Long poem by
Abder Derradji | Details
Mother nature oh! Rose of roses!
Mother of all flowers' and smell,
Ylang Ylang! You don't know what it causes!
An aphrodisiac turns you on like hell!
Sandalwood with its masculine warmth poses,
Rosemary clears the head, you can tell,
Peppermint purifies blocked noses,
Patchouli the meditative, it does sell,
Orange oil refreshing, stimulates since Moses,
Chamomiles in variety and bluebell,
Mandarin the sweet floral in few doses,
Helps you digest and makes feeling very well,
Marjoram helps a positive mood,
In creating and lemon oil reduces the stress,
Lavender the cleansing oil is surely good,
Juniper Berry soothes and tones the muscles in mess,
Geranium the relaxing prepares you for action,
Cypress oil relaxes you twice and once again,
Cedarwood calms and makes ready for attraction,
Basil oil with prairie's odours is the main,
With Myrtle the antiseptic and carminative,
And Niaouli the beverage that it was,
For Neroli, the aphrodisiac is very active,
Origanum, Pimento, Pine oil and Rose,
Pettigrain, this is a citrus vulgaris,
Calms anger and refreshes the mind,
And the sedative, hypotensive Amyris,
With Angelica the stimulation you will find,
The Aniseed, Pimpinella anisum,
An antiemetic, diuretic and an insecticide,
Likewise in Anise-star, illicium verum,
All the same remedies you will find,
Laurus Nobilis, this is Bay-leaf oil,
Analgesic, cholagogue and hepatic,
In sweet styrax, Benzoin when you boil,
Vanilla flavour, a deodorant and cephalic,
Citrus Bergamia, Bergamot like orange,
An uplifting in character for anxiety,
In Birch tar, Betula Lenta you need courage,
To kill pain and thank the Lord Almighty,
Black Pepper, piper nigrum spicy sharp,
Cajuput oil, the herbaceous and penetrating,
In a singing-like circle with a harp,
Helps the heart, and respiration in circulating,
Cinnamomum Camphora that's Camphor,
Since Chrosroes the Babylonian King the wise,
Surely was part of civilisation and folklore,
For the Eastern powers that fall and rise!
Caraway, Carum Carvi is sweet!
And a flavouring agent in all your food,
Adding it when marinading your meat,
Aromatise the entire dish that will be good!
Cardamom, Elettaria yellow flower and pale,
Very spicy and digestive from the East,
The Arabs praise it in their coffee call it "Hail",
And the Romans took it after each great feast,
Carrot-seed, Daucus carota has a past,
In skin diseases, teeth and gums and the sight illness,
Its effect on red blood cells is very fast,
With the right blends it surely helps the body fitness,
Apium Graveolens, celery is fresh and warm,
That was a symbol of funerals, death and grief,
It was believed in ancient Egypt nay in Rome,
To cure swollen limbs and to relieve,
Cymbopogon Nardus that's Citronella,
In wax candles helps mosquitos to disappear,
Its oil is used to beautify and make the "Bella",
In look and smell and feeling...what's more to hear??
Clove, coriander and clary Sage,
Cumin, Elemi and Dill,
Thousands of oils won't fill the page,
Eucalyptus and Fennel they heal,
Fir, Frankincense and Galbanum,
Garlic, Ginger and Grapefruit,
Guaicwood, Hyssop and Helichrysum,
This is immortelle oil to suit,
Jasminum, the waiting King at the doors,
A perfume for lovers to indicate,
A seduction imported by the moors,
To Spain, then Europe to fabricate,
Its uses along with Lavandin,
This hybrid of true Lavender and spike,
Was exploited in soap trade to begin,
Then turned to perfume-making and the alike,
Lemongrass is a very reviving,
And Lime, this citrus medica,
It does match when mixed with Mandarin,
And with Nutmeg could be a "replica,"
Linden Blossom oil is a slightly spicy,
Litsea Cubeba is a floral and fruity,
In Melissa, the honey-bee you fancy,
And Myrrh the musky, symbol for beauty,
Palmarosa, they say "clarifies the mind,
And Parsley was named after "Petros,
In Pine oil, good feelings you will find,
Rosemary has affected "Ethos",
Rosewood, this "Bois de rose",
A "Jacaranda" is known in Brazil,
A real deodorant in dose!
