Long Camellias Poems
Long Camellias Poems. Below are the most popular long Camellias by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Camellias poems by poem length and keyword.
When I
feel down
and out of sorts
and have no get up and go
the only thing that lifts my spirits
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are
Sparkling ~ Dangling ~ Outrageous ~ Bizarre
the longer the better ~ the wilder they are
they are making me grin
I am feeling them swing
when moving my head
zany rings in my ears
some they are odd
some they are even
I wear them together
with flowers in my hair
lifting me making me
outlandish eccentric
zany I grow old disgracefully
but what do I care ~ with
bright red camellias adorning my hair
Written to lift my mood on 10th April 2021
Contest All Yours (April 12)
Sponsor Brian Strand
N/A
Contest 'Z' contest New or Old
Sponsor Constance La France
FIRST PLACE
Placed Second In :
Spring Sonata Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Joseph Bru
Spring Sonata
When the queen of seasons serenades her sonata
And the spring sun spreads its soft shine on earth,
It`s time for daisies purple and blue to take birth anew,
For lilies pink and white to spring out from slumber
And daffodils yellow to garb on a new dress.
When the spring shine gently warms the air far and wide,
It`s time for camellias deep red to parade their blooms,
Vie with the splendour of tulips orange
And spy the frolics of skillful bees
Stealing nectar from the midst of flowers.
When the sweet breeze of spring sings its song,
It`s time for flowers to display their pomp
And their brilliance to all observant eyes,
Pervade the air with their delicious scent
And radiate the joy of life and living.
When the spring morn creeps in at dawn,
It`s time to lend ears to sparrows
Tweeting and twittering at ease
Amidst robins chirping with grace
While scanning the air with flapping wings.
When the moon and stars of spring slips in,
It`s time for sages to stare at the shine
Subdued by a slight breeze that caresses the skin,
And for staunch lovers to stitch sweet sugary dreams
In the stark silence of their silken couch.
When the gentle night of spring steps in,
It`s fitting time to scribble a serenade
To hail the gracious queen of seasons
And offer to her heartiest appreciation
For bestowing on man her generous boons.
She is a widow, never wanting to marry again, never defiling her vows,
her five children have moved to other parts of the United States;
and they seldom visit her, except on the very special season of Christmas,
when she adorns her home with garlands and lights to honor the Child Jesus...
Her name is Amelia, a petite lady from Andalusia,whose passion is writing poems,
and her Spanish accent is somewhat heavy, but the words are clear and precise;
on long summer's nights she speaks of her native land...meadows covered with camellias,
and tells tales of Columbus and the Conquistadors with feathered helmets...
She was quite beautiful in her younger days, daises in her dark, lustruos hair,
and sea-colored eyes that resembled the Mediterranean Sea, which brought her nostalgia;
and she often wore a folklorist costume of stripes of bright orange and yellow like her flag,
and now she's confined to a wheelchair looking sad...who has camellias for Amelia?
This past spring I planted a dozen of camellias plants in the empty and barren lawn,
hoping they would bloom when she would stare at the huge Atlantic Ocean;
and with eyes as sharp as a youngster, Amelia would see her beloved Spain,
and those lush meadows covered with camellias to bring her bitter-sweet pain.
In the quite hours of an early August' morning, Amelia rose to say her prayers,
and with the rosary in her devoted hands, she peaked outside and surprisingly smiled;
a beautiful garden of camellias appearing in front of her joyous eyes... she was so delighted,
but she couldn't go outside and caress them, but thought to herself, " Someone cares! "
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Women, how can I make you a fair definition?
You have nurtured 6 billion live children
So, you are the mother of the human
On every piece of land on this planet
They, with fine wisdom and skillful hands
Arranged, the order of time and
The dimensions of tolerance
Giving the air the direction of love
Making the clouds Elegance and
The moonlight flow like a stream
So, you created miracles
I remembered how you grew up
Like flowering trees, jasmine, peaches
Apricot, or plums...
