Long Poppies Poems
Long Poppies Poems. Below are the most popular long Poppies by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Poppies poems by poem length and keyword.
Spring Whimsy
winter packs his trunk
full of icy fleece and flakes ~
going south for spring
spring unpacks her bags
rolls out green hills with poppies ~
mustard carpets glens
vernal daylight sighs
sheds a winter overcoat ~
nature somersaults
sassy daffodils
troubadours of the season ~
in the midst of snow
snowdrops and tulips
mingle with playful raindrops ~
hummingbirds return
spring teases tree buds
tickles robins and the wrens ~
jokes in cheeky fun
loons and larks arrive
mistral songs fill flaxen fields ~
forests swing and sway
coy clouds gather in
flirt with flashing thunderbolts ~
birds watch from warm nests
rain tumbles through skies
plays hide and seek with thunder ~
feisty blue bells stand
waxing springtime moon
paints rose petals platinum ~
neon night aglow
impish morning sun
winks at fields of red clover ~
spring born of whimsy
3-30-22
Contest: A Brian Strand Premiere Choice
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Come and climb these
Broad bony branches and
Have tea on this tree
with me,
Let's talk our hearts out
Into the poems unsung.
Sleep silently singing in my sizzly eyes,
Sleep might snap with some pumpkin chai,
The sun is seeping in my sulky bones,
Soon the milky moon will mysteriously be alone,
Here, have some squishy scone
While the sun is setting sleekly,
I reckon we should have tea weekly.
Sandalwoody sultry summer,
Hyacinth, hibiscus and hummers,
Poppies, primroses and periwinkles,
The night in esoteric eyes twinkle,
Starling singing on a starless night,
No gloom, a moon , no light,
In this sordid slumber silence,
I can hear your eyes speak.
Let's tell each other
All our hearts hanker
To say,
Drink tea and recite
The poems and make
No delay,
I'll have chamomile tea,
I'm not Mrs. Bennet
But it'll calm my nerves,
You like your tea with herbs,
Spearmint, rosemary and thyme,
And make sure the poem rhymes.
Once a bronze blossom shone so sophisticatedly.
Flourishing in an oasis of tropical butterflies.
Its aura would emanate from enigmatic auroras.
Its roots nourished from the scents of petrichor.
Admirers would gather to gaze at such grandeur,
oblivious of poppies among common roses,
so the jealous sun in its narcissistic loneliness,
blazed with hell like rays, creating a drought.
In the inhuman illusion of synthetic flowers,
its petals withered like rustic wicker wreaths.
I stood helpless, as the wind left it exposed,
as lifeless buds began swirling in the air.
Only evergreen textures remain timeless.
An empty garden has no worth to birds or bees.
In the silence between seasons, so much is lost,
yet unique anomalies always leave memories behind.
House for house wall for wall and crumb for broken crumb
We fight like Stalingrad with nothing left to salvage
For honour glory power and some ‘god’ or other
Ypres Gallipoli Aleppo Damascus and ruin’s rubbles blights plain sight
Can we not fight for loving kindness and devout compassion’s grace
An eye for an eye until there is no needle left and the haystack
Towers like a smouldering inferno over sanity and common sense
Dogma for dogma ideology for broken dreams in tatters
Mother of all Wars and Nations on the grounds of greed and hatred
Lost children lie in crippled parents’ vanished arms and hearts and souls
Broken bones and shattered forlorn essence splintering humanity
. . . Ashes strewn on the altar of self-righteousness
. . . Splattered brains and crumbling crumbs
. . . Poppies rest easy on bone meal and rotting flesh
29th May 2019
In every conversation, like a murmur of my wandering soul,
I utter your name, like an incantation that binds me to the past.
In every prayer, your name rises,
A golden thread piercing the darkened sky.
My name intertwines with yours,
Like two comets meeting on secret orbits,
This is the dream I carry in my heart.
In a world immersed in shadows of memories,
You are the pale light guiding my steps,
A trembling flame I follow through the night.
I drifted through days like a leaf carried by cold winds,
Until I met your gaze, my love.
Encountering you revealed to me what it means to live,
And since then, you are the reason my soul breathes.
