Long Orchids Poems
Long Orchids Poems. Below are the most popular long Orchids by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Orchids poems by poem length and keyword.
In my window there are two beautiful orchids
They do best in east facing window with morning sun
sheltered for the hottest sun of the day
There are many myths about the Orchid
One of those is the shape of the tubers
It is said that the name orchid comes from the Greek 'testicle'
Seed pods containing several millions microscopic seeds
How awesome .........
The first orchid farmers were Chinese
Already for a few thousand years ago, the Orchid used for decoration
Some would say that the Orchid is a plant parasitism - it's just a myth
The plant can live for example on the trees but not of the trees
One day if you go past my window - see how beautiful my Orchids are
07.03.2014
A-L Andresen :)
Written: June 02, 2024 For Regina McIntoch Contest
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Discovering God doesn't bear broad browsing
He's all over on Earth's orbit or cosmic orbs
He is not an allusion or scarce
Faith is a notion that God conflates with spirit
Life is a cynosure; we should not deviate
Fulfill kismet, will balmily distaff nemesis
God is love, auric values lighten others' lives
He is present as a gentle breeze sways palm fronds
He hears the soft rainfall on homeless tin roofs
In gloom, He watches ants swarming on ivory stone
Seek Him in the joyful gaze of a child
Or in the fragrance of blooming orchids
Or as you comfort a grieving friend
He is present at the first cry of a baby
And the last breath of a dying man
He is there as waves crash onto dazzling coasts
And as seagulls soar across vast white skies
Seek God as you bite into a ripe mango
Or as coconut juice quenches your thirst
The divine manifests in subtle forms.
In the desert skies turn silent on the evening red
Sun continues drifting down the dunes to set
Burnt brown over quick sands sinking
Camels find a footing that is not there
Slip on the soft sand measured
While they tread on to Casablanca
A distance from the stars
Sure not to wake the dead
As soundless as they are
From below the surface a lizard's head pops out
Emerges from daytime sleep
Shakes off unwanted debris
To take its place among the living
There must be a bug or two about
Sage fragrance drifts in from the sea as sweet
Where thousands of miles separates dry land
Orchids too can not be seeded easily
Remembered only by the senses delicate aroma
With no chance to bloom out there
Sands, quick to sink, settle below the surface
Discover warmth uncovered in the moment
Brought back to life by winds blowing north
To fly like spirits, to split the air with sounds
Then come back down to quiet once again
Climb on the back of a camel moving
Each step it makes gets closer to the end
A mirage not taken lightly
Dunes speak, join with the past to be no more
Carried on the winds eternal sleep
On conversations about heat
Talk about the sun being lost in the sky
Seen through travelers sore eyes
Long gone, stars fall, far from the desert
Not far from here together
sweet and citron voice, fondled a whisper
did you say, "O my Love, pulling me close
refreshing spring water, cooler and crisper
restless eyes now crave, to forever repose
a vista of orchids, into my soul you dive
where a frantic heart, beats in your fervour
No more secrets, so effortlessly you arrive
in every corner, dreams in vain endeavour
in swarm of thousand kisses, I slowly melt
impetuous arms hug, a wild maddened sea
faintly glowing cinder, every cell now felt
an embrace, in your lockup, you set me free
Dated 7th June 2020
Featured third in best new poem list
Sponsor craig cornish
Contest Name Hugs |
On Earth's bare bosom, do flowers dream?
A panoply of beauty flitting from flower to flower,
with bees reeling drunk in their ecstasy.
As a flock of vivid white crepes stroll an apricot sky,
chirps of restless cuckoos chuckle in chorus.
In the goodness of this conjured grandeur
enchanted in splendour of their pristine smiles,
do flowers dream, staring up in awe at the sky?
In melody of marigolds, and hedges of honeysuckles,
a sweetheart waits for it's favourite butterfly to return,
wirh fragile wings fanning frills of pink gladiolous.
Perhaps that's when flowers dream.
A Lily of the Valley veiled in heavenly dusk
with purple pansies, and bewitching buttercups,
vanilla orchids in some caramel mellow scent,
satin glossy leaves, showing hyacinths translucent.
Among thousand vignettes of golden glowing topaz
dreams of flowers float, their petals become rain,
only to be pricked in sharp thorns.
a painful truth behind those fairy tales in prose.
specks of red blood adorn their rainbow robes.
Forget me Nots giggling, He loves you Not!
In mystery of allure, dreams are lost.
Date written 11th July 2020
Sponsor Regina McIntosh
Contest Name Nature |
A friend once told me flowers are the smiles from God above.
Put together with the sweetest parts of all his love.
She said he made each different as we would like that best.
And then he added perfume so forever, they’d be blessed.
Roses and magnolias, the sweetest among sweet.
Honeysuckles on a vine, they’re such a lovely treat.
Daffodils that burst in lovely lemon everywhere.
Orchids, oh, so stunning with their regal style and flair.
Peonies are precious as they droop and then they lean.
Gladiolus, I have even seen them grow in green.
Lily of the Valley, with a history that's long.
Their beauty is beyond reproach, their sweet aroma strong.
Countless types and colors, too many here to mention.
They are nature’s loveliest of all of God’s inventions.
After winter’s cold, harsh days, the happiness they bring.
Is sent from up above, they are the smiles that come in spring.
April 6, 2012
When the smoky quartz sun
slumbers into a cold winter,
we see the aftermath of a garnet twilight,
it is then, we find rose stars
that refuse to abandon us in shivering solitude,
and beneath snake-skinned skylines of nadir,
we learn to appreciate
the truest colors of nature……
Hope is but a hollow rope,
hanging loose on empty lies~
splattered across eclipsed skies,
and this aching heart sighs,
singing to the fallen flowers,
fading into depths of
black-magic silence,
for peace is a distant memory,
frozen within pixelated Polaroids
of poignant pain.
I remember the night
I was unplugged and strangled
in toxic tremors,
slipping into fatigued negligence,
too tired of fighting a
battle with no prudence,
but no one hears the unspoken,
amidst the tears that
croon in tragic tunes.
Now my mind is a muted mausoleum;
weathered and withdrawn,
impregnated with deceased dreams~
and remnants embalmed in poison ivy.
Yet diabolical thoughts
keep whirling
through funeral chaos,
to cloak my conscience in
a glass casket of sleepless uncertainties,
smothering the last breath I held.
I do not seek an orchard
blooming with butterfly orchids
and pristine pansies,
yet, somehow, I am the wrinkled
willow~
awaiting dancing rays
of diamond twilight.
Perhaps this is how a poet grieves,
writing epitaphs with
bloodstained ink,
when familiar faces are
clothed in ivory farewells,
to rest amongst the forgotten,
away from the cruelty that creeps.
I know not the synonyms for healing,
the poems I’ve woven beneath
starry skies now flow undone,
and I am burning,
in my crippling confusion,
pondering why the sun is now
a curse in disguise,
why do I long to walk
through forests of ruins,
where the mauve moon was,
when insomniac
instruments of galaxies
strummed broken strings
of feathered fate.
So take this poem, weave these words
it into the final line
of tasteless satires,
streaming in the
rhythm of zestless zenith,
for I have no desire to
pretend and play,
or swirl and sway
when all I knew now is a
melancholic mystery untold.
So listen to the rhapsody of tears~
I am a frazzled firefly,
eloquently tangled in the
ruthless roots of jinxed junipers.
All I Have in Life
My joyful 'witchy' friend
thinks only good of ev'ryone
She taught me how love works
conspires constantly with angels;
captured my soul in water colors
She's the true spirit of friendship
My two sensitive new friends
have allowed illness to intrude
and all I have to give them
are paper orchids and good wishes
and butterflies of poetry
Now I hope they listen to their inner truths
They are the reasons for friendship
Then there are my false friends
They faded like fog from daylight
They mystified me, made me feel regret
I try, to seldom think of them
For they were not friendship
I have friends who are
drama queens, they add 'delight,'
my favourite word, and often they
can be as distant as mountains
and as purposely absurd
I treasure moments with them
They are the poetry of friendship
I have friends whose children revolve,
like tiny planets, around them
I have friends filled with passion
too deep for expression
and some who never seem to lift their heads
above clouds of depression
They are the longings of friendship
I have friends whose expectations,
I failed to live out, and so they left
I have friends in far away places that
I'm always promising to revisit
I have friends with whom I share a perfect affinity
but with no time left over to spend with me
They are the lost potential of friendship
I have had really good friends, until
our lives drifted apart and all of our longing
we kept hidden in our hearts,
expressed in imaginary cards
and letters we often failed to write
They are the regret of lost friendship
For me there can be no end to the cycle
of friendships -I am certain
For all I have to live for
is my friends.
Suzanne Delaney
When all our words have been spoken
whether in conflict or love
when we find ourselves under the Elms
holding the wrinkled hand of time in comfort
treasuring each breath as a precious flower
scented with the memories of years
will we remember each moon filled night
when we embraced the ruffled hair of wanton dreams
finding warmth as we searched for honeycomb tongues
we found sweet and intoxicating when we wore the masks of lovers
dappled by flickering candles, lost in rhythmic orgasms of saxophones
mixed with roses and purple orchids dripping with the wine of paradise
or will forgotten memories be our lot
drifting away with old silent eyes in realms of shades
that see only strangers and floating shadows
trapped in a fog wandering through our minds
a wish, that we'd be warm in our reflections
as we sit under the Elms bound by the invisible sense of time
holding silent memories like a golden jewel
knowing our time is more passionate than our kiss
as we treasure each final breath of our love
7/4/19 contest Love Poems for Her
Amaryllis is called naked lady
Bloodroots’ leaves bright not shady
Calla Lilly shows face as a bowl
Dog's mercury sounds no howl
Eastern red bud grows in valley
Freesia's known for fragrance rally
Ghost flower belongs to figwort group
Heathers hang on stem bodily makes loop
Impatiens sway with beaming eye
Jasmine's color captivates no one can deny
Kangaroo paw dances with smile
Lily of the Nile poses with style
Marigold is unmarried has no groom
Narcissus has Greek mythology abloom
Orchids' in high Valley charmingly bloom
Protea's cures diarrhea health does resume
Queen of the night vanilla cactus's dander but beauty
Ranunculus's with multi layered petals not fruity
Spiraea meadow sweet's a shrub smells
Tiger Lilly wears nice tiger's dress like bells
Umbrella's top shed has of Cosmos yellow
Viburnums are together clustered fellow
White Rock Rose's soft no rocky sight
Xanthorrhoea is of Australia's bright
Yellow Anemona's beauty butter cup size
Zinnia means offers of goodness prizes
Written on: 20th April 2016
Spring Abecadarian Contest Sponsored by Shadow Hamilton