Long Begonias Poems

Long Begonias Poems. Below are the most popular long Begonias by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Begonias poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Haven

My haven is my special place to relax and unwind
Where the fragrant geraniums and begonias are divine
Blooms in colors of pinks, purples, oranges and reds
Petunias in pots and perennials in a stone walled bed

Colorful bird houses hang in the nearby trees
Bird feeders and bird baths displayed to appease
Beautiful songbirds visit to nest, drink and feed
Rare birds sometimes appear perched at the seed

I love to sit in my oversized outdoor rocking chair
While listening to birds sing in the fragrant air
My fountain trickles and makes soothing sounds
Peacefully attracting more species to my grounds

Hummingbirds zoom by as they frolic and play
Stopping to sip nectar, then quickly fly away 
My backyard is my haven and my favorite space
A place to unwind, relax and warmly embrace
Form: Rhyme


Helen's Brick House

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.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Autumn's Silent Verse

I hear the words. In autumn's silent verse
lie anapestic wafts of falling leaves
with golden syllables both bright and terse,
the crimson pluck of summer as it grieves

its loss of verdant shimmer.  In the wake
of crisp and subtle gusts the florid blades
crescendo as the sunlight comes to slake
a thirst for saffron til the morning fades

into the afternoon.  Throughout the day
as cherries black and sweet scaled up and down
the August clef these notes atonal splay
like drifting heart beats,  every verb and noun

irregular.  September's brusk intrude
has come to hold in taciturn embrace
the last of shy begonias, an etude
in bitter truth as spiders' tattered lace

lilts in wisteria.  I hear the moans
of aimless cadence rattle through the trees
as nascent winter's catechumen hones
his hiemal vespers by dead white degrees.

I can't obsess.  It's early fall, yet I
am not immune to meter in the loft
of birch unleafing to the gloaming sky.
And though the fledgling whisper is still soft

as eider I hear words.  The coarse enjambed
reprises with the start and stop of wind
presage the future of a world that's dammed
in ice without damnation of the sinned.

I can't escape the scape.  The pewter gape
of frost bound windows as October girds
for gelid isolation brings the scrape
of branches on the glass.  I hear the words.

9/9/19
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member Shape of B

Big black bugs
Beasts and 
Butterflies 
Befitting 
Betsy’s 
Beauty
Betting
Beyond 
Belief
Both
Boys 
Begin
Betting
Bigtime
Believing  beyond  belly laughs and  sunbeams
They both  traveled by boat and  bird  into Bali 
Brave buccaneers   breezing   along  brilliantly 
Bye! We  bellowed                          Big buds
Buried beside boy                          began by
Beseeching  both                           beyond a
Bigmouthed bee                           be bright? 
Boisterous bigwigs buried both basic beliefs 
Butterflies and bumblebees began blowing 
Bubbles  amid  bumper  crop  of begonias.
Form: Shape

Opening My Window To the Cool Breeze of March

My long sleep wasn't disturbed by a Mallard,
no visions of wars but of absolute serenity...
giving this body a vital boost of energy;
flowing was the blood, sound was the mind!

The green-winged Teal seemed too hungry,
and munching on a piece of bread, hurriedly
glanced and drastically feared the rangy vagrant
with a face so pale that even startled a big cat!

Opening my window to the cool breeze of March
takes the whiff of staleness out of the dim room;
observe the yellow begonias cherishing its caress...
'though perturbed by the smell of the forest Larch!
Flowers don't feel pain, neither they show gloom:
tend to them and they will display their loveliness!

I grab my pen and start composing another lyric
to describe this wonderful season that delights;
I'm glad that winter has put an end its snowy days!
Do poets choose their words according to images,
or they pop into their heads and write ditty verses
diverging from the norm of poetry that's too intrinsic?

Opening my window to the cool breeze of March...
oh, sonorous spring has arrived ending my confinement
to a glass desk with a Dell computer to find a replacement!
Does artificial intelligence offer some enlightenment?
Not all cope with loneliness: dramatic was the fate of Lach;
how many of us have used extreme measures to stay afloat?
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Deadhead Epilogue

Now that Crazy-Fingered rain
Has begun to fall
The Terrapins have all left the Station,
Will we remember in joy
The Dreamtime they made,
As we wind our ways home
In respectful elation?

I do believe that Allah sang the blues
When the fat man that showed us all a good time
Left to join Black Peter, Stephen
All those Circumstantial Saints.
Now He's Gone, to that Brokedown Palace
On Shakedown Street,
Where Janice sings and Picasso paints.

Uncle John has herded all his children home,
Where Browneyed Women pet China Cats
Come in from the sunflower fields.
Got to get back Truckin' on,
Back to those Lazy Gates
Where all the secrets wait
To be revealed.

Somewhere still the kids all dance
And shake their bones,
In some Cosmic band the Master plays;
The stars spin dizzy and the candles drip
They all Love Each Other
And their Captain Trips.

So may we all meet together on The Golden Road,
All prophets, all poets, all lovers and friends;
Where the Scarlet Begonias and Sugar Magnolias
Will all bloom alive in our memories again
And the Dark Star will shine
As the great Riddle unwinds,
Our day at last over and done.

Remember, dear travelers, all roads have an end;
The last card must be drawn and dropped.
Still the sweet sounds linger on, as always they will,
For the Music     Never     Stopped.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Lawn Mowing Wars

The thick numerous shoots of grass have come out,
no more snow shovels til late autumn comes about.
I hear the robins chirp as they tend their nests,
wait....the sound of a cranky lawn mower chugging
to life from its winter's rest!
Quickly, dear, go out and mow before everyone else
does!
our yard needs to look perfect, 'cuz-
the neighborhood spring lawn mowing wars have
just begun,
it's quite serious, not so much fun.

