Long Mulberry Poems
Long Mulberry Poems. Below are the most popular long Mulberry by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mulberry poems by poem length and keyword.
The cactus hoovers like a bully daring to be touched. Another cactus of a different type blossoms briefly.
The vegetable garden lies bare this year and wonders why. She doesn't understand that when I sometime grow weary, weak, and worn reaping such small tomatoes, I take a break.
The roses stand erect longing to be photographed. The Iris has had their say and returned for the season. The lawn was beautifully green a few weeks ago, but she looks at me now as she slowly turns brown and pleads for water, forgetting that in summer, I prefer brown, not green. I promised that I would keep her cut and trimmed, but not green.
The fruitless mulberry waves her leaves, standing ready for summer shade. The peony, who doesn't care for high temperatures, is feeling the May heat. I will inform her in a day or two that she will soon join her sister in a more desirous, suitable, and shady place and be transplanted into a large flower pot. She is thriving so well. I must not fail her as I did last year by not being dutiful and prompt enough to provide her a new home.
In back, the Rose of Sharon tree is begging to be noticed. Underneath the tall palms, the plums, peaches, and nectarines are showing signs of a bumper crop this year. Water is limited and scarce; but trees and plants are thriving, and life is shouting!
050521PSCtest, All Yours, Brian Stran
Lucy Locket lived amidst Lakeland Hills, where jay serenaded morning;
Like plum rainbows celebrate sunshine, with never any silent warning.
Lucy was merely twenty years old, like a peach rose, dusted with dew;
And she was also a dutiful teacher, unveiling what children never knew.
Lucy liked to sew and to garden, like green nature, roving everywhere,
Recalling lavish, sunset skies we used to view, in the colors of vanity fair.
Kitty Fisher was Lucy's best friend, amidst many, for she was popular;
Like finches are popular in floriated summer, creating gladness, ocular.
Fancy emerald nature wore fun, fantasy makeup, in its faceted colors;
And unfaltering family flattered fall with visits, beloved like no others.
Kitty lived in the house of very ordinary, like cherry redbirds singing;
Where silver moments comprised golden hours, jeweled time ringing.
Summer snapdragons grew quite lovely, on her sparkling street of sun;
And scarlet maples smiled colors, until the smoky season left, sudden.
Nepalese neighbors narrated tales of sweet nation, at mulberry night,
When nectarous, naval oranges hung ripely, under moon, satiny white.
Purple ranunculus blooms resembled roses, when sunrise echoed dusk;
And 'Marimo Moss Balls' played water polo, while jasmine trailed musk.
Giant water lilies ruled placid lakes, giving rise to titanic, pink blooms;
As golden sun and calm moon vie for dominion, inside separate rooms.
Lucy and Kitty went to a lecture, in a lavish, lavender evening of larks.
The lively, literary topic was much enjoyed, like the sun's dying sparks.
Afterwards, Kitty and Lucy parted, each to their own welcoming home;
Like a green bird of turquoise skies, oft makes its nostalgic way, alone.
Later, Lucy discovered her pocket was missing, its location so unknown,
Like red streaks of gold time, ever fleeing, past a blue, marble milestone.
Next day dawned golden, and Lucy's pocket, she found on her doorstep.
Golden coins were tied to its ribbon. And at Kitty's note, her heart leapt!
For it was Lucy's sparkling, glad birthday, as devoted friends remember;
And Kitty had made it one of her best, like hued leaf nights of November.
'Lucy Locket lost her pocket,
Kitty Fisher found it;
Not a penny was there in it,
Only ribbon round it.'
When the raspberry horizon
is curled up,
shaping caramel-lilac lips
of the cashmere kismet,
singing in a choir of cherry chivalry
and honey-glazed fireflies ~
those snowy stars
simmering in summer silence,
f l i c k e r
a w a y
leaving burgundy blurs of beliefs,
wrinkled in those blinking blemishes
of clementine memories,
which once trailed hysterical footprints
across my fairy-threaded horizons...