Sage was believed in Rome "To heal,"
Pimento is known as "Allspice,
And Santolina is still a pillar in medicine,
With Spearmint the smell is very nice,
In Tagetes the citrus flavour is never lasting,
Tangerine the hypnotic and Tarragon,
Terebinth the balsamic the vermifuge,
Thyme the thymus vulgaris that was born,
From the tears of Helen-Troy that grew huge,
Tea-Tree oil is sanitary Australian,
Verbena makes a love potion pot-pourri,
Vetivert, this earthy fragrance's never alien,
To the world of perfumes, competition and fury,
On Violet the odorata was said,
A symbol of fertility in Greece,
The perfume that Marie Antoinette preferred,
And in Yarrow a help for diabetes.
Copyright © Abder Derradji | Year Posted 2015
Long poem by
Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Details
Neither a dream nor a trick, I beguiled--
I reach the sky enameled with golden smile.
To hurdle bumps and curves, I continue to pedal
this steadfast being yearn to step on a pedestal,
I found at the center of a fertile square mile.
Train piercing thorns didn't blind eyes to behold,
a sunrise stored to each and every intricate fold.
Some jasmine fragrance afloat-- satiates my smell
lost hope resurrect to impregnate a lifetime tale
as fragile attached hearts trying to enfold,
The autumn trumpet hues a runner-up palette
to your summer vibrant colors ballet,
eyes wander feast on your swells of panache.
My fingers drown to trace river edges bends, posh--
enthralled, above moon bowed shedding candle sprays.
Open secret scents, you effused stirred plague of souls,
the tempted sirens in one sang a victor goal.
The listening wind hush and blows the beats
swaying leaves to dance in left to right fleet.
Catalyzed by the sun rising daily at morn call,
I am inspired to traverse every norms' womb.
By your petals slow zoom, I find myself in chorus bloom.
Rooms of my mind open to hundred ocean thoughts
which soon aims to recite it's symphonic notes,
I... compelled to nectar strings of burst abloom.
Goodness! War and peace didn't wilt our affair
eversince Zion answered every whispered prayer.
My experiences with you are pearls, dearest flower,
consent me then to carry and share them 'til forever,
as here on garden earth, I meet you as my soul pair.
4:44 am; November 25, 2014
No cross. No trial. Not even a dark storm will stop me
to climb the highest mountain if there-- a sublime beauty
awaits for me.From tattered highways to plain narrow roads,
I will stroll alike-- a fearless lion roaring regal
With sunbeams glowing ember above my head, I behold
an Aphrodite dwelling beneath a labyrinth fold.
Perfumed fragrance rides the swaying breeze-- luring my hunger
to taste some love. I, like the Aurora, rise in wonder.
Oh! This sojourner's sight is arrested to your splendor.
In a blue skied ambiance, will you care to surrender?
The autumn leaves are like free-falling birds from maple-trees
pretty,but a runner-up to summery hues you play.
Big brown eyes meander feast on your petals of panache--
my fingers slowly prom to outline your edges. I, charmed,
as even the mystique moon curves, casting some dim light sprays. . .
Hours passed yonder am held captive by the spell from you Belle.
so enthused, the reflections, I have zoom as I dispel
castle dreams that draws a happily ever after tales.
The apex now I reached - a diva I am as I sing
rhapsodizing sweet the Nirvana I happened to see.
I thank God that the world wars didn't bobble this encounter
True... the years may ebb but this I will always remember.
Dearest flower, my experience with you is priceless,
consent me then to apportion this until forever
in this Eden Earth that only you~ Belle is my soul pair.
Sponsor Roy Jerden
Contest Name The Makeover
7:28 pm; March 11, 2015
*** Note: the original in the form of quintella the new one in iambic heptameter or quatorzain.
Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Year Posted 2014
Long poem by
Dale Gregory Cozart | Details
It is an unseasonable March day.
My kitchen blinds are drawn against the morning sun,
their slender slats like new skin protecting the body's vital organs;
eyelids before this rose-covered tablecloth as though the blooms
are the pale larvae of our future, still coiled and sleepy,
not-yet-flowers at the sill of this too-early spring,
who would murmur, if so evolved: We are not ready to be born.
I perspire at the sudden heat; the ceiling fan beats downward
onto my damp corner, this alcove of waning winter.
But the flowers: the muslin washed to faded smoothness,
the blooms asymmetrical, each calyx waiting like fingers clasped
in prayer to blossom into a new dimension,
a simple heartfelt request to rejoin the living.
And there are rhododendrons, pink with their baby freckles, the tiny stamen-fingers
reaching past those same pliant slats, this time of the crib
of their incubation, to touch softly anything of the strange newness
of their coming fruition. We are dawning, come the earliest babblings;
they know what they mean even if we do not. The first alien syllables
fall on deaf carpeting and the semi-gloss of these pale walls,
absorbed and forgotten in the stiff pleats of similar-colored curtains.
