Long Poinsettia Poems
Long Poinsettia Poems. Below are the most popular long Poinsettia by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Poinsettia poems by poem length and keyword.
I love to see you
and only you this time…
as you spread all over your leaf-liked petals
like the very bright numerous stars
you'd fallen down magically from the sky
your flaming red on top of green
so alluring-
I am so mesmerized
all lying down on verdant plains
and some are found at mountain sides
more are adorned at homes
and in all other lovely places around…
you’re so special and the prettiest flowers
welcoming the season of joy-
the Yuletide
March 14,2013 2.30pm
Note:
Poinsettia flowers are my most favorite flowers especially during Christmas time. I loved drawing/painting and taking photos of these flowers when I was still young.
Second Place
Contest: Free Verse
Judged: 3/18/2013
Sponsor: Greatest Poet Linda
kindness in the light of fallen snow
the lights of the county Christmas tree illuminates the night
i stand in front of it in my usually traditional awe
the difference this year is you are not here to make it what it once was
i know you are out there somewhere admiring another set of Christmas lights
i wonder what county....i wonder what city....
the wilted mistletoe still has traces of your spearmint lipstick on it
it is still placed on the last pillowcase that you slept on
kindness in the light of the fallen snow
the young bloom of the poinsettia offspring reminds me of the simplicity of your kisses
i daydream under the aging night's stars all lost in thoughts of you
last years presents are still under the new six foot tree that you bought our last Christmas together three years ago
there is only a rocking chair in the middle of the living room facing said tree like binoculars facing directly to the front doorknob
i am still hoping one day you sill indeed return....probable in vain....yet again....
Merry Christmas To You....Kindly....In The Light Of Fallen Snow....
Creeping creepy creepers, the crawling trellis
jutting out of everywhere
snaking through country and metropolis
twisting turning in floral bliss
but more like snakes that hiss
But in quietude feign death for self-defense!
Weeping willows with an unreal surreal sorrow
weeping tears of dew onto the silted furrow.
Perhaps weeping for bretheren felled
in deforestations and land clearings in
my imaginations of the call to preservation.
Against ethnic cleansing of greenery for selfish building
As per man's construction for mere recreation
Velvety-green tear- stained faces or rather foliage
When dew is stuck on them as nature's trinkets of pearls.
And over there touch-me-nots swaying coyly
like prim and proper maidens
in the fantastic floral gardens.
And what in the world is this case?
Imitation flowery in place of imitation jewellery?
Yeah, thats poinsettia in a vase
Leaves in the disguise of flowers
Its actual flowers relegated to backstage.
And ethereal fairy-slippers await their never coming wearers
and Indian pipes to be admired by Red Indian sightseers.
Oh and here's another spectacle- but sniper tactics this time
Yikes! Let the naive insect world beware!
Whilst the bloodthirsty killers lie in ambush
Those camouflaged jungle guerrillas
or should we say the venus fly-traps!
Or a more harmless one yet mimicking the scary
A snap-dragon flora, its mouth opening and snapping shut.
Then watch that mega-sized jumbo giant flora
The world's largest flower
No stems, no leaves, plant-eater plant, rafflesia.
Is it too much for the faint-hearted ha ha.
And wow now watch that incredible costume, oh my!
A flower masked as some pesky fly!
None other than the remarkable fly orchid.
And yet another, the silent music of the fiddlenecks
Fiddles as if for the light-weight fairies.
And lastly not forgetting ofcourse
the sky-blue unforgettable forget-me-nots
A memorable bouquet but themselves devoid of memory.
Ah nature lover poets if you wish to view
more of flora in a fancy dress masquerade
Go ahead and flip through the pages of
a botanical, floral
horticultural
pictorial journal.
And see for yourself the fantastic flora's charade
or else imagine them dressed as a floral renegade!
Oh, Winter it is time for you to put away your white coat,
and to roll up your tattered blanket once so beautiful;
time for me to put away my cozy comforter;
and my red toboggan still dwelling lonely on the porch.
The fireplace is cold and neglected now,
and the gingerbread cookies have been eaten except one;
my ice skates are of no use with no ice on which to skate,
and the Christmas poinsettia once lovely is looking real droopy.
I am ready Winter- to pack away all my winter clothes;
and have removed the winter wreath from my front door!
____________________________________
May 14, 2019
Poetry/Verse/Oh, Winter
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1144-124-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Objectifying A Season
sponsor, Sheri Fresonke Harper
Third Place
I sit here in front of my husband
Overlooking a small pond
Pine trees with pinecones on them
A bird flits from one head stone
to the next, staring at me
The speckled granite stone
stands tall engraved with a
Celtic cross
In the center
S Doyle Roper
CPO
US Navy
Vietnam
October 14, 1943
August 29, 2018
Husband Father
and Grandfather
I placed a red poinsettia in front of the stone
With a prayer and wishing he was here
The holidays are so hard without him.
“ Dad, I love you, I wish you were here with us. We miss you so much. The boys and grandchildren are the only thing that keeps me going. “
December 13, 2021
Not finished writing had to stop to go home
The best things that Christmas guarantees
Are the festive, digestive joys of cheese
No holiday platter is nearly complete
Without the familiar fumes ... of feet
Softening chunks of wafting wonder
Offered up aged for you to plunder
Those holey and rolly blocks to devour
So properly plump, and soddenly sour
There's no better bits for a yuletide slacker
Than great gobs of funk on a crispy cracker
And stuffing a sock or a Christmas Buddha
Is perfect diversion for a gram of Gouda
Or perhaps just a nip of Neufchâtel bliss
Bouncing its stink for a mistletoe kiss
What better addition to the bells of a sleigh
Than vino with bread, and a cheese in decay?
Or, the ideal pal for a proud poinsettia?
Why, a warmingly wonderful wee wedge of feta!
No matter what floats on the holiday breeze
It's ALWAYS out-funked by a good ... Christmas cheese!
Written and submitted on November 18, 2018
For the "Write A Poem About Cheese" Poetry Contest
Barry Stebbings, Judge & Sponsor
What would happen if you embraced the possibility that the God of the Bible really did create the world and really does care for you?
Allow me to be a child again
even if only in my mind
for only in your love's contain
did that first Christmas truly find
a child afresh to You consigned
Inside my heart I'll place each hope
like a fresh poinsettia in the snow
in that wintergarden of love's lope
each bauble will be hung with glow
right above Your sweet Halo
May I be privy to your birth
like Mary was that blessed day
Twas' only You she could unearth
inside that lowly stable's ray
You really saved the day
My Lord, My Lord, I am in awe
each time my heart re-calibrates
You are the light of Christmas law
the one that clears the world of hate
and opens wide the Trojan gates.
December 5, 2022
Sponsor Emile Pinet
Contest Name A Christmas Special |
My garden is an art of splendour,
I behold her with all my gaiety,
A garden of flowers and hope blossoming alike,
With all its beauty.
The buds splutter,
The mystic mystery unfolds with its glory,
Giving way to the symphony,
A harmony of colours and sounds so deep.
The soft petals dances to the melodious hues,
Spellbinding the onlookers,
A riot of colours it is!
Pink, purple, red, yellow, green, orange, scarlet and many more.
The butterflies waver through the unending haze,
The bees buzz adding to the tunes of melody,
The chirping birds twitter incessantly,
It's a confluence of colours and melodies so sweet,
The master conductor is the wind,
It directs every soul in the garden,
To break into the euphoria.
The wind chimes tingle with delight,
As if to thank me for their site,
Along the trails I hung them so dearly from the lamp post and trees.
Amidst all the extravaganza,
A happy me!
Hopping and tapping on the stepping stones,
Twisting and turning through the garden coves,
Here and there a nest erupts
among the shrubs and trees,
To signal a new dawn.
What more can I wish for?
As I wander and ponder
Through the poppies, pansies, poinsettia and phloxes,
Salvias, sweet william, succulents and shrubs,
The over powering Gulmohar and magnolia,
Atop the jasmines and the bougainvilleas.
They are all there in my garden,
There is colour, there is sound, there is life, there is hope,
My piece of haven I call it,
A colourful heaven in all its right,
And a peaceful eternity in all its might.
July 29th, 2020
2nd position
Contest: Petal, Buds, Blossoms, Bees, Birds, Butterflies poetry contest
Sponsor: Silent One
"Our hearts grow tender with childhood memories and love of kindred, and we are better throughout the year for having, in spirit, become a child again at Christmas." quote by Laura Ingalls Wilder
In the living room at Granny’s house,
amid cinnamon, hot cocoa, and twinkly lights~
pecans and raisins in her fruitcake, brandy doused.
Fireplace embers glow with light and warmth,
its fire crackling with laughter and love.
‘Tis a time for family, friends, and tidings of good cheer
quietly reflecting upon three wise men and north star above.
Granddad sips slowly from his favorite mug
mulled cider secretly spiked with darkened rum.
We children snuggle next to him beneath Mother’s poinsettia quilt
while eating gingerbread cookies leaving not a crumb.
A band of merry carolers make their way down cobblestone path,
their mittened hands gently tap on the front door.
We fling open the door and join them, joyously singing
Oh Come Let Us Adore…
As Christmas comes and goes,
cherished memories linger, though the years quickly flow.
Yesterday begets today, begets tomorrow it seems,
Christmas memories age like a fine Bordeaux.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
the fabric remembers her hands~
floured fingerprints on crimson petals,
the knot at her waist pulled tight
as she turned from the oven’s glow.
heat curls the edges,
fraying the green leaves
where gravy once splattered~
a stain, a story.
Mother wore it like armor~
against time,
against hunger,
against the silence
of an empty kitchen.
Now it hangs,
a ghost of cinnamon and cloves,
still holding the shape
of her laughter.