In the wind of spring and
In rays of the beautiful sun,
You are stretching the branches joyfully
And releasing the growth happily,
I can also hear your voice too,
As you are flying in the air, like the thrushes,
The swallows, or the Orioles...
Or like the sparrows jumping from branch to branch
So, you are broadcasting graceful music
When I'm near you, I can also smell your breath
The fragrance is somewhat with sweet,
Like the jasmines, the cloves, or the camellias...
And when I'm away for a long time from you,
Many times, my heart will become noisy
And my thoughts will diffuse
And hard to maintain a mindset of a scientist
And whenever this moment comes,
I know it will be more hard to define...
So, I must go outside
Facing the flowering trees and
Dazing
* To International Women's Day
We know her as Camellia...that fine name,
a perfect one for someone sweet as she;
her silky skin and amber eyes proclaim
a charming, pristine beauty, all agree.
Just like the flower's petals, pure and white
are shaped into a cup of perfect form,
Camellia molds her care to help them fight
the painful journey to more healthy norm.
Our dear Camellia comes most every day
to nurture our close friend who cannot walk.
Her tenderness and kindness lead the way
with her fine therapy and gentle talk.
Her steadfastness and excellence outshine
the beauty and the presence she portrays;
it's what's inside her heart that is sublime
and marks her loveliness in many ways.
Just as the flower does, Camellia lives,
with meaning of a pure and lovely soul;
perfection, beauty, in the care she gives
to her dear patients...help, her only goal.
August 25, 2016
~13th Place~
Contest: And In Words, She Blooms
Sponsor: Casarah Nance
Judged: 09/14/2016
"The symmetrical beauty and long-lasting quality of the flower have long been appreciated. White camellias with their pristine and pure hue depict an adorable quality. The white blossom may also symbolize perfection without blemish. Camellias, no matter what the color have meanings attached to them like steadfastness, and excellence. Once the white Camellias go into its fully bloomed form, it takes the shape of a delicate cup of petals...for the white camellia, getting blossoms with a perfectly shaped cup will embody your message of admiration for someone’s adorable qualities."
I moved South from Seattle's rainy haze,
To Atlanta's charm in the early 80s days.
They called me a Yankee, a foreign soul,
But Southern living soon took its toll.
Sightseeing spots, reminders of the past,
Stone Mountain, Kennesaw hills, memories that last.
Civil war echoes lingered in the air,
A history woven into Southern flair.
Spring arrived, painting the land anew,
Dogwood trees blossomed, a pristine view.
Azaleas bloomed, colors vibrant and bright,
Colonial homes adorned, a majestic sight.
Kudzu vine spread, a creeping menace,
Climbing poles and trees, a relentless offense.
It suffocated plants, its control unknown,
A battle fought, but its crawl would not be overthrown.
Summer rolled in, with sweltering heat,
Porch-sitting, a respite, a welcome treat.
Neighbors dropped by, conversations flowed,
Cold drinks in hand, stories shared and bestowed.
Magnolia trees, white and pink in bloom,
An office entrance adorned, dispelling gloom.
Camellias, inspiring with their beauty so rare,
Po folks' meals, fried chicken and cornbread to share.
Warmth of the people, overwhelming and kind,
"Sir" echoed, a gesture of respect you'd find.
Cost of living low, money troubles ceased,
Georgia welcomed me, a place of peace.
No matter what they say or press may tell,
In Southern living, I found a hospitable spell.
From the charm of Atlanta to the warmth of the land,
Southern living, a true gem, forever grand.
