Long Gladioli Poems
Long Gladioli Poems. Below are the most popular long Gladioli by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gladioli poems by poem length and keyword.
It was predictable
You would come
And smile
I cleaned the stable
Put a handsome
bouquet of roses
On a table
In the right hand corner
Near the window
Put some white gladioli
Wrapped with
A brown paper too
Lest what is predictable
Didn't come true
It was you who
made it predictable
For you said
Categorically
Whether spring or rain
You would be with me
Doctor came in the evening
Angiography was done
He wrote on the report
Normal
But
Sought opinion
Of the departmental head
I was left swinging
Between bouquet
And brown paper
You are smiling
Jasmine flowers
You are sure
Roses prevail
Tomorrow morning
There will be an aurora
She said with an euphoria
____________________________
December 8, 2019
Predictable Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Nina Parmenter
Mesmerized by your chrysanthemum smile,
I drifted in bliss inside the halo
of your gladioli gaze
and as I studied the grace
of that forget-me-not face,
I memorized your metaphors
and your many luscious similies,
like the lushness of your eyelashes
that frame your wide, ebony eyes
as if they were the wisps
of delicate cirrus clouds
adrift in a crystal sky.
And so it is
your face will forever
be stenciled
on the fabric of my mind,
for you are my
ever-marvelous, magical muse.
A multitude of the hues of you
are exquisitely inked
indelibly
in my soul.
The girl, new, fresh;
wandered innocently
through the mockery;
the type the English
are so fond of building.
Fronds of false friendship
brushed against her virgin skin
leaving seeds of doubt
within her delicate folds,
to be harvested;
in time.
She was tempted
by the alluring,
plump, red fruit;
whose juices now mingled
with her blood
upon the thousand
tiny cuts
their barbs had made.
And as she walked
the brambles
rustling whispers
of deceit
followed in her shadow.
She quickly turned around
to find
a glorious array
of Gladioli
their bright colors
embroidered by the sun;
in the breeze
bobbing their approval.
She surrenders her all oranges and apples
To his crimson basket of throbbing warmth
To let her caves dance in a downpour
And cloak her snowflakes in wools of love
They are like two entwined trees
Against an embroidered slice of love-wall
Let me fission in scarlet grains
She said amidst the scented rains
The hands that hold you are writing poetry
All my fireflies in a blossoming spree
My cheeks soaking up the vapors of your red cells
My eyes are closed to retain the kisses
The blue green and white flowers
From your breath on my pulsating red hair
Gustav Klimt once made us immortal
In his deathless The Kiss
Such gladioli of love rarely bloomed
Very few rooms enjoyed such collapse
Such gold leaf glitter seldom shone
To shape out the lip-locked lovers
4 December, 2017
For Klimt - Poetry Contest sponsored by
Anthony Slausen
I avoid those floral gangsters,
vainglorious Gladioli,
eugenically forced greenhouse Geraniums
with their large Shar-pei heads.
Garish claustrophobic chromatic mobs,
their heavy menacing over-cultivated smells.
Charles Darwin, thought these latter-day
angiosperms as:
“an abominable mystery.”
They are life-forms born of missing links,
genetically modified to eat oxygen,
perhaps out of our human brains?
Dogs and cows
are immune to their deleterious charms,
but we who are drawn to color and form,
sniff them out, as if they were hard drugs.
O you Peony, overgrown Day Lily,
you seemingly
innocuous bunches of Mums,
I see you, you smug and pretty enticers,
you mesmerizing Rasputin's!
I cringe, hold my breath,
reluctantly
bring those heady eye-catchers home
to my darling,
who waits for yet more perfumed
love letters.
Spring rain was forecast, and it came.
It ran out of the sky,
it felt like millions of sloppy puppy kisses
a warm wetness just so happy to lick the earth
and the bald spot on the top of my head -
happy to run down
under my collar,
down my back,
just so happy
to trickle about
until
I have to run into the store
thinking to buy an umbrella,
but end up
just buying a bunch of tall purple Gladioli,
because you love them,
and you are just so happy
to watch their fairy-tale big-hat blooms
fill up with water
and then bend their giraffe necks
to pour the water out
as dozens of Gladioli mulled droplets
running about on the tabletop,
all of them just so happy
to be playing with your glad fingers.
Word Quintet in E Minor
Too many tan hearses cruise down my street in 1963
Too many grieving souls cry shattered tears here.
Green throbbing lawns ruminate like grazing cows.
Red-bricked chimneys stand erect in the tall wind.