In this house, in these manufactured shadows, I am still of winter,
of our shared grief and shame at our compelling
obscenity of civilization, knowing full well that this structure
stood as shelter against the recent, freezing rains, the showering
silver spears of a marauding infidel, who, as the earlier mulch of autumn,
has come to dust, spent as the bride whose wedding dress
falls away and disappears in the tatter of fallen leaves
that soon dry up and disintegrate. In its place, in the folds of new skin,
comes a house of flowers, plant-life sacrificing itself on the altar,
using its own bodies to erect its shrine.
Suddenly this tabletop, awash in once-vibrant maroons, greens,
pinks and whites, is a crystal ball. In this sphere of the all-knowing
I see things as they will be. This table is a loom and the cloth
a tapestry, each thread a component of the fabric to come.
And the flowers: roses unscrolling; chrysanthemums bursting
into the applause of dozens of tiny hands; hibiscus, the silent trumpets,
all laid out on a bed of stems and leaves woven as the threads themselves
upon which their likenesses have been cast, like a portrait
painted in their own green blood.
But these dragons stationed at the gates of paradise
are only cotton heroes; it is March. It is too soon.
This sudden heat will pass as this day passes, its images
dissolving into memory as a stone obliterates the reflection
alive in a tranquil pool. What I have seen will be, but not now.
I am myself in this little room, the adult who must go
about the tasks of day. But I am also an infant poised
on a threshold, the golden crocus in first bloom, arriving prematurely.
And I am held at this brink of fruition by a body not sufficiently evolved,
being led away by a parent I barely recognize, who cannot offer consolation
as he does not know the vision I have seen.
As we move I look back, reaching with the bulb of my hand
and its tiny sprouting fingers, for the image growing
further out of reach, and I murmur gravely,
half in knowledge, half in absentia, the only word I can pronounce:
Copyright © Dale Gregory Cozart | Year Posted 2017
Long poem by
cherl dunn | Details
Listen to the whispering's of the unhushed winds gently echoing,
Ever so softly swaying, as through a tender exhaled breath of warmth,
Delicately reawakening mother earth from winters hibernating sleep,
Broken, shattered is the frozen icy spell of polar enchantment.
The dreaming empress of springtime stirs, underneath her shifting
Melting ivory skirts of wintertime, nay she is ready to adorn another
Seasonal gown of magical rebirth, and life renewal.
In the distance hear the lone whippoorwill singing, to this timeless waltz
Of nature’s enduring elegance, breathless beauty amongst the evergreen
Pines, she stands tall again, shaking off the milky white coverings of powder
Snow dust, to expose rainbow blossoms of springtime!
Showered Goddess by sun-kissed golden light, shimmering shine within
The horizons canvas of brilliance everlasting design, walking in graces
Steps from heaven’s cherished, beguiling the spoils response, refreshing,
A gleaning harvester of life itself!
Oh sweet humming mistress, do not the bees covet thee, as their mystical
Queen of melted honey comb, buzzing amongst your garden magnificent,
Drinking deeply from pollinations yellowy treasured nectar!
Within the willows the breeze welcomes the maiden of generations,
Lightly waving among the daffodils delicate petals, brushing against
The dandelions bending shafts, tenderly caressing at this wild flowery
Meadow of colors contrast.
A gentle spring rain thus falls, to nourish and sustain the divine gardens
Of Eden’s paradise, tiny is the sparrow within these sacred trees of harmony,
Let what music she sings, of beauty’s tune of charms splendor in perfections
Feathers white of angels wings shed unto the world of men, as the world
Awakens on the dawning of springs revival and restoration, within opulence’s
Blazing sunrise, a lady of peace walks in tranquility's shadow smiling, dancing,
Underneath heaven’s merciful hands of hope, and devotional resolve for the
Future to burst forth!
She is the weaver, the crafter of roots sewn, the quilter of generations
Blanket, mother of the world itself, behold how this Golden Goddess
Shows her love by promises rainbow garden, cascading downwards from
Mountain tops, to the valley’s vast deep and wide!
Inspirations muse, I’ll kneel before your evergreen footprints of life,
Bowing in humble reverence, and respect, for I’m just a mortal being
Lost in the whispering winds of the timeless, a pondering poet,
The wondering bard captured in the spring time spell you’ve cast,
Blessed being known, as mother nature!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Dedicated to my friend whom loves springtime, and Daffodils!!
Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2016