Long Bluebonnet Poems
Long Bluebonnet Poems. Below are the most popular long Bluebonnet by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bluebonnet poems by poem length and keyword.
The napkins were cut and woven in her dad’s barn that he and his dad built from the broken oaks.
Each clump of cotton piled up in front of her
Leave and left
She thought
The warp was fixed on her loom
And that was easy because it stayed
But the weft was the lateral thread that moved
Leave and left
The barn was brown and gray, yellowed with hay
And dotted with specks of cotton that she lay
She was 12. She argued with her mom to wear her newest Easter dress for work that day.
She was crying as her little hands worked the loom.
She was thinking about the rock she found under the wheel of a stuck cart trying to pass by on the sandy road by the green border of her farm house.
She had removed it earlier that day so the boy driving his horse carriage could go on and get unstuck. She cried because she loved him.
She never wanted him to be stuck, so she untucked the rock from his cart. It was as tortuous as the itchy bits of cotton she forced together.
She could hear his cart still leaving in the wadded cotton she was weaving
The sun oranged the weft
in its movement from right to left
That she made as she wept
It was time for dinner. And her mother had cooked a meal.
So she folded the napkins
And sat perfectly in her bluebonnet dress in front of the cotton napkins
Ready to be opened again.
Myrtles in the mist
Sunlight streaming in
An ethereal presence
A rainbow of tapestry
Little light purple star flowers
In the ink green darkness
At the heels of the eucalyptus woods
A lavender lullaby, wordless
Bluebonnet faces shady with sleep
A hum of a psalm that is all life throbbing
Earth in constant motion
An ocean cradle rocking for centuries
Apocalypse forever renewed
When dew becomes jewel
And frost sews its lace
A crochet of vines
Embroidery of mosses and flora
Scent and sound
Fragrant rustling of the eucalyptus
On the salt-sea breeze
Swept off from the dunes
The last twinkle in the dusk
Quiet flower heads lie in wait
Of some ancient memory
That may never exist
For some long-forgotten harmony
And heartbreak
Washed in on some far-off shore
When the mist of the morning
And the mist of the dusk
Are indistinguishable
When both command and instill
A hush and halt
A mind-clouding gas
Mesmerize and harmonize
Some mists are eternal
Some a passing glance
Emotions and myrtles go hand in hand
The mists are the spirits of the earth
Myrtles are a lullaby
The evening prayer that glows within.
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.
Zinnia Grandiflora a golden beauty
Yellow Prairie Coneflower conical cutie
Xerophilous plants designed to survive
Waterlily attached to bottom soil to stay alive
Venus Fly Trap grows wild in marshes
Ulmus grows wild along with birches
Texas Bluebonnet cover fields with hyacinth like joy
Shasta Daisy white and yellow who could ask for more
Rocket Larkspur projecting a backwards spur
Queen Anne's Lace root add to pot and stir
Purple Coneflower helps strengthen the immune system
Oriental Poppies held captive by morn's dew glisten
Nasturtium are symbols of conquest or of charity
Maximilian"s Sunflower withstands weather's serverity
Lemon Balm Mint lovely the citrus scent
Kalmia Carolina reaches to mountain ascent
Johnny Jump-Up a delightful surprise
Indian Blanket Flower a short lived prize
Hollyhock short-lived six to eight foot beauties
Globe Gilia blue clover-like cuties
Foxglove's foxy tubular but poisonous flowers
Evening Primrose has been used for food and medicinal powers
Desert-Marigold a blessing and curse
Chocolate Cosmos fills the air wth scents to nurse
Black-Eyed Susan Rudbeckia a delightful fall addition
Annual Baby's Breath to end a southern garden tradition
Inspired by John Lawless' contest First Ever ZYX Contest
Written: October 10, 2015
A mixture of wildflowers and other flowers and ideas..