Yard envy is so common in our subdivision,
The HOA "Yard Of The Month" prize brings derision.
If the young couple who just moved in across the
street think their landscaping is the best,
my roses and begonias will put them to the test.

Hubby can't start the riding mower,
he's cursing its parentage midst dandelions
and clover.
The other men in the cul-de-sac are already
halfway done,
as their wives bring out iced tea for them
under the strong sun.
Well, well, tomorrow is the neighborhood
block party,
I've already made an array of warm weather
dishes so hearty,
My potato salad and baked beans will surely
be the envy of the other cooks,
it is in the good 'ol American spirit-
to compete and be a smug schnook!  ~
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member My Garden

I have a garden where roses and colorful orchids bloom and blush
Petunias, begonias and flaming euphorbia on each other brush
Where jasmines perfume the air and chrysanthemums flourish
They adorn my courtyard giving my eyes a joyful treat
They survive the season, braving summer’s blistering heat. 
With their beauty and scent they conquer every sensitive heart

When watering them, all they do is nod and shake
Some dance upon their tiny toes, when from their languor awake
With crimson bosom bathed in dew, the roses gently quake
Desert roses with their scarlet flowers and fat bellies stay, 
In tiny pots where they are fated to remain all their life at bay
I see their lips parting in pain, complaining in a dumb way

At the center, stands a bougainvillea plant in attention
It grows wild with its branches spread in all direction
Though I try to prune it often to prevent its insurrection
Nonchalantly it continues to grow forming a wild bower
It carries many a bunch of red and magenta paper light flower
Which glide down with every passing breeze in scattered shower

Oh flowers, with your loveliness, all tired eyes you brighten
With your matchless beauty, our joy, you heighten
With your radiant smile, all cares, you lighten
Alas!  You vanish fast as the setting sun’s slanting ray
I will be in pain if you are not there to brighten my day
So kindly stay....! Please do not wither away!

March.11. 2022

~Placed First~

Garden Inspiration’s Poetry Contest
Sponsor- BJ Legros Kelley
Form: Rhyme

Island of Fantasy

There many beautiful islands
lovers can visit for a sentimental escape;
I must choose that one you never explored
before: that magical one you'll come to love eternally!

We'll sail away to the peaceful island of Capri,
the jewel of the Mediterrenean Sea;
with eyes and faces lifted against
the warmest sun: our wishes can be granted instantly!  

And strolling through the narrow streets
adorned with roses, geraniums and begonias:
this is the paradise sought by all dreamers,
and in it we must live our glorious, eternal moments!

Sitting on a balcony hovering above
the splendid sea with white, red and blue boats:
we'll look out to the twinkling horizon
to spot our evening star rise and shine over us 'till morning!  


Written on 6/5/2016

Premium Member Oh Captcha Squares

Oh captcha squares, oh captcha squares
What are these objects in your frames?
Oh captcha squares, oh captcha squares
Why must they gotta be the same?

    Cars and busses, traffic lights
    Bicycles and motor bikes
    Crosswalks, signs, and steps and stairs
    Fire hydrants everywhere        

    Boats, planes and parking meters 
    Tickets, fines, misdemeanors
    Why are you so fond of these?
    Why are palms the only trees? 

Oh captcha squares, oh captcha squares
The pictures trapped inside of there
Oh captcha squares, oh captcha squares
Depict a world so bleak and bare

   Arid, bland, unaesthetic
   Barren, drab, unpoetic
   Sterile, cold, antiseptic
   Unconcerned, apathetic 
   
   Somber, sad, and desolate 
   Woeful, bland, pedestrian
   Weary, grim, dreary, hopeless
   Grainy, gray, out of focus 
 

It doesn’t need to be this way…

Many things could fill your squares
Why not fill these things in there?

   Tambourines and castanets 
   Bass trombones and clarinets
   English horns and piccolos
   Harpsichords and xylophones

   Fiddles high and Irish whistles
   Jingle bells and finger cymbals
   5-string banjos, mandolins
   Saxophones, accordions

   Desmond Tutu and Mandela
   Cassius Clay, Cinderella
   Charlemagne and Genghis Kahn
   George and Ringo, Paul, and John 

   Twain and Edgar Allan Poe
   Wayne and Brando and Monroe
   Ida Wells, Frida Kahlo
   Steinem, Parks, and Ferraro

   River Thames and stormy seas
   Winter wrens and bumble bees
   Cyprus, ash, oak, fir, and pine
   Sassafras, willow, and lime

   Daffodils and magnolias
   Marigolds and begonias
   Cabbage, beets, and potatoes
   Carrots, beans, and tomatoes

Oh Captcha Squares, Oh Captcha Squares
If your pictures must remain
Oh Captcha Squares, Oh Captcha Squares
How aboutcha change the frames?

   Captcha circles, captcha suns
   All the captcha olygons
   Wiggly captcha twiggly lines
   Twisty captcha twiny vines 
  
   Captcha diamonds, captcha hearts
   Captcha clovers, moons, and stars
   Captcha ribbons, Captcha lace
   Captcha colored string bouquets

Oh Captcha Squares, Oh Captcha Squares
We understand you're here to stay.
Oh Captcha Squares, Oh Captcha Squares
Just be more creative, OK?
Form: Rhyme

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