Long Annuals Poems
Long Annuals Poems. Below are the most popular long Annuals by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Annuals poems by poem length and keyword.
A paradise of natural nature bouquets displayed:
of yellow, orange, pink, red roses of redolent scented phase.
Lilies, tulips, daisies, daffodils and violets are of bountiful blooms
All these have enchanted scents of fresh fragrant perfumes cues;
bringing love interludes.
On the countryside, new scents of morning-glory flowers are new:
wildflowers are there with colorful shades and hues.
By a home flower orchids, geraniums and marigolds do soothe.
Pinned are carnations at shoulder height level views.
Rhododendron and impatiens of the color purple do muse.
Bowing down their heads are of yellow and white sunflowers to you.
Their seeds are a delightful protein fuel.
Azalea, buttercups, mums, lilacs; soften the mood.
Springtime, summertime and fall-time
has botanical flower gardens with gala venues.
Flowers and bees intertwine to produce pure delicious honey.
Flowers for us are an in-depth botany study.
A local natural land treasury of perennials and annuals do resume.
Dried flowers are preserved as a uniquely lovely tribute.
These are to have for five to seven lasting enjoyable years, to share.
A Green thumb is awarded to the most flowery flower gardens here.
Purposely pluck pretty prickly prime red roses and white lilies for a vase: and then give them to a pretentious precocious loved member.
This a loving memory that will last in everyone heart story.
These are of the "lively lovely flowers in prom,"
Those in one's hands and on upon all lands.
Yet, of all of these: they are but a small reflection of the true, prettiest flower of them all.
The "Rose of Sharon," this who is Jesus, the Christ, the Lovely Lord. The creator of all flowers of whom, I do most admire and adore.
We are gathered
Each and everyone
Honouring the forefathers
Glorifying every man
The mothers and fathers
Who made a stand
Paving a path, telling a story
Of how it began
Of ancient Kemet
Our homeland, the motherland
Told in oral history
Then cast in stones
Diluted by the Vatican
At a conference in Nicosia
Under the guidance of Rome
In strife and victories
We must understand
The causes and reasons
The Explanations
That there is a lesson to be learnt
That what is happening now
Has happened before
When we open our eyes and mind
We should realize
We must record our history
In the hall of fame
Celebrating
Our heroes name
Markus Garvey had a plan
The unite Africans
Those from across the oceans
Those in distant lands
But his dream is now in smoke
When consciousness had gone
On a walkabout
When identity has taken a shock
From European imagery and press attack
We are branches
From the trees
Broken in storms
Shedding its leaves
In far flung places
Where ever we roam
We are blessed by the divinity
And cursed by no one
In suffering and tribulations
We must understand
That the heroes who had gone on before
Paved a path to our existence
Opening doors
Through sacrifices and commitment
That with unity and purpose
We replicate the ethos
By keeping focus
And reclaim our place
In the annuals
In our halls of fame
Celebrating our heroes name.
This poem was written for Black Heroes Foundation, an organization which is dedicated to telling African History through artistic performances.
Transition
There is a small window of time
when September’s sun-fired air
must welcome and share
the apple-crisp breath
of imminent October
we soak up the last of
a summer-season palette
and invite the autumn blend
skin delights under a shawl of
warm, then cool, warm, cool
flirty swimsuits sag sadly
heading back to their winter stations
bright sweaters emerge
flailing their arms in jubilation
perennials get a fresh winter cut
annuals hold on to life as long as possible
the yellow spider spins her web
proudly attaching herself to
everything on the deck.
one can only smile when waking up
to an outrageously gorgeous morning.
Green and blue and yellow
radiates around my shell.
Cool warmth radiates from my skin.
Goodness and gentleness and kindness
orate from the tubes.
All is calm and well
yet within is indifference.
Evil me contained inside, why?
Once temptation now torturous desire.
The perennials of the sound garden wither,
while the annuals unwantingly thrive.
Even the evergreens of new cannot
overcome those well aged.
The conscious playground beckons
for the grown children to return.
Inside Henry and Mary still heard,
"come play and visit"
Need a garden strong with perennials.
Need to have Henry leave the playground.
Yellow and green must penetrate me.
Evil me seals my gut.
Evil wrapped with love
Is it in all?
