Long Mimosa Poems
Long Mimosa Poems. Below are the most popular long Mimosa by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mimosa poems by poem length and keyword.
Mimosa memories
Time beyond such odd times
Old-fashion harmonies
Chime echoing strange mimes
Yes the touch-me-not fest
A long ago feeling
A fork road on my quest
Touching thorny pricks sting
Day of unhurried wit
On long-forgotten fields
Footfalls in strange odd bits
Echoes that shadows yield
Cluster of primal fears
Unseen yet still stalking
Mimosa thoughts endear
Old corridors calling
Nothing can yet outlast
Echoes of time now past
Waxing and waning fast
Sadness once first now last
Mimosa colours tint
Blur edges of colour
Now ancient haunting hint
Passage of old flavours
Old school days now seem odd
Mimosa memories
Taunting and haunting plod
Upon strange history
Leon Enriquez
18 July 2017
Singapore
Have they ever asked themselves
what's the purpose of this life;
and why we are born of a mother
who leads us to a quiter shore?
These are the thoughts of an innocent mind...
questioning the diffidence of the eartly man!
Have they ever seen showers feed
the blossoms of a peach tree?...
Warm raindrops that Nature offers
to magnify the grandness of flowers!
These are the thoughts of an innocent mind...
seeing beauty when all ignore surprise!
Have they ever seen the majestic pine trees sway,
almost piercing the wandering clouds of color rose...
drifting towards the lustrous sunset of May;
can a strayed soul obtain redemption with deep-felt remorse?
These are the thoughts of an innocent mind...
contemplating creation with the purest feeling!
Have the ever stopped along the roads
swarmed with mimosa and jasmine and inhale
the fragrance of their tiny flowers,
being totally inhabriated by their smell?
These are the thoughts of an innocent mind...
thrilled by the natural state of the wild!
Have they ever seen those cities made of concrete,
where the errants struggle to breath,
and sunlight is as rare as an uninvited sunset;
there the church bells toll in extreme heat!
These are the thoughts of an innocent mind...
seeking,but not finding spirituality of any kind!
Perfect beauty
I gaze upon
the loveliness
of the dawning sun
glistening
in your hair,
that new sun dress
you were so
excited about
softly flowing
in the warm breeze,
geraniums blooming
on a terra cotta veranda,
vibrant red against
a morning glory sky,
a sparkling mimosa
in your hand as
pelicans float silently
above melodic
aqua marine waves...
then as you see me,
your mesmerizing smile
reminds me that
perfect beauty
is what I see
every morning
with you
Good morning Soupers
Warm evenings have that lazy feel,
As the sun sets upon the day.
An orange ball suspended,
As all cares now swept away.
The exotic smells in the perfumed air,
That lies heavy all around.
Mimosa now that in full bloom,
As its branches drape the ground.
Do you ever look at the sky?
As the stars come out at night.
When you’re held by that someone specials arms,
And don’t want to say goodnight.
Though no spoken word is uttered,
As eyes gaze into eyes
It’s said there windows to the soul,
Mere feelings can’t disguise.
Love can just be fleeting,
With precious thoughts we steal.
And in that brief encounter,
We know that it’s for real.
A SONG OF DARKNESS
DR RANJIT DUTTA
When the sleepless nights
Disappear in my eyelids
All my saddest thought
Awake up silently and
hammered my bleeded heart.
The eye-drops are so
Rude and disobedient
They drench my cheeks
despite my wish ,
Time also stands as wall on my path. ,
The dreams thrill on the
Bed of thorns
Like a paralysis patient.
The burning fire of mind mind
Shapes my heart into ashes.
The seasons come and go
On their own way,
The pages of my life
Look also faded
With dust covered there on;
The pains become tired and
Merge into sweet smiles .
The smiles are nothing
But mimosa pudika
Just faded on
A small touch of pain
MYSTIC MAGIC OF WINTER
Blazing Sun, dazzling glow, sparkling snow, puzzling proforma.
Jingle bells swinging heads, bringing angelic aroma.
Magic of winter enters in snow-white panorama.
Splendid Snow Flakes grow hidden shy silent without murmur.
Himalayan Birch wears ivory-white bark as armor.
Chapter of winter in cold grammar: Winter crops by farmer.
Frozen dewdrops have chosen snowdrops to glitter and shine.
Winter-game coolly claims ice, snow storm, frost bite to align.
On snow-charmed essence of reminiscence, mind to incline.
Come more closer to make me warmer, My Dear! Am I right?
Wind cheater, comforter, room heater all is here. Don’t fight.
Before sleep, mimosa to sip, kiss me deep, hug me tight.
12/23/18
Second Place
'Bunny-Jump, Honey-Lump, Finny-Chump' Contest
by Caren Krutsinger
Caren, whose poetry sings with grand plumage,
swims with bouquets of flowers and such. You
inspire me! And aloha to William :)
HAWAII
Bird of paradise, plumeria, jasmine,
orchids, gardenia, hibiscus, primrose.