Turning the pages of God's coloring book
Beauty everywhere we look
Human minds cannot comprehend
The Greatest of artists and His pen
Each season, paints a different scene
Summer, Autumn, Winter and Spring
The sun in summer, so yellow and bright
Forests of green such a beautiful sight
Vivid blues take on the sky
White clouds float steadily by
Green grass covers the land
Oceans blue meet white sand
Autumn brings leaves changing
Hues of warmth, colors ranging
Sunflowers, yellow and brown
Burgundy splashed all around
Breathtaking views of Autumn Fall
Mountains covered with majestic awe
The color of orange sprouts from the ground
Wearing stems green for a crown
Winter skies taken over with gray
Snow covered mountains, beauty displayed
Country roads, snow covered trees
So much to behold, the eye to see
The moon's faded hue, lights up the sky
Galaxy of colors, such a delight
The ground lies in beautiful white
As silver stars dance on high
Spring brings a vibrant view
Roses of red, Violets of blue
Camellias in shades of pink
Pastels from God's colored ink
Dandelions, cover the grass
A shade of yellow to add some class
Everything bright and anew
Handpicked of God's perfect hues
The elegance of God, none to compare
So vibrant yet so fragile and fair
In awe of everywhere we look
The beauty of God's coloring book
Written by: Donetta Harless
Thursday, August 25, 2016
Ambitious Amaryllis arrive soon,
Bloodroots beauty appears to bloom.
Colourful Camellias grow in shade,
Daffodils dance in garden parade.
English-daisies pretend as innocent,
Freesia flowers friendly and fragrant.
Gleeful is the glamorous Geranium,
Hyacinths cling in cluster they come.
In too many shades Irises are seen,
Jovial and joyous are the Jasmine.
Kind are the keen Kangaroo paws,
Lamb's ear some attention it draws.
Maltese Cross active and anxious,
Naive and nervous are the Narcissus.
Orchids are obedient with open-eyes,
Pampered Pansies, peep in small size.
Quince flower is bright orange-red,
Rockrose arrive as shrub and spread.
Stylish smile surrounds Sweet pea,
Trillium flower has petals only three.
Umbrella Magnolia shines like star,
Virginia bluebells stunning they are.
Wallflowers stay silent and are shy,
Xyris watches with her yellow eye.
Yarrow are tiny tightly together,
Zestful is Zephyr in lovely weather.
Nature's colour in flowers is seen,
Among all seasons Spring is queen.
April 18, 2016.
Spring Flowers - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Shadow Hamilton
New or Old 5 - Poetry Contest
I drove by fields of daffodils on my way to town today.
The golden heads were bobbing as they brightened up the way.
The tulips that will follow next, are just a bit too late.
The daffodils will linger, they do not mind the wait.
In April, my loved valley is a tourist destination.
They’ve come to join the tulip tour, the largest in the nation.
The tulip fields are dazzling, in a multitude of hues.
Some blooms are picked and bundled for their avid fans to choose.
My home is in the center of this floriferous profusion.
Hundreds of thousand visitors before the tour’s conclusion.
Along the roads and highways, each yard is on display.
My gardens too are at their best in finest spring array.
Early snowdrops and spring crocus have already come and gone.
Lilacs, Camellias, Rhododendrons are just now coming on.
Japanese Cherries and others are all dressed in delicate pink.
A multitude of vibrant perennials will open in a blink.
If you could fly over and look down at my colorful countryside,
You would think I lived in Eden, in such beauty I abide.
A Lady Unknown
I have a photo of my grandmother, she looks so
young and beautiful, her hair glossy, but there
is a paleness about her and a sadness in her eyes,
It is a death has sought her out cast a net of illness
around her, ready to haul its catch and devour her.
I know little about her, where she came from, was
she an angel that found its way to my grandfather´s
heart, one who became human out of love but knew
she could not stay? When I look in the mirror and ask,”
Have I got your eyes? She looks back at me in grief.
I say I know who you are, the lost, daughter of Manus
the one he expelled because he found kindness in
your heart? Her eyes, deep as mystery lakes in May,
look at me in silence, but I do see a flicker of an ironic
smile… or was she the lady of the camellias?
I see tears swell in her eyes, depression grips me
as heart ache of love betrayed, shall I ever know
who she was… this woman who bore five children
and died at 27. It can't be so there must be more,
not only this bleak silence of the untold.