Long Hibiscus Poems

Long Hibiscus Poems. Below are the most popular long Hibiscus by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hibiscus poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member The Standing Stone's December

Here where the hibiscus and the palm tree sway,
December wears a mask, a sun-baked day.
The air is dense, a solemn, muggy sigh;
No frosty breath to hang the winter sky.
The calendar integrates as the year grows old,
But the earth, a young bride, refuses the cold.
No white covering quells the green-clothed land,
Just ocean rumors on sun-drenched sands.
We seek where the stones stand, as assurance’s strong,
A parable of familiarity where we truly belong.
It should be brimmed with ice, a silent guard,
But the tropical heatwave makes the vigil hard.
The stone stands, a heart, unmovable and true,
Yet the absence of snow paints a sky too blue.
This December is a clock with hands reversed,
A winter’s tale delightfully dispersed.
We are the trees, confused, with leaves so bright,
Awaiting shadows that won’t take their flight.
The island dreams of silence, sharp and deep,
While the warm waves roll, a secret it must keep,
That the soul of winter is not in the flake’s soft fall,
But in the resilience of the stone standing tall.
The sun, a fiery bear, keeps the cold wolf at bay,
In this warm December, the stone still holds its sway.


Home Collaberation With Silent One

Standing in the heart of this city
in awe of spectacular lights illuminating tall buildings.
Millions of strangers rush to and fro.
Who would've thought I would be here of all places.

But here I am feeling misplaced
in a place where no one knows your name. 

I fasten the winter coat tight 
to keep my heart wrapped warm,
because this city of strangers is so cold.
People wandering like bad actors struggling 
to play their part with faces lacking expression.

Concrete towers seem to imprison me
in a place my soul does not belong.
I walk the same path monotonously,
wondering where it all went wrong.

But here I am feeling lost and alone .
I'm smiling but only to keep the dancing tears at bay.

I can't be someone who I'm not,
nobody seems to appreciate that I'm misunderstood. 

And the dream that brought me here today,
now wants me to return home.

As my naked breath freezes in the air,
for a moment tired eyes close.
A smile sneaks through reminiscing Chamorro dreams.
Bathing under a blazing sun whose rays 
glow through clear azure skies.
Crystal sapphire seas invite my soul
to immerse in tranquil waves,
peacefully admiring pestrel and
shearwater birds soaring high above.

I can almost hear warblers chirping melodic songs 
of home, perched on a parade of paipai and coconut trees.
Scents of colourful plumeria and hibiscus petals 
draw my senses closer to my heart's province.

Old foot prints have now washed away.
How I long to walk on sands of my forefathers,
where loved ones await with open arms.

A major honor to collaborate with Silent One 

             12 January 2018
Form: Prose

Tomorrow's Sunrise Isn'T Far

Tomorrow's sunrise isn't far,
a new emotion of excitement
will help me find a quite harbor
where darkness has less might.

By night, I'll challenge gloominess;
by day, I'll see everything clearer...
when the brightness of the sun rays 
restarts a life that was captured by fear.

I won't forget how horrible it felt
living through the eerie twilight 
setting on the hibiscus and willows,
unable to soundly sleep and finally rest;
has anyone shivered and cursed shadows?

Tomorrow's sunrise isn't far
and what gleams in those waves
that seems more unpredictable than danger
is the anticipation of this realistic doer,
and the awareness to be alerted by sounds.

Neither storm nor high tides
have the power to make me fret and start shivering,
it's peaceful and mysteriously intriguing;
how delightful and thrilling can be the company of stars!

Tomorrow's sunrise isn't far,
is anyone awaiting the splendor to come and blind?
Is plentiful of rest good for the edgy mind,
for the uneasy spirit that seeks a calm night
as long as aloneness is a cure for restlessness?
And as you begin to fall asleep and wander
through dreams, a dream of beautiful images...
will make you smile and restore a steady heartbeat!
Form: Rhyme

Lost Love

It was the furtive glances that drew me
I sat nonchalant about those who came
The crazy curves led me to the mighty
And purple sculpture of a tipsy flame

You responded with the turquoise ocean
I failed to feel it was shallow water
I gave you my silence and commotion
Like the Kanchenjunga and Gibraltar

Then you met the warmer spring that charmed you
An ascetic attitude towards me
You grew while shifting to the reddened hue
Of the hibiscus as I turned boozy

I lost all buds and leaves of my pink tree
A humble floater a poor refugee


February 8, 2018
English Sonnet Lost Love - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member Hymn of the Heart


Hear these hibiscus hymns” humbly pour out,
 A string of verses to  dispel dark doubts;
Across the open pages, they unfurl,
A sad searing summer's song for the world.