Aloha sea — paradise welcomes thee.
Cup of gold, elephant’s ear, fuchsia and firecrackers.
Lantana, glory bush, pineapple and Waikiki.
Queen Emma lily, prickly pear, silversword and sugarcane.
Hawaii islands erupting with ecstasies —
scents that rise the temperature, hues that squeal with desire,
cascading sounds of God’s mirth, adventure on steroids.
Come in, ebb and flow in dugout boats - leis floating
upon the deep-blue skies. Your hearts are pounding drums.
Don’t be shy. Grab this shelf of paradise. Don’t let go.
Aloha friends! Let’s all be friends. Planes fly in.
Koa, coconut, ‘ohi’ a lehua, candlenut, monkeypod,
noni, and lemon-scented gum. Mahalo nui!*
O’ahu, Maui, Kaua’i, Big, Lana’i and Moloka’i —
find your serenity, your northern shore, the allure
of life. Grab yourself a blue hawaii, piña colada,
mai tai, mimosa. Fill your cups with Eden’s fruit.
8/19/2020
*thank you very much ma-hah-lo-noo-ee)
(In language of flowers, mimosa is conjuration of secret love: no one knows that I love you)
A doe-eyed blue gaze, twirl of curly tress
feisty air froth , fizz of golden champagne
crystal glasses clink, her daisy print dress
shimmering silver, all scrambled in brain.
Cold ice melted, and love warmed up again.
Mimosa kindled in yellow sweet scent
memories cloud, ... ignorant , innocent.
an empty ring finger, submersed in wine
a secret love, never said what it meant
till dusk I linger...she'll never be mine.
2nd Apri 2020
Sponsor Beth Evans
Contest Name Delightful Dizains
If I have not walked in nature,
Once a day,
If I have not heard a bird sing,
If I have not crouched before a blade of grass,
If I haven’t prayed in front of an old tree
Covered with climbing ivy,
If I have not seen a tiny insect fly
without fear of the hour,
If I have not seen a field sparsely covered with ancient wheat,
If I haven’t shivered in front of a red-throated
curious about my presence,
If I have not regretted his absence for long seconds,
If I have not laid eyes on leaves
or stones without destiny,
If I have not walked in nature
once a day
If I have not seen the Ajonc in winter
and the poppy in summer, modestly red bright,
If I have not been dazzled by the flamboyance
of a mimosa,
If I have not looked up to the poets
and clouds of the sky,
If I have not left the neighborhood tired of everything, and posed
1000 questions to nature,
I’m losing my mind, I’m going crazy like a cockroach.
Men do that too often.
Everyone called Joanna Wilde, Joanie, like an abbreviated crescent moon,
Of which she was much enamored, with its silky, maroon darkness tunes.
Pert Joanie was a young night owl, loving lone whip-poor-wills, singing,
And bewitching midnight stars of glitter, and a calm silence, for thinking.
Joanie was a successful librarian, and always dreamed of advancement;
And having the morning shift, she worked hard for career enhancement.
On weekends, Joanie and fatigued friends, had fun days in fresh flowers,
Below feathery clouds floating far, in warm honeyed sun, of tonic powers.
Sunshine fever fetched family and kisses, when flowers feigned fainting,
'Ere purple finches stood still at noon, in jade scenes, like fine paintings.
Joanie lived in the house of starry eclipse, of dusk and moon hiding sun;
The red, gold and purple not much missed, afore a rare night was done.
Sweet sounds and scents traveled far, along her street of silver willows.
And minty butterflies kept so busy, as sunbeams slept, on cloud pillows.
Neighbors brought their needlepoint, with news, on nice, nostalgic eves;
For nothing's as neat as nonstop conversation, like a chattering of leaves!
'Cuckoo' flowers denoted colorful hours, as 'busy Lizzy' steadily bloomed;
While mimosa blossoms wore lush silk in sun, in the teal world, perfumed.
Purple bleeding hearts mourned sunset, in the summer of vibrant sparkles.
Red carnations shone as if for queenly coronation, awash in gold marvels.
Joanie was finally up for promotion. That set her ruby heart to dreaming;
But, working nights, she suffered burnout, like grape sun, when scheming.
Her habits had to change-and soon! Like 12 hours spent amidst a lily moon.
She'd hence be a night owl only rarely; like a sable nightingale's new tune!
'Birds sing in the morn
To tell us to rise,
And he who sleeps late
Will never be wise.
For early to bed
And early to rise
Is the way to be healthy
And wealthy and wise.'
It all worked out for the best, to the pride and pleasure of Joanie's family;
Who loved her enough to be a part of, every heartache and fuchsia victory!