Round and round I go
Unfolding my spirit of envy and gold
The nascence of a new stone
Hazel room, vibrant lilac sky,
Deep orange haze in a tender place
Arms of sapphire and cornflower blue
Fuchsia beauty drips, covering my ruby lips
All colors drift
On the first day, we met
Visions of dark slate-gray fade away
Firing up the new-age gem
Turning and creating different stars
Magic mint skies
White antique petals follow the current of air
Opal dreams, clouds embedded with impurity
My heartbeat produces flashing colors
The palest amethyst bluebonnet forever fields
Flawless tear-drop streams
Diamond shaped love
Ruby Red promises to keep
Flowing into the deep
Every color spins new
The day I fell in love with you
Peridot lime green tint
A love as old and gray
Olive brownish sun
Honeydew skin
Our future, deeper than aquamarine
Every day you turn fresh new seasons in me
Changing the sequence in my colors and effect
Kaleidoscope Eyes
Reflect by the mirrors of you
Crystallizing everything
She tinkers change someone left on the table
waiting for brunch at the Bluebonnet Bistro,
a hole in the wall with thick on the windows.
Lost deep to thought, this rock ‘n roll liberal
in her mid-twenties and sage satin stole,
pockets a penny that weighs down the satchel
strapped to her shoulder and swung under table,
asway just above cherry red laced stilettos.
From a corner booth table, a sitting man stares
an impertinent stare at her pendulum satchel
and long dangled legs that sway to a torso
wrapped tight in proof of a Wolf Parade show
back in twenty fourteen - unable to go
back down below where he yearns to obey
all known from each of each one of her toes.
12/20/2018
A poem about the diminishing return of memories as they're reduced and bid bare by time using an abbreviated variation of the sestina form.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am a thousand violet tongues
licking the wind, silently bending
beneath the blistering Texas sun.
I unfurl where the highway
forgets its name,
where the sky
presses down like a warm hand.
I am not regal;
I am not obedient~
I am a wildflower,
a spill of indigo
against the thirsty Texas earth.
I do not beg. I do not bow.
Only nod~
a friendly howdy
when the pickup trucks rumble past,
kicking up the Texas dust
that settles like old prayers.
The cattle low at my presence,
their hooves careful, almost reverent.
Wind bends me; I bow back.
Rain comes; I drink deep.
At dusk, my petals close like fists~
small, stubborn prayers.
Each spring, I return.
I open~
a rebellion of color.
I am not delicate. I am patient
I am waiting
for you to pull over,
to kneel in the dirt next to me
and take a picture with me~
a Texas tradition.
I am the lupine that remembers
the Comanche horses,
the oil rigs,
rodeos, and
the subdivisions
creeping like frost.
When they pave this field,
I will rise through the cracks, for
I am as defiant as Texas.
I am the Texas’ state flower.
I am the bluebonnet.
Plow horse neighing with the bending of clay
,, humble hands silently giving thanks to the rain.
Petals flashing, bumble-flyers kneading nests
till death do they part or when fate slashes the breast.
School 79 unchained this child from the grind
as an ice cream truck jingled with sundial time.
Bronzed dreams caressing an iced tea beach
sandcastle paying alms to the heart of a breeze.
Seagull screaming above the bluebonnet seas.
Sailboats playing tag with a ribbon of cloud
salt spray licking away at the soul of the bow
maple leaves flashing as the sunflower bows.
Fall arrives on the tip of a buckeye knife
an icy breeze slickens the path of a kite.
The hollows are glazed in orange and black
dreams are placed in mason jar caskets.
The artisan sprinkles the forest with gems
death hangs so untamed and magnificent.
A snowflake pauses in the dream of an evergreen
indigo songs descend into the fog rather hauntingly.
Winter freezes the trees to their bitter mint roots
a cardinal bleeds into harmony, always on cue.
Dear brother, could this be the scented spirit of you?
The fifth season proclaims no beginning nor ending
a worthy soul's fate is a return to the heavens.