The stanzas display vibrant rhythms deep,
Secrets that sharp shadows of the night keep,
 With trenchant, tearing thorns greeting the face
Spreading across the sands of time and space.

A single word, a wholesome whispered plea,
Unlocks the vault of distant memory;
A silent scene spreads out, a vibrant hue,
A glaring truth revealed, both fresh and true.

The poet's soul sustains a slim, slender string,
Where hidden joys and sullen sorrows sing;
It opens up, a fragile floral bloom
To banish shadows, chase the greyish gloom.

The hymns hum “the song my soul never seeks”,
In sensitive rhythms that to the heart speaks,
Each verse unfurling a distressed prayer
Blown in the air like unhappy whisper.

They vibrate “the chorus a poet bleeds”,
Unable to sustain his daily needs,
A roaring resonance that understands,
 Fragility of hearts in distant lands.

The chorus swells and swells, a gentle tide,
Where gleams of empathy can now reside;
It stands so delicate in sunlit rays,
Lost in the midst of nature's golden haze.

It speaks of fateful loss, of love's sweet sting,
The heart,  a shattered mirror that don`t cling,
The hopes it dearly cherished, lost and gone,
The day`s  journey it has to tread alone.

But in that bleeding, seams of strength are found,
A fertile, consecrated lowly ground,
Where signs of letting go begin to glow
And seeds of solace slowly start to grow.        

So let us  listen close, when winds are mild,
To nature's solemn song,  so sweet and wild,
Hear these holy hibiscus hymns gush out
Deep feelings that dispel the mist of doubt.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Hymn of the Heart

They sing about my doorway
in throbbing waves of Florida heat,
repeating melodies of beauty, 
soft and low, soft and low.

Raising limbs in gentle consonance
to strains piercingly sweet,
their mouths wide open choristers,
I see the crimson trembling of their throats,
quivering with symphonious vibrations;
oh, the gentle music they compose,
soft and low, soft and low.

Can you sense their tremulous silence,
most exquisite on the evening air,
a performance for discerning hearts
hear these hibiscus hymns of lavish praise
soft and low, soft and low.

July 22, 2026
Hymn of the Heart Poetry Contest
Hiya Sharma, Sponsor

Premium Member Chipmunk

I love to tease and tear around your yard,
while happily chattering and chirping away.
I enjoy searching for acorns and other nuts,
and stuffing my cheeks full while I run and play.

I sometimes find a rare delicacy in your yard,
yummy tulip bulbs and fresh ornamental flowers.
I recently ate your huge orange hibiscus bloom,
and hope you add more, as your garden has room.

I have several shared living dens in your backyard,
and my family loves the perennial garden the best.
We love to hide among the decorative gnomes,
while chirping and teasing your huge dog on guard.

I love to tease the neighbor’s cat, chirping when he appears,
and laughing at him, as I safely scurry back under your fence.
I continue keeping busy visiting your feeders to steal seeds,
feasting and storing while preparing for my winter needs.

Premium Member The Seventh Seascape


O souls of the Island, 
I have silently 
heard through 
tropical torrents 
and surpassed 
a million miles 
of the milky seas, 
away from 
mint-marine 
silhouettes of my
utopian wonderland, 
as strawberry 
ripples and 
coconut-scented 
musings called 
upon my 
flamboyant spirit, 
to explore those
ebony-emeralds 
of universe and 
envelop my hope in 
creamy pink shells. 

I have soaked in 
sepia impressions, 
ebbing as 
crepe currents 
on splitting shores 
and windsurfed 
through the
hibiscus rays 
of life by forbidding 
heartache hymns 
of yesteryears, 
from lurking in 
jewelled hours 
of today 
and built a 
kryptonite kayak 
to sail in the 
turquoise times 
of tomorrow.
For, now I know 
that the 
opalescent ocean 
has chosen me, 
to return the
riveting spirit 
of sage-rufescent 
rivulets back to 
the 'Heart of 
Humanity's Cosmos', 
shaped in 
soft serenades 
of seraphim. 