You and I have footsteps to take as we smell gladioli in 1968.
You look sporty wearing a white skirt and cashmere sweater.
I sit on a bench in the morning sun talking about rutabagas,
As you arrive holding a white tennis racquet made of catgut.
She and I grapple the monkey bars with orange drinks in 1962.
The green ocean of expansive grass lay beneath motionless as ice.
Thoughts of quiet summer shade subside into a lazy sun-drenched day.
Afternoon tides melt into the memory of days spent on a cool porch.
You and I are eating amidst the others as they talk trivialities in 1969.
You are sitting close to me wearing a tight-fitting dress with buttons in front.
We’re eating veal cutlets with mashed potatoes under a hanging light pendant.
The traffic outside is oblivious of our plans to make out wildly after dessert.
Too many tan hearses drive away from my street in 1964.
Too many funerals for the quietly erudite and the boldly afraid.
Green carpeted graveyards yawn with ennui in their insistent desiccations.
Old men with canes totter over star-lit graves behind rusted barbed wire.
Wounds and stars in a bowl
Both have to be taken
Emerging from dream soul
Linger on when waken
Sticks of gladioli
Crimson flower vases
Reddened green stimuli
Windows in rose blushes
A beggar on your road
A song in his guitar
Turns into a dark sword
Irresistible stars
The unrelenting sword
The compulsive tuberose
Beauty being adored
The pattern comes and goes
Visuals come and leave
The owls in deep forest
We rejoice and then grieve
Suddenly comes sunset
Still a dew on green leaf
Invites to its window
Quick responds the green thief
The rain in our pillow
No more need to look at
The coloured entity
Just keep busy with that
Orange infinity
_____________________________________________
15 May 2017
For the Poetry Contest : Introspective ....
Sponsored by: Lewis Raynes
Her golden locks glide grandly through our gladioli gilded garden gateway,
I gulp ginormous groundbreaking gulleys,
telltale tear tsunamis cut cataclysmic currents,
raw reckless rupture of romantic render,
terror-stricken tangential tamper seal evidence
on lumpen lunge lonesome lachrymose levee
Abandoned to anthemion arch ambience awash or afloat with apoplectic angst,
afterthoughts amazing amplitude aligns with an amorous abundance once opulent,
majestic memories marvel at
mystic magnifying glass that multiplies mammoth moods,
separation from silken sensual strand sculpture in sapphire stone,
this stagnant somber seeker must supplant or suppress solitude’s silent shiver
Without warning a wellspring whispered windfall weave from winsome woman,
wide-eyed wondrous wakeful wizardry woos whining wildcard wreck,
a cascade of charismatic crystal colour clusters trial and tribulation trauma that trembles deep inside,
delightful dawn denouement dame drifts in dreamland dale,
“precious pining pristine pearl
I present panoramic passionate parameters to
propitiate bitter broken-hearted baleful bond.”
Fantastic flourish found festoons for emotional evocative environment evolved,
illustrious intimate intrigue inlaid immediately,
Heather’s halcyon harmonic laces labyrinthine lavender love,
heart healing honeymoon handcraft
herald on high,
supreme sensei soulmates savour
sentiment surreal beyond an iridescent infinite inkling
Date Posted : April 11th 2022
First Place Podium Medal Winner
JCB BRUL My Lost and Found Love Alliteration Contest
Judged April 21st 2022
It's Monday
The day of the dead leaves and fresh flowers
The dry and wet hours
Like the other days
Of life and death
The desert and the lake
Thousands of the little ponds
The debris waiting for the mansion
Farmers stacking the hay
The trains that run every day
It's Monday
It's raining
As it rained last Friday too
The leaves whisper
With the caterpillars
The rivers playing football
The children of water
The toad is in laughter
The breezes leave rustles in the blades
The larks look on
The flood has robbed a family of life
The relatives weep
The rains stop a little and smile
The window down under my heart
Calls me
It was on a Monday too
Only yesterday as it were
Do you remember?
Your permanent shadow
Arrived on my canvas
The dream painting I am still doing
The rain got jealous
It came down on the shadows heavily
The time got flooded
As the water receded
A little plant raised its head
Got blended with my butter and bread
Moon-flower in the dream
The sunbeams woke me up
Whenever Monday is accompanied
By the rains
The pains of the window
Call me to you
With the windows holding the flowery hues
I look for the brushes
To pick the colour
For the shadows of the rustles
Slowly and softly
The gladioli
_____________________________
February 21, 2018
Rainy Days And Mondays - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One