And I lay, breathing l o v e
on a pillow of pristine pearls ~
succulent with the silver songs
of perfumed yesteryears ~
chiming through chocolate valleys
and rippling in the ruffles
of origami reveries,
weaved in scarlet sonnets...
where you and I, chakras of the divine ~
w a l t z
like the sunset
and its shadow
through a halo of rose-rings ~
our spiritual silks
rinsed in rubies,
as every aromatic alphabet
caresses those syllables of storms,
stained with the murkiness of maroons
and the velvet rain of remnants
leaves a champagne spark ~
igniting indigo illusions
that whisper
whirling intuitions
in my saffron-kissed kundalini...
" O' thistle-light
distancing me
from my dandelion i n k ~
I'm no longer a paranoid petal
swirling in a havoc of hate and rust,
rather, I'm blossoming ~
aesthetic in strawberry arcs,
dreaming of a reality
above imposters of nightmares,
where my honeysuckle sepals
hold hope as a golden anchor ~
fluttering in pink opal warmth,
and I feel like the heat of life,
for those decaying flowers,
betrayed by
the
torrents
of
t i m e... "
dear lord of the scintillating swan light,
in the fulcrum of fragrances ~
this sailor soulfully sails,
as a telepathic trespasser
tangentially
steering
to an orchard
without
rose-tinted
reveries...
to be the last scent
of forget-me-nots ~
manifesting a meraki of miracles
in those mulberry mosaics,
where the esoteric zephyrs of elysium
still remember me ~
as a sandalwood-scented soulmate
of the forgiving sun...
Midst the mulga and the gidyea out beyond the old Paroo
runs a road which leads to Yowah and a great place it is too.
Where the populace is smitten by an urge they can’t withstand:
Its the lust to find the queen of gems, beneath a timeless land.
With her tantalising beauty and her taunting, twinkling eyes,
Its the radiance of this desert child her lovers highly prize.
Suitors come from every walk of life, from countries quite diverse
and she keeps them courting tirelessly exacting quite a purse.
And the charm of her charisma casts a spell they can’t escape,
so they’ve built a little township there amid that red landscape.
Quite relentless is their quest to toil, a constant ritual,
and they love their leisure moments like their Opal Festival.
Chris and I were asked to join them and present our bush verse show
through the festival proceedings and replied, “We’d love to go.”
First we entertained the children at the school there for a spell
then our host, Gwen Burney, took us for a tour that went down well.
We were shown the local opal fields and dug for Yowah nuts,
then we lunched and watched some golfers sink some rather dubious putts.
But the opal bug had bitten and we sought a licence out,
for we planned to do some noodling or at least just poke about.
But the torture of the digging with just handpicks proved too tough
and we chucked the towel in quickly as we’d simply had enough.
Down in spirits we decided to search out the mulberry wine
there at Roy’s, not far from Gwen’s place, which was said to be real fine.
After scoffing down a sample we were feeling mighty good
and old Roy was sympathetic to our plight and understood.
He produced a bar and shovel and a bottle of his brew,
then we headed back to noodle with our outlook all anew.
Well we dug and sipped and dug and sipped, oblivious to pain
and the next two days we carried on and did it all again.
We were up each morning early and sat cracking all our nuts,
though our hands were full of blisters and a mass of little cuts.
We were both now surely smitten and could not resist her will,
for the bug had surely bitten and we talk about it still.
Yes, its tantalizing colour and its taunting texture’s fine
and we’re flamin' well addicted to Roy’s home-made mulberry wine.
Mary Lou Sims was young and enterprising, like stars routing dark;
Or mauve dawn on the verge of discovery, awaiting time's remarks.
Mary Lou's best friend was Cora Mann, ever since sweet childhood;
When they'd sat in zesty school together, in the town of 'Wildwood.'