When the 
whispers of a 
mauve french-rose, 
blooming within, 
will uncurl their 
farthest wish 
in silken twinkles, 
my eyes will always 
remember these 
watercolor heights 
splashing crayon dusks 
and revealing 
silver moon truths, 
for there's more 
beyond the 
neon networks 
of syzygy pearl skies 
and chestnut reefs, 
yearning to be 
cherished by the
blonde alchemy of love. 

So, I abandon 
those sooty 
regrets that snorkel 
with their fragile fins in 
kohl-lily gulfs
and observe these
constellations 
of intuitions, formed 
by the star-kissed 
manta rays and 
sketch sagacious 
saudades laced 
with hope, as a 
halo around the 
lilac Pole Star. 

In this mortal 
seascape of 
the seventh heaven, 
every orphan 
of darkness
shimmers as 
the beacon 
of lustrous 
sugar-scintilla that 
shapes this world, 
in ivory-smitten 
spheres of 
magically 
diaphanous helix, 
waltzing in whispers 
of wind and water. 
Every lava-skinned, 
feminine flame 
of doleful daffodils 
was once a glittered 
cherry-red gardenia, 
laced with 
cardinal buds, 
who nurtured 
velvet seeds 
in the womb of 
celeste compassion 
and edenic empathy. 

And like myself, 
every sea-maiden of
sequined lush ruminations, 
crowned with 
purple plumerias, 
is a whimsical wayfinder, 
wishing for ~
white bells of serenity 
and blue-star petals of peace.

Wagyuwokk of Mashpee

The Varmint and the Anomally
4/4: Imploite and Harmful: Gossip
written by :Mieusser Adagio 
Songs and Lyrics
fused by Adagio and Mosh Stentor
Comopitions arranged by
Gamwarre Pikkollopizz and Jarrbone Slurper
aka Brothers Brothers Seamount
Faultline Inc.
             where moshing occurs,
    "Sextons and GNSS systems, theodolites,
     from the boat or on land measure
     theofolites

                    MOSHING:MOSHING!
                       "the distance!"
             photosynthesis and dendrology
             where minerals replace the
             original organic material
             preserving the wood's
            cellular structure. 

Flexophone
hOLTON
pEARL
kING
aLPHORN
gLASSHARP
aLTO sHONGht
(GOSIP RUINS FAMILIES
AND TUINS RELATIONSHIPS
IT IS SCRIPT MAKING BY THE dEVIL
AND IS VIEWED AS A SIN IN THE EYES
OF gOD!)
kELLWORTH
bERIMBAU
YAYBAHER
SASANDO
MAYOSHERE
DIDGERIDOO
kERMADEC aRC
Mamungkukumpurangkuntjunya Hill
hIBISCUS
hIBISCUS
Fugue the Blessings of Liberty 
The truth about blue strawberries
Form: Ballad

Premium Member 'Enchantress' by Somov

Upon a harlequin floored stage
a ghostly figure rises amidst vapors
or perhaps it's my dulled imagination
after sipping hot Hibiscus tea ~

No starry starry night
   only darkness foreshadows
    the ball of masquerades
Cloaked in gown of sanguine velvet,
  an enchantress lifts her veil
    a diaphanous disguise for her eyes
     that wish to see a lady fair ~

"Mirror, mirror," she seeks reassurance
   from the looking glass she holds dear
Expecting to hear her feminine allure
  would tempt both man and beast ~
     those who would drool and feast
       upon her tasty flesh ~ 
         hers not virginally pure

No voice does she intercept
as she embraces the ornate silver frame
but a glimpse fills her with fear ~ 
  for in horrors of hell 
     she sees her body on fire

What folly has Somov brushed
  painting strokes of her in such a scene
She was not cast in a tragedy
  that's not what her script lines read
   an enchantress' beauty lasts forever

But lo ~ the mirror is mysterious
  does not hang from wall height ~
    tis far too tall on this nefarious night
What cad is it who cleverly stands
  behind the coddled courtesan's glass?
A praying mantis or jealous ingenue
  who wants her chance to play the part
    of the engaging enchantress
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.
art
Form: Ekphrasis

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace