Long Pergola Poems
Long Pergola Poems. Below are the most popular long Pergola by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pergola poems by poem length and keyword.
Mary Moorman took a Polaroid snap of
John Kennedy at the exact moment he
received his fatal head wound. Her
picture has fuelled many conspiracy
theories.
I’m inclined to opine
(it’s a passion of mine –
to conclusions you’ll think me
a jumper)
that assassins abound,
widely scattered around,
and they’re thicker than bugs
on a bumper!
In this photo alone
sniper gunmen unknown,
and it only takes looking
to nail ‘em.
(Boy, if I’d been around
when those witches were found,
they’d a made me the mayor
of Salem!)
Take that guy on the stairs
who’s been snapped unawares
(you would see, if we had him
in slo-mo):
he’s a pal of Rosselli,
‘cos I’ve seen him on telly,
and I’m outing him now – Perry Como!
And the perp on the plinth
with the sleazebag named Cynth –
he’s a Russian, with codename
“Zapruder”.
Wait – she’s “Marilyn”, yes?
Geez, why didn’t I guess?
Then he obviously must be …
Ry Cooder!
Between Badge Man and Ry
there’s a big hairy guy,
who is clearly preparing
to shoot.
Why can’t anyone see?
Ngo Dinh Diem, obviously –
he’s disguised in a chimpanzee suit!
Where the pergola ends –
it screams out at you, friends –
near where Cynth and Zapruder
are grappling,
waits a killer from Cuba
with poison-dart tuba,
dressed up as a sycamore sapling.
I’m alerting the Pope
to conspiracy dope
that’s contained in this
Polaroid snap –
What? The sapling is lush?
It’s a Texas-type bush?
Why’d you give me that
paranoid crap?
As I walk around my garden, I note
that my daphnia is in full flower
it is always my first bush to show
and fill my garden with tantalising scent.
My Yucca always gives me colour
in the bleak month of December
standing there so stately
each year another head appears.
The trellis will soon be awash
with its orange trumpets
that brighten up an otherwise dull wall
and makes me smile as they reach up high.
While my various rose bushes
gleefully soon will cover my pergola
mingling with the honeysuckle
filling garden with most delightful scent.
Ah everywhere the promise of Spring abounds
How I long for the warm days to come
when I can sit out by my ponds
and watch fish darting hither and tither.
Dragonflies some enormous and so pretty
visit my lilles and briefly settle there
Spring the month of my birth
will at last soon be here.
On
the
threshold
of twilight,
firefly lamps ignite,
Bewitched children covet the charming, floating gold orbs
abandoning play to chase tiny elfin creatures, capturing joy in glass jar globes.
Blooming phosphorescent glow spills magical light, charming effulgence for hanging wisteria pergola. Perfumed purple clusters scent
sunset duskiness. Fragrance, lamps, and a cozy sanctum form playtime perfection till little eyes grow sleep heavy, fairyland abandoned for soft eiderdown quilts. Firefly lanterns grow still and dull, their flawless light extinguished.
August 5, 2026
Stars or Fireflies Fibonacci Poetry Contest
Hiya Sharma, Sponsor
On days of early sunrise many colors greet my eyes
Girls in their pastel Easter dresses is one my eye spies
When looking at all the colors presented by Crayola
As I repose on day off in my pergola
Down where wild things play and I would want to stay all day
Where I could reach.. touch the sky-blue sky from this place of play
Across the way where Mulberry Tree gives its fruit to me
Then I can make that Mulberry jam that will draw many bees
Mulberry such picture pretty color to spread on toast
Great color Mulberry for jam on toast this I will boast
Over by the Mulberry Tree where the Brown Turkey grows
Just below the running rose on the trellis of Misty Rose
Nature offered Crayola colors that we favored
Even Razzle Dazzle Rose sunsets that day's end flavored
(This was inspired by Linda-Marie Brianna contest about Crayola Crayon.)
*Image of Park Colorful Flower Beds by Pixabay.
A Garden Choice Review
Dawn chanced a lifetime free trial,
aged step heed, reflect takes a smile,
advent ease midst obliged swart rise,
upraised eyelids, greet resumed ties.
Askew motif skirts gracious sky,
root arbor involved climbs, brace I,
beg my visit be naught seduced,
by verdant needs that I conduced.
So that my stay appease awhile,
sense garden bear test and trial,
light bred butterflies freely pause,
sweet nectar kids air for a cause.
Circular flight, breath-taking view,
vultures outcast, humming in lieu,
buds mosaic film swaddled highs,
bristled piquant seeps amid byes.
Proud Asters craves near pergola,
challenged view graced Gladiola,
peaceful corner shrined Lilies grow,
pomp Peonies dressed, heels a row.
Daisies pray, tops gold masque faces,
dons Sunday whites, kirtled bases,
Roses steals random spendthrift rays,
soft fate spares prodigal scent sprays.
Cherry Blossoms sublets space loft,
Poppies darts to the sky, face waft,
Lavender peeks, probing yon fence,
while Stonecrops hugs, wholly dense.
Well-played Zinnias, grand casting,
and faint Hydrangeas lacks fasting,
Larkspurs cherishing stellar show,
pebbled stools crept patron burrow.
Daffodils ochers paired sunlight,
dreamt Gardenias sniffs midnight,
Buttercups box, a game of chess,
Meadows re Persians more or less.
Azalea teeming, Chives parade,
Orchids poise, Tulip's serenade,
spurns yon green Periwinkle blue,
sad bids my prized garden adieu.
Revised: 2020 July 28
Original: 2020 April 01
*2nd Place*
Garden Inspirations
~~BJ Legros Kelley: Judging 2022 April 20
*1st Place*
A Brian Strand Rhyme
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2021 August 09
*2nd Place*
Petal, buds, blossoms, bees, birds, butterflies!
~~Silent One: Judged 2020 April 02
Last year we had a rental place;
But this year we bought a house and land.
It's an older home with charm and grace
That has the potential to be something grand.
All it needs is a devoted tender loving hand.
I just painted our room a pale yellowish-green,
Reminiscent of sunlit mountain meadows.
A pergola with a flowering vines design completes the scene
Forest-green trim around the door and windows
Will accentuate the curtains in the shadows.
There are lawns in both the front and back--
I want all that fertile soil to work for me!
There is already a gardener's tool shack
By the path to a fruitful dwarf lemon tree.
Raised beds and berry bushes are what I foresee.
We can almost grow just about anything
While living in the Salinas valleys.
I wish that I had more land for everything
That I'd like to plant: varieties of citrus trees,
Grape vines, and peach, avocado, and cherry trees.
Do magpies communicate with the dead?
It is not uncommon to see magpies in a cemetery
Silent and calm, watch over the graves,
The flowery tombs and the so dogmatic crosses
I often see them in cemeteries thinking,
As if to speak to those who are underground,
They go on a tree, listening to the graves
In a silence that makes all hearts vibrate.
I see them so often with one eye caressing the crosses,
On a green trellis or in an antique pergola,
With the dead, hours they communicate
As to bring them, pious comfort in the afterlife.
Les pies communiquent elles avec les morts ?
Il n’est pas rare de voir des pies dans un cimetière
Silencieuses et calmes, veiller sur les tombes,
Les tombes fleuries et les croix si dogmatiques
J’en vois souvent dans les cimetières penser,
Comme pour parler à ceux qui sont sous terre,
Elles vont sur un arbre, écoutant les tombes
Dans un silence qui fait vibrer tous les cœurs.
Je les vois si souvent d’un œil caresser les croix,
Sur un treillis vert ou dans une pergola antique,
Avec les morts, des heures elles communiquent
Leur apportant un pieux réconfort dans l’au-delà.
I often saw her in the patterned garden
Tending tenderly small children,
Until their parents came to pick them up.
I was absorbed in her antics as children laughed.
Oh dear Marguerite, how exquisite she looked.
How children prayed their mothers came a little late.
But time played a useful trick on her,
As she once fell and bruised her knees.
Quickly I hurried and with my handkerchief
I cleaned her wound and stopped her bleeding.
I took her to a small quaint café and made her drink.
We became friends quickly and as time passed
I helped her caring for the small urchins
That played a while for they loved her much.
Till one day I proposed and wedded were we.
We chose a cottage that was surrounded
With meadows and trees. And every fine day
That is the path I chose, covered with soft
blades of grass hedged with variegated
late hibiscus, and moonlight filtering through
drooping willow trees. Winding path tilts
up hill, towards a wooden pergola that
glimmers in the darkness, her paradise.
All for my lovely Marguerite.
Jasmine stint scented plants
appreciate it textured colored perennial
Plants botanic garden hyacinth
Beautiful colored bright abundant fragrant
Sweeten smells and delight blue flower soft pink pedals
Magnolia evergreen, wisteria pergola purple wall
Fragrant faint to overpowering
Tubela freesia shades white orange
Red blue yellow lavender balloons traces
Sweet sweet scent outdoor Oasis
Slow princess
Dark Knight honeysuckles yellow variety flowers
Late summer followed by bright red berries
Scarlet Red light apricot pink double flower
Scented rose roses by many names yet arose a rose
Phlox several shades of pink
Aa lots of white Salmon purple red bi colors parts
Of a mixed border large swass for impact
On a pure White tile variety fragrant
Spring summer time lilac sturdy little shrub
Shades of white with pink purple drought blooms all season long
attracting pollinators with deep purple flowers
Awesome that have orange throats fragrant out
Of matter spicy host
Perennial Rossi dark green foldage
Lo! peony liken of a fuller rose bud pure
White blooms with grimson flex heirlooms
with gorgeous mimi mix of pink double blooms
A truest scented voice
Fragranted perfumed floral hosts~
3/6/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
That is the path I've chosen,
covered with soft blades of grass
hedged with variegated hostas,
and moonlight filtering
through hanging willow trees.
The winding path tilts slightly uphill,
towards a wooden pergola
that glimmers in the darkness,
a temple built in paradise
for my lovely Marguerite.
I have planned my life's purpose,
I know so clearly the urge to live,
my priceless gift from Cupid
cleansing the humdrum of this life.
The nightingale enlivens the silence,
full moon oozes limpid serenity,
the glow worms twinkle lovingly
like a myriad of faraway stars.
A lonely breeze caresses my face
but cannot quench the thirst
nor quell the boiling of my blood
nor the hunger I feel for her.
I gaze upon her lovely face
Chiaroscuro in the moonbeams
A painting mightier than any Madonna
that emanated from Fra Filippo Lippi
Or an intimate impression by Renoir.
Yet like these famous portraits of old
Our love forever will survive.