They dreamed of opening an antique shop, like an old rose garden;
Awash in butterscotch sun's long memory, scents roaming, wanton.
Other friends visited Mary Lou frequently, like frilly clouds visit sun;
Avid for frothy, plum memories, like formal moon, beyond the fallen.
Family favored Mary Lou with visits, on flowering Fridays of her life;
As raspberry filled a backdrop of days, and plumed flocks were rife.
She lived in the house of tasks and haste, like pink stars, ever shining;
Or butterflies laboring in flowers, near the place of wisteria, climbing.
Striped scarlet seized colorful dawn, on a street of transient starlings;
Where sassy Mary Lou resided, when ravens spread their dark wings..
And neon hues lit noisy nightfall, when nomad neighbors came calling;
In now moments of now and then, when time notably, stops crawling.
'Elephant foot' plants shook earth, while swan flowers glided, moonlit.
Then 'mermaid plants' dove at dusk, as weeping begonias cried a bit.
'Sorceress blue rose' bewitched all, as jade spiral cacti dizzily twirled;
And 'curly locks orchid,' combed her tresses, under starlight, pearled.
Mary Lou and Cora, were closer to their dream. A loan was approved;
And Mary Lou wrote a note to friend, Cora, like colors of joy, suffused.
Mary Lou gathered other letters to be mailed, and also the one to Cora,
With joyful news of the rest of their lives, like mulberry skies of aurora.
She toted and mailed the letters, using a basket, of yellow and green;
Yet, with no word from Cora, worried she was having doubts. Unseen!
But, elation returned when a boy rang her bell, with the letter she'd lost,
For, some acts of kindness are so great, that you could not place a cost!
'A-tisket a-tasket
A green and yellow basket
I wrote a letter to my friend
And on the way I dropped it,
I dropped it, I dropped it,
And on the way I dropped it.
A little boy he picked it up
And put it in his pocket.'
Woolen objects wrapped up in fine linen tucked away on a shelf bear the scars of age-old men lamenting in their years, while the sound of young men gets ready to join the conscription line thunders in the streets and anxious mothers running around in a frenzy consoling their sons.
The temperature keeps rising and mulberry tree in all its splendor stand still absorbing the peace as the sentiment of the earth embraces its fate and looking around for an answer that have traveled around the world to console those innocent souls.
I watched the squirrels running up the mulberry tree, hiding among the branches in a peculiar motion that I could not understand. The animals bear the witness of the hidden grave that lies at its roots. The mulberry tree is a witness to the brutal murder hanging from the throne where the mulberry tree has grown.
I feel a sudden urgency in my feet propelling me to walk in the desert heat and mix the desert dust with sand and sprinkle it all over the land but I can see a barrier erected in the way and the moment quickly fades away.
My heart is invoking a strange feeling and I cannot understand the meaning, I forced myself to pull it back but an element keeps wrestling with my spirit setting my heart on fire.
It is not the fire that glows in firewood, it isn’t the fire that dance like a servant should, it is the fire of the weak that is speaking to the deep and the matchless price that you have to pay. It’ burning with internal fury paving the way for a new chapter as the vision gets wider.
I can see them lining up, hundreds of them standing at attention and their guns strapped across their back. They are getting ready for a mission that requires great devotion they are up against the army guard and the notorious “alcoholic” lords.
The guns alone cannot defeat them, the belly dance, hips up and bottom down and galls sliding beneath their night gowns with ribbons and skirts to move away the earth and squeeze the passion out of their heart and melt the pride of hard tone men.
My heart is contemplating a delicate matter so ride with me to the next level and I will show you something spectacular, there are millions more miles to go and my heart is in tune for the greatest show.
Written: May 12, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
Quote: “Set yourself on fire and seek those who fan your flame.” By Rumi
**********************************
I sliced through the strings
that thawed my dreams in shadow,
tossing them into the time tiara
of celestial orbs and supple styles.
