Long Hibiscus Poems
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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.
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
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!
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
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.
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
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.
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.
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
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