Long Crocuses Poems
Long Crocuses Poems. Below are the most popular long Crocuses by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Crocuses poems by poem length and keyword.
Violet, a lovely lady, kin to Purple, can be a contradiction.
Between her fellows Red and Blue (yet more inclined to Blue),
she lies with a calm passion! Unique and unconventional is she!
A symbol of humility, through the ages she has listened to confessions
as she draped the shoulders of Roman Catholic priests.
Yet often in society, she’s been seen as extravagant and vain!
Just for having embellished the rooms and the attire
of monarchs, emperors, and princes,
and just because Violet is flattering to the yellow found in gold,
should she then be punished for her wealth of beauty?
Should her shades with other lovely names such as
Lilac, Lavender, Amethyst, and Mauve
be seen in any other way as simply gorgeous?
Perhaps for her ambiguity as she shifts to deeper reddish hues
then back to cool blue, she is perceived in western culture
as uncertain and ambivalent, for she is not popular with the masses.
Van Gogh, however, understood her,
painting her as irises and showing her in swirls of stars!
And in the oriental world, where she is extolled,
she radiates the sublime harmony of the universe,
as the melding of the yin and yang of red and blue.
Violet, who sometimes spreads herself splendidly
across the twilight skies
and peeks out from rainbows,
is a beauty so rarely seen in nature
that the birds, stones and plants that she enchants
are not even too numerous to name.
Have you seen her purple pearl or coral in the sea?
Have you heard the song of African violet-backed starlings?
But oh! Violet loves flowers. . . Besides her small sweet namesake,
She colors crocuses, petunias, asters, geraniums and pansies.
Not many other things in nature does Violet cling to,
yet she adores the grape and plum,
and with a certain whimsy, she’s charmed purple cabbage,
the turnip, eggplant, and beets!
Rare lady in nature, Violet, my adored, why is it that you are not more loved?
As I cross a field of lavender and breathe you in, the answer to my question
eludes me.
The moment winter softens into spring and all is melting,
the first flower is the white snowdrop poking through the snow;
followed by johnny-jump ups, so cute and delicate, they just pop up,
over here and over there and everywhere in bright patches.
And then come the drifts of bulbs planted in hope last year,
the flocks of crocuses, daffodils, and tulips all a dulcet mingling;
some even grow on my lawn, but I don't mind really,
the whole garden will soon be wild and dripping with flowers.
Oh, just for a while though for these beauties fade quickly away,
but I have plans for my garden, oh yes I have hopes and dreams;
all I need is spring to arrive and for birds to return to my garden,
then, you will find me planting and resting in the shade.
Added after Contest Judged, February 9, 2019
_______________________________________
Written, February 8, 2019
Poetry/Verse/Spring Hope
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1112-851-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Hope
sponsor, Carolyn Devonshire
Third Place
I’m thankful for the whispering winds and the gentle rain
And the absent sun on dark days, knowing it will be out again
The moonlit skies at night with twinkling stars shining bright
The change of the seasons and all its festive and seasonal sights
The birds who visit and sing their sweet morning melodies
Goldfinches, blue-jays, cardinals and feisty chickadees
Their daily return to feed and build nests nearby in the trees
And watching their entertaining antics as they frolic and tease
Spring blooms that I anticipate and wait for to reappear
In bright colors and scents that bring delight and cheer
The chipmunks and squirrels in my yard scurrying about
with their sputtering, chirping, and barking spouts
The fresh winter snow that cleanses and brightens the ground
and the magical moments of watching the snowflakes come down
When the air warms and crocuses and daffodils emerge through the snow
And the return of Spring when nature rejoices and puts on a beautiful show
When crocuses first blazed beneath the trees
as harbingers of warmth and light to come,
I met you, and the curved continuum
transported us beyond high summer's ease.
Thanks be to God above that things rotate.
The bloom is ruptured by late summer's breath:
its seeds, in flying, validate its death.
Our cycle is complete. The hour is late.
Yet every night is scattered by a dawn,
each fallen oak replenishes the soil.
If life-in-death brings on us endless toil,
the pains of birth and grief, I will not mourn.
I know new shoots will strive up from dead ground,
and love will flame again, though now snowbound.
I love this nasty game of a combination of
leisure and life where the trouble maker becomes the victim
and the product of that crafty pencil of our imaginations
is translated into a true life story told by the welcomes
of roses, gloriosas and saffron crocuses.
silk so tight on a flesh so mild
can sexualize a nearby stone
and with the first half of your luscious castle,
the throne definitely stays beneath its delicate walls,
strongly preserved for the exotic union of my everlasting presence.