Periwinkle-plum dawns defy time;
Bright blooms grow in cosmic cracks.
Dusk falls on barren land, esoteric embers;
With an aching heart, I walk alone,
serenading with blue lotus meteors.
The wand of Kismet gleams akin to stone,
as cinnamon-glazed magic unravels.
Each shift is a fascinating fight—
light-flecked drape, lyrical elixir, elegies;
curling mulberry-leaf marrow fades.
After the kernel, I strive for clarity
without crash or catharsis, without pain.
A lovely wind touches my smile—
In the pulse of erased promise.
An impending divorce is stipulated.
In echoes of exquisite and ubiquitous,
lavender-sequined crystals of shift,
I sail beyond the rhyming reefs to embrace divorce.
Cut wistful strings, salty lines, diving into rhapsody...
Torn uncanny links below heavy waves,
free to explore unmet routes
amid vanilla plankton tears.
May I find solace in every crooked teal smile.
O, if sepia pearls and reverie state a split,
I release and love what is not meant to stay.
Even with moon megalomania, using past wisdom,
the plants wide wings amid the warm sky
and herbs flexed with a deceased breeze of joy.
I sip in the glorious, gold-and-cherry air,
Clouds of bewilderment have dissipated.
In a captivating cosmos, clarity clings.
Hunger, turmeric-tinted roses follow an idyllic climb,
and whispers shout boldly—unafraid, Nix!
Ominous night glows appear as we fly across the sky.
We claim our position under brilliant beams
and the rose-glazed moon,
while myths merge across endless twilight.
Heartbroken after its fateful odyssey,
among the stars, free from a fixed kismet.
I will sleep calmly, wishing for plum rings
to create a pearlescent paradise.
The Estuary of Esoteric Embers
laces my home with soul-searching chimes,
whistling away in flavors of forgiveness.
When the sky is a
sequestered sanctuary,
and the clouds croon
for sinking star-beams,
listen to the euphoric hymns of silence,
for seething storms throned
beneath rainbow castles
shall never obscure the
crystalline colors of compassion,
amidst thickened fangs
of dwelling darkness,
constantly trying to
seize peacock pigments
within violet-blue seas
of sequined sentiments…
O’ beloved white rose~
perfumed in vanilla love,
let not the wolf-spider gaze,
mirroring envy within black widow hearts,
confuse your diamond vision.
It’s just another day,
enveloped in a warm sakura sunrise,
there the gales of greed
looming in ghostly flecks,
question the redolence of rivulets
behind your veiled vigor.
There’s no reason to fear
when hope flows and drifts
like comets flying as fluttering butterflies
across the butterscotch horizon.
Remember, when the sage sun
seeps into foggy crevices,
and deserted dunes
speak in ashen accents,
their choice of words do not define
the rhythm of your seraphic symphony.
Your merlot wine spirit is
the whimsical wand turning unspoken
tales into wildflower wishes.
There’s no need for an alchemist
nor a sorcerer to concoct
spells that rearrange constellations,
as your voice swirls in magical mists.
You and I, are every last thing
we need to conquer the bewitching
perimeters we truly deserve.
Tonight, when my lids rest upon the
dreamscape of daffodils and dahlias,
I see that look in your eye.
I ponder, is it me that you long for?
Am I the unfading ink
within your saccharine sonnets?
I yearn to be the one you talk
about in sweet seclusion.
This trembling canvas longs
for no other skin to caress the acrylic
edges of my aching soul,
and I do not need
the wind and water
beneath whistling willows
to write my destiny
in green and gold.
We don’t need shades of shadows
following our intertwined silhouettes,
yet I let these metaphors
merge with the heat of
your passionate presence,
as you and I break through
the landscapes of grief
with mutual attraction
like the mulberry rays
between the moon and earth..
It was time...
Past eventide, he crawls in.
Playing with my hair, the whistling breeze was,
Teasing me.