There was a Red Indian Chief
his name was Raging Waters
he lived a pleasant life
surrounded by his four wives
They took care of all his needs
gave him strong sons and daughters
he ruled mainly in peace not war
apart from raids on the Black Hawks
It was one of his joys to sneak up
and steal their very fine horses
and to capture some of their squaws
these he could trade for guns and whiskey
As time went on he grew very troubled
he consulted with the medicine man
who sent him to the hot bath teepee
there smoking his pipe he relaxed
Soon the visions started to appear
war was on the horizon he could see
also a squaw so comely he lost his heart
he left the teepee and sent out scouts
They scoured the lands searching for her
at last one came back with the news
she belonged to the Crows and was promised
gathering up a raiding party, he set off
At dead of night they sneaked into position
then rushed the camp catching the Crows off guard
they killed the warriors and took the squaws,
children and horses too and well tanned hides
Now there had to be a comeback from this deed
Mighty Hawk gathered his tribes of Crows
and set off for Raging Waters camp for revenge
barely escaping he fled for the mountains
There with just a handful of warriors and squaws
he set out to build up the tribe once more
when at last they had enough warriors
he set out to recapture that beautiful squaw
Never had he forgotten her soft lips on his
driven wild by his desire, he lost all caution
warned by his medicine man it would end badly
he paid no heed and set out to make war
The Crows soon heard he was on his way
and set a terrible trap in between the hills
Raging Waters and his warriors were cut down
the unlucky ones were scalped then given to the squaws
Who beat them and treated them harshly as slaves
thus a lesson was learned do not take promised squaws
Raging Waters name was in time lost in the annuals
his tribe no more, just forgotten ghosts in time
inspired by soup mail chat with Sandra
Marigolds are supposed to reseed themselves
And so they do, as do roses and other perennials
Weeds of course are notorious for reseeding themselves
I have renegade trees all over my yard too, with red berries.
No idea what they are called.
Mums go to seed, and I never know if they will come back or not.
Some have come back, others have never come back.
Some people rake away the chaff from autumn
I never do, optimistic that some of my plants will reseed themselves
I am the only person I know who sometimes sees annuals come up the next year
I attribute this to hope, optimism, and love.
Sweet 16, Sealed in Wax
Nothing compares, can't hold a candle,
To our togetherness in love,
Hand in hand we share our "One-dle",
As a ship in harbor, we nestle in our cove!
Nothing's like sweet sixteen,
Enamored , married & matched to Barbara,
"Aishes Chayil" humble yet royal queen,
She has "tzniusly" survived Chaim's parabola!
16 annuals as one, traditionally one gifts wax,
Not diamonds nor strings of pearls,
Our companion hood Bananagrams max,
Together, our joy unfurls!
Also known as Blooma Yehudis,
"Blossom of Thankfulness" is her label,
Such crocus lotus presence is greater than Buddha's,
Barbara's loyal! Her love sturdy as a cable!
Sweet 16 flies by like an arrow,
Bezrat Hashem, we'll be together for many more,
This verse is composed in Chaim's marrow,
There's affection aplenty yet in store!
Barbara's put up with O.C.D. plus Ataxia,
How? Chaim in gratitude, quietly thunders & wonders,
Worse than raining "Cats & Dogs", worse than "Hailing Taxis",
Barbara patiently endures Chaim's blatant blunders!
Frilly edges of Autumn's last peonies are in bloom along my garden fence. They dance on stately stems; pink skirts ruffled at their hems. Soon, they will fade and wither when Winter's blustery winds take their toll. But, beneath the frozen ground, bulbs of annuals are sleeping, safe and sound. With the thawing in Spring, tulips and jonquils will rise above the snow and gardens will grow. Alive again with beautiful colors. Azalea, primrose and wisteria blossoms will thrive. Wafting on subtle breezes, will be the sweet scent of magnolia.
in winter's farewell
spring breathes in living color ~
flowers bud at will
I always anticipate the season's rebirth as it awakens early blooms and their temptingly perfumed aroma to attract pollinating bees. Flaxen hued wildflowers spread across verdant fields on stems waving in the air on a warm gentle breeze. There is a yield of pink and yellow buttercups, ebbing and flowing like restless tides on rolling seas. There are few things more beautiful than gardens and meadows in full bloom. There will be climbing roses entwining on a trellis and rows of sunflowers reaching for the sun. "Let the flowers grow again," is Mother Nature's command!
in gardens and fields
grand profusion of flowers ~
heaven scented gifts
We traverse the annuals since our youth, from a trek out the door and home to some floor, ere twilight dethrones from its crown, and bequeath it to the dominating dawn, my will-o-the-wisp does admit me into its innovative prime time,
Wherein, we sever out our preceding year of its difficulties and distress, and gift this current sequence amidst healthier days and to a greater contented life, admittedly, with our ablest foot foremost, we scale our calendrical passage amongst prosperity and efficiency,
These appropriate purposes remain considerably beneficial and welcomed by us, furthermore, we pray for the safety and security of our country and the world as a whole, and allow the flags of freedom rise high, and the flags of darkness disperse forever.
2020 January 03 *2nd Place*
New Year Dreams Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
*Image of Winners of Connecting by Pixabay
Close Encounters of the Best Kind
Anon celebrations plumb us adjusts,
preceding months were more compatible,
familial presence friends superfluous,
plain chat wheedles a bit less fragmental,
pooled consciousness markup valuable,
fruitful homily affect harmony,
ripes present blooms extended courtesy,
besieged turkey banquet crowds Christmas trees,
stanch observance occasions normalcy,
camaraderie and oneness appease.
Tis the choice of annuals hails bonus,
each control themselves appropriately,
contrasts ne'er build or they'd be a Jonas,
dovetail twirls a sensitive filigree,
our kindred tree naught a Genesis tree,
naught muddled rundowns so microscopic,
yarns curled scripts that were kaleidoscopic,
ensnared eyes courteous ears learn the spiels,
showpiece manifest substantive topic,
closing in prayer banks where heaven deals.
2021 November 03