!
Greeting me like candle flames, are poppies, gold and red
Hawthorne weaves a golden crown around the arbor's head!
I look long past the windowpane, and spring has bloomed anew,
just in time to see the sky revealed in shades of blue
knitting primroses in surprise! A sight long overdue!
Lost between the flagstones, alyssum, wild and free, has
mushroomed into puffs of white, competing with sweet peas!
New sprouts of cosmos spring alive in flowerbeds we've teased
On winter's lace a pansy face is smiling up at last!
Petunias in their pastel coats, are dressed like royalty
Queen of all in velvet robes, the iris crowns the grass!
Resplendent are the foxgloves…..and the dragons are a Snap!
Sweet Williams are such gentlemen, they make the morning grand
Tiger lilies brave the wind, stalking in the breeze
Under every shady tree, violas are reprieved, while
verdant shades of primrose lace wear green upon their sleeves
Wisteria's hysteria spreads levity with ease!
Xanadu is Statice "quo"……now, what more could it do?
Yarrow blooms tomorrow. I'll have to dry a few
Zinnias mean that spring has sprung, to share fresh air with you!
____________________________________________________
"Spring Is In The Air" Contest Form ..... A to Z (Abecedarian)
3/4/18
MARGUERITE’S CHARMS
Rainy day finally gave way to intermittent sun -
Walked out with camera before rain should return,
And fell in love, mesmerized, helpless, captivated.
Stopped at garden with waist-high iron railings, riveted,
And its flowers stunned me. Never knew you could get
So many blooms into a pocket-handkerchief spacelet.
Hanging baskets overpouring their petunias down
To meet roses climbing tenaciously up the trelliswork brown;
And tubs along the short path, each tub - afire and flaming
With joyful marigolds of yellow and orange - jostling
For space to get fired up and send their glow
Over the path’s six stepping stones, submerged below
Spreading alyssum and spotted lobelia, which crept
Cautiously over the bottom of the railings stepped.
But filling this mini-realm were the marguerites’ charms,
Reaching through their tiny prison’s bars into my arms,
Offering their open hands in supplication, white innocence,
Wide spread, full of generous, pure opulence :
Golden topaz seed-centres glossed with raindrop spot.
Oh I touched them as I might an uncertain cat, careful not
To spill their watery yolks. They ignored the iron bars with ease,
And begged me to pluck them, waving steadily in the breeze,
And invading the footpath outside the garden with their whirl,
Looking me in the face and smiling irresistibly like a pretty girl,
Welcoming, flirting, lovely, brushing my fingertips to invite,
Large,perfect, pristine, fragile, graceful, white.
Took some quick pictures as the rain came suddenly back there,
As it does in every head-over-heels love affaire.
Step by step, I steadily aged with time and wisdom.
I appreciatively obliged old bones to bow before kindred, king and kingdom.
Thank you mama for cleaning my snotty scum,
thank you for caring when childish tears like rivers run,
thank you for the sweet dukunu, the roasted breadfruit and the curried coconut rundung.
Thank you mama for reading Hans Anderson, and for repeating the giant’s fee fi foe fum;
thank you for the loud years of laughter and the many more to come.
Thank you Big Dee for your bald-faced lying tongue;
thank you for being the reason I fled the gruesome ghettos of Kingston.
Thank you creator for the many astounding things you’ve done:
thank you for the death of pride, this bona fide self martyrdom;
thank you Lord for my faithful consort, my daughters and my sons.
Through these streets my mind roams like fields of wild Sweet Alyssum;
these streets like colleges spiraled from the sun stirred asylum.
Dukunu is a cake made from banana and/or corn meal, coconut milk, raisins, cinnamon, nutmeg,
brown sugar, vanilla, and eggs. The dough is wrapped in steamed banana leaves and then
boiled.
Breadfruit is a large fruit that can be boiled or baked/roasted like a potato; it taste like bread
when baked/roasted.
Rundung is a sauce made from coconut and Jamaican herbs and spices.
PATHS were bordered by boxwood hedges
softened with fern, surrounding GARDEN edges.
Light floral scents perfumed the morning air
and sweet alyssum lined walkways; pea graveled.
I strolled through the MAZE with a hint of despair
for I'd never been more confused and unraveled,
or in greater fear for my own welfare
than I did standing beside the boundary WALL
that towered to heights, confoundingly tall.
Endless TWISTING trails were quite unexpected.
I cringed with timid thoughts of becoming LOST.
Forlorn from many dead end routes I'd selected
and annoyed from each fork I'd already crossed,
escape seemed to be hopeless and I felt rejected...
like a wave crashing on a sea that's storm tossed.
Now, with sunlight TURNING its warm face away,
I dropped to my knees and fervently began to pray.
I was TRAPPED inside a PUZZLE, with no way out,
winding among SINUOUS beds that roses adorned.
My mind became clouded and plagued with doubt.
Then I heard a whisper, while my heart mourned,
"Do not lose faith, Daughter. You must remain devout.
Find the courage to try once again," it mildly scorned.
I stood as twilight started painting the Eastern sky
and plucked a white rose bud as my undaunted reply.
MAZE-10 Word Challenge
Sponsored by A Dear Heart
Posted on June 28, 2020
Oh God, expand my narrow, cluttered, room!
And clear the clutter out, so I may see!
And still my Seas, as You did, Galilee!
Life threatens to collapse in, with a Boom!
Like Aspen, that arise after a fire,
Or ground-cover that sprouts from ash and dust
Or sweet alyssum permeates the must
About the room, through window of desire,
So, pray I, browse the pages of my mind,
And grope for answers to luck, fate and hope
And grub for words, and wish I were A. Pope...
There is a solace, that I sometimes find
That tells me, Love is easier than this
O! HOW can Love be EASY, when it spurs?
O! How an outside dog be free from burrs?
And yet, I know it's true! How soft the kiss
My Love gave me, that made me blow the motes
Away, swing wide the sash, let in the day...
Away! With all the piles that naysay!
And sheaves of papers bearing scribbled notes!
...Some say Tolkien, himself, could not sort well,
He lost some of the Ring in managing...
He buried his notes, his housekeeper did fling
Some part of Frodo's past? (I'll never tell!)
________
UPDATED/FIXED/REWRITTEN IN A FIT OF DESPERATION 2/22/2019
Submitted for: Enclosed Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
The Solar Spring is breathtaking sending out itself everywhere
a sense of renewal is arising, growing, budding, and blooming.
The groundbreaking is taxing the granules of rich earthen sod
as new life seeks out the world above and the waiting wonder.
Aurorean presence breaks dawn light relishing the early share
as morning spreads the atmosphere rummaging goes on below.
Snowdrops pierce a melting frost and Sweet Alyssum edges on
the blossoms of mostly white and hints of green drooping down
Further onwards the tiny flowerets of Alyssum's scent air swell
and in the rears just above ground in striking colors are pansies.
The grand boulevard of a bustling town a ways from the hey-day
as an array of color-filled flowers like Daffodils being light in color.
There are bold blue-colored Bluebonnet stems standing in rows
and immediate to them are purple Sunflowers, --they're purplish.
Scattered about is a display of different hues of tall Spider Lillies
on the whole, I'm impressed with our tiny town's achievements.
I can say that with a measure of certainty that memories serve of
Bath, Maine circa 1970 + a dog after a chicken + a town after a dog.
Towards the middle of the April the wind changes and the showers fall,
We hide under the branches of an old fir tree sheltering from the rain,
All is well as the rain sweeps across the shallow mead's rippling waters,
There is a fluorescent greenness in the grass and buds begin to open.
Walking through villages old parks over commons, heaths and meadows,
Stretching legs running over commons after a long and very hard winter,
Larks sing in the sweetest air as blackbirds swoop from grand oak trees,
A child looks amazed at the change nature makes his eyes wide as saucers.
Standing on common land flocks of goslings pale green like new catkins,
Protected by squawking and chasing parents should anything come near,
Gorse in full bloom in the leafless woods while primroses bask in the rain,
Turf on these lands are thick with violets, cowslips grow in fine meadows.
The ox lip, half primrose half cowslip begins to mature into a thick bloom,
Looking across square fields enclosed by thousand year old hedgerows,
Old orchards grass is littered with white violets side by side with daisy's,
A Purple wood spurge hangs pale-green flowers among tufts of alyssum.
Around me, a trellis, with a bounty of thorns
adorned with lush roses, and I feel I'm reborn
Awake, or a dreamland, I cannot be sure...
There are blue skies, above me, and a caress of the sun
It's as if I'm transparent, and my mind is a blur,
vague pictures, old memories, which I cannot secure
They confuse me, yet free me, from winters within
I'm out of the darkness, from the clouds of despair
The admirable beauty, impossibly soars
with a staircase of alyssum , sweet mosses, and more...
trilliums, wild ginger, sweet violets, adorned
garlands of daisies, and lavender floors
The sky is a blue sea, I want to explore
Birds sailing along, and I envy their wings
But with my eyes closed, I am flying and free!!
Wake me not, if I'm dreaming, I will rest on a star
And dream of the roses, that climb to the clouds
The voice of an angel, tells me I am allowed
to sleep with the knowledge, I can fly in my dreams
and escape to the place, where worry's not found
Around me, a trellis, with a bounty of thorns
adorned with lush roses, and I feel I'm reborn
___________________________________________________________
TIME FOR A VACATION
It is my wife’s lifelong dream, a fairytale place a magic land :
The small village of Rye in Sussex , in southern England.
This is the heart of England, its bosom -
Filled with peaceful smells of blossom :
Like a Dickens scene on christmas cards -
Steep streets with cobblestones - no cars.
Smoking chimneys, bow windows, roofs with thatches,
Hanging baskets of alyssum and lobelia in batches -
Her favorite colours white and dark blue:
I wanted to make her dream come true.
Tea and hot crumpets and warm butter oozing
By the fire in the sitting room with grandad snoozing
At four o’ clock by the chimes of the grandfather
Clock which fascinates - it’s like theatre to her.
Soft beds you sink into deeper and deeper;
Little bedrooms with floral wallpaper
She’s only seen in movies about Sherlock Holmes;
And small windows recalling our childhood homes.
We feel at ease, content like birds flown home to their loft.
View to cherry orchard trees in blossom soft
And to France on the distant sea horizon:
She gazes and thinks and daydreams on and on.