Like fireflies, the distant city lights grinned,
Vexing me.
Sighing in fragrant air, wisped the meek blossoms
Pestering me.
And sat I embraced, in my window
Whining.... and waiting...
For that White Goblin...!
It was time....
And he knew that I knew
He was looking at me
Sneaking through the peep-holes
Of mulberry leaves.
He knows how the poison called Patience works
Draining the last drop of life
Yet refusing to kill...
"That loathsome White Goblin..!"
Past the period of silent conversation
"Hey! Sweet Champagne..!"
He bows and greets.
I uttered not words but a gush of fire
"Expect a bitter-gourd tonight!"
His chuckles are callous, and so is he
" O! You hateful White Goblin..!"
It was time...
The tribunal was set and ready
And he who was accused, stood guiltlessly
And I, the prosecutor, alledged my charges
"Illegal are the broken vows, under the rule of Eros"
"Guilty of lurching me, you, who leave me alone"
"On the darkest of nights, you,
Who walk away without a word"
"Justify lest you are held a traitor!"
" You brazen White Goblin..!"
With his head held high, in divine aura
A faint smile kissed his lips,
Cloaking the moisture of his eyes.
Glancing at me, most humbly
He said...
"Your Highness, blame me not for lurching you.."
"For its I, who, holds your glance in mirror"
"Its I who follows you in your shadows"
"Its I who spins your thoughts"
"And its I who braids your dreams..."
"With the threads of boundless affection."
"On the darkest of nights.....
Right here, I was, behind you, Love
Holding you through, only out of sight.."
"Scared to look into your eyes
Drenched in undeserved tears."
"I envy them, for they hold your eyes
That otherwise...
Hold my image..."
"Forgive me, your Highness
My strength is flawless
But for this little weakness."
In his moist eyes
The reflection of my smile
Held the court adjourned....
February fourth nineteen ninety nine...
Signified birth of our second bundle of joy
whereby linkedin chromosomes betwixt
the missus and I intimately expressed ourselves
and me would alloy
courtesy meiosis the miracle
of human reproduction would deploy
distribution of genetic material.
Full term newborn occured
Suburban Mercy Hospital birthplace
(2701 Dekalb Pike, Norristown, PA 19401)
nine months after spermatozoon gave chase
to ovulating ova
(cue all around the mulberry bush...
pop goes the weasel),
the former latter did embrace,
where sonogram revealed inchoate face
courtesy yours truly burst into
singing amazing grace
adoring newborn exquisite
as finely wrought lace
a biological daughter frisson
snap, pop, and crackling within myspace
automatically, immediately, and ultimately
ingratiating special place
within mine heart of darkness.
No greater purposefulness
exists than to behold thee alive
bearing witness regarding thee
exiting thru birth canal ye did dip and dive.
Tethered to umbilical cord
analogous to astronaut
linkedin to mother ship
bobbing and weaving
once forced out the womb
thru metaphorical fjord
inconsolable offspring crying,
no matter papa implored
though nonreligious, nevertheless
ofttimes paradoxically invoking lord.
How quickly orbitz around the sun sped away
crawling and climbing in no time
atop highest ledge utmost goal without delay,
which might help explain
mine premature hairs of gray
and your dare devilish more frightening
than being hunted down courtesy janissary
(or so I imagine) above exaggeration, I may
beg poetic license and pray
ye anonymous reader enjoy
reading about our precocious Shay
(Hebrew for beautiful)
progeny, who though developmentally challenged
frequently ordinarily calm, cool and collected dada
uttering stronger epithet than oy vey.
Now, one score plus two years
astride planet earth ye attest
to mine wide eyed opened amazement
buzzfeeding, snapchatting and livingsocial
(shutterflying a pinteresting life)
more so than me at twenty two,
no matter I did detest
living under same roof as parents,
cuz yours truly felt like
most unwanted guest!