The hips’ salvation matches your lips temptation
thereby constructing a pix exaggeration
to inflict a fixed subordination on me,
making it count at six erections already
as I’m lost in a mixed contemplation.
Oceans gushing out of the sun and trees standing on the clouds
are perfections of a world only known by the census of two.
Our citizenry well enforced by this mighty affection
and bodies well protected
by the magnitude of such penetrating jealousy
strongly fighting against any threat of liquefying its refined honey
and adulterating its rare tasty wine
put the art of intimate knowledge into re-evaluation
and the strength of the art of sex
very close to the question mark of moral bliss.
Such wealthy lavishness with all positive alteration
to any kind of belonging is evidenced
by my accepted foolishness so honourable.
Words alone are unworthy because the probability
of using all existing letters is not sufficient enough
to mold a brick out of a thousand many
in building my bridge to your heart.
The winter time has had its day,
Was what we all believed,
As signs of spring were everywhere.
But seems we've been deceived.
Evil April brings Arctic blast
Now more snow has arrived.
It seems winter must dominate,
And tell springtime it has to wait.
The snowdrops and the crocuses
Put on a splendid show.
Now we should have the daffodils
But they struggle to grow.
And the tulips expected soon
Are still asleep below.
It seems winter must dominate,
And tell springtime it has to wait.
Why are these seasons so confused?
There surely is a catch.
Last week the moorhen laid her eggs
Now incubates the batch.
But with the snow covering her
What chance have they to hatch?
It seems winter must dominate,
And tell springtime it has to wait.
~~~~ Winter Begone !! ~~~~
Oh, look, the wind is blowing
and once again it's snowing,
I haven't felt warm since November
and clear skies, I don't even remember.
Enough is enough, go away !!
Winter, you've had your say
but I'm sick of you now,
take a final bow
and get out of my life right away.
I long for the warmth of Spring
and the beauty that season brings.
Flowers and birds, clear skies above,
my favourite season, the one that I love.
p.ussywillows, crocuses and more
will gather outside of my door.
Winter, please begone !!
You've been here way too long
and I detest you to my very core.
example for my contest
Anacreontic Verse
Winter has now passed,
tears drip from the sky
grey clouds hide the blue
it’s raining! I cry.
April showers
bring us welcomed rain,
our garden’s thirst
is quenched again.
Vibrant crocuses
of yellow and blue
peer through the soil.
Daffodils dance
in the warm spring breeze,
their golden pollen
may make you sneeze!
Terrific tulips
delight us
bursting with
jewelled colours of
purple, pink and red.
Cherry blossom falls
on a zephyr breeze,
resembling
pretty pink
wedding confetti
falling from the trees.
Checked using How Many Syllables
Contest -Anacreontic Verse 3 sponsored by Edward Ebbs
04~04~16
The trail is lovely here around the bend
The rains of spring have formed a clear, deep pool
God's handiwork, so delicately penned
The red buds, almost hard to comprehend
Adorned in pink and ruby colored jewels
The trail is lovely here around the bend
The crocuses, in purple, to what end?
The foliage, now greening, keeps them cool
God's handiwork, so delicately penned
The robin showing off to lady friend
The salamander naps beneath toadstools
The trail is lovely here around the bend
Mere form eclipsed, here, beauty far transcends
Design revealed to all but blinded fool
God's handiwork, so delicately penned
So much to take in as I slowly wend
My way through classwork not revealed in school
The trail is lovely here around the bend
God's handiwork, so delicately penned
—————
FIFTH PLACE WINNER
For the ‘An Original Villanelle Contest’ Poetry Contest
Sponsored by L Milton Hankins
Written 02/25/2022
Late April and only
coltsfoot—Tussilago farfara—breaking leaf litter.
Our daffodils, peonies and crocuses
are also making signs.
April is the cruelest month, I forget why.
A sweet slow Spring
no sudden changes
each leg and leaf unfolds deliberately. You can't miss it.
New York City's spring rushes like a yellow cab
into summer. One day leaves are wet,
next they’re leather. I prefer this slow dance,
birds mating on the sky, peepers evolving into frogs.
Repairs take weeks or months. Septic,
garage door, cracked windshield, clean windows,
build bridge, buy land, rake leaves off erosion control,
cut wood, prune lilac, paint lawn chairs.
More carefully inspect, identify, the insect
of the week, a fly with an ant’s body
that skirts the grass and falls in drinks.
Look more closely! It will be gone in a few days!
Then it will be the time of moths or fireflies,
mosquitoes and wasps. Mud road,
red-winged blackbird. The slashing stream
topples old trees. My legs hurt.