No joy, however vibrant,
Compares to the moments shared with you.
Your presence is like a sun rising over a field of poppies;
Without your warmth, I would wither in the shadow of loneliness.
I carry your sorrows as precious burdens,
And embrace your joys as my own.
Ask anything of me—my entire being belongs to you,
An unconditional gift, like a river flowing to an endless ocean.
Words are but pale shadows of my love,
But look into my eyes, and you'll see a universe
Born from my melancholic love for you.
From your strength to your weaknesses,
I love you in your entirety, without reservation.
This love will not be eroded by the passage of time,
But will grow like an oak under the infinite sky, forever.
'The band plays a sweet, soulful slow-dance song
I nuzzle her neck, breathing in her perfume scent.'
~ excerpt from Tim Ryerson's poem, The Dance
*
From a deep slumber, you drift away
Where the yellow moths and poppies sway
And the gentle sun pours crimson gold,
On meadows burnished since time of old...
It is here that jaybirds decked in fresh reds
Whistle dreamy tunes like morn's newly weds,
That lingering music stands aside
As sky's dance claims you for a long ride.
For the wind is pure, a calm it achieves
Displaying the glory of dusky leaves---
So majestic is this place where you tread
Like a thousand years have dawned and fled.
Waltz to the tune of one groom in love
Together now with your queen, above--
Tim, pour light over me... life's blest dove.
hOt SoUp
my poetry’s eclectic, electric
what stews in the mind
f i l l s t h e p a g e
i thumb threw my mind’s index
and choose a recipe card
a child swings through the air
grabbing oxygen to breathe
relating images dear to the heart
i grew up watching “dark shadows”
a mind filled with vampires, werewolfs,
witches, and victorian houses
often these ingredients are thrown
into the soup to spice up the story
to surprise the ears and eyes
main ingredients:
love for family
love for Jesus
i embrace the myriad forms, not afraid to try a new recipe
and if i can make it my own - stir it up with cayenne pepper
i’ll gladly sip it, taste it, savor it, hope you love it too
as i flip through the stack of cards, tree bark is a much
favored ingredient, and a dash of poppies, honeysuckle,
and coffee beans – yes, you heard me right. don’t judge
my recipe, you have yours.
1/21/2017
A few things you should know about the things I love
like the magic of watching asteroids above
the fact that I was born on Easter Day
the joy of buying a summertime bouquet
off-hours where I quietly sit at a café
talks about our Thousand Islands get-away
matinees at home or at the cinema
chunky fruit in a pitcher full of sangria
the caress of sunshine on my face
success when uncluttering my place
curls of waves unfurling on the sand
the perfect treasure found second hand
long walks along the riverbank
discussions had both deep and frank
bullseye shots that hit the mark
sugar kisses in the dark
a glass of wine to enhance dinner
games where there need not be a winner
coming first and acing all my tests
faeries who live deep in wild oak forests
biting into a big luscious peach
seaglass gathered on the beach
poppies and peonies growing in a garden
maple walnut ice cream begs your pardon
new york cheesecake that's real yummy
brownies that wind up in my tummy
incandescent hummingbirds in flight
nighttime bubblebaths by candlelight
the mystery of butterflies and dragonflies
perfume of lilacs assailing passerbys
glowing moon hanging low up in the sky
a delicious plateful that's exotic thai
a virtuoso playing the piano
the starry night painted by van gogh
hot french pressed coffee shared at dawn
the surge of nostalgia when I hear Elton John
carefree runs across wild meadows
telephone wires lined up with crows
aromas of basting turkey in the afternoon
hotdogs over campfire in the month of june
sunrise burning mist across the lake
wishes blowing candles off a birthday cake
strokes of vibrant greens in watercolour
luscious textiles that utterly feel like fur
christmas tree decorations hung
mango juice upon my tongue
a classy outfit that fits me like a glove
these are just a few of the very many things I love.
AP: 2nd place 2025
I wanted to give you the poppies field
and the stars, the blue vault,
but full of love, shy, and clumsy,
I gave you a rose in a jar instead.
I wanted to give you precious stones,
beautiful pearls,
but full of love, quiet, in the evening,
I gave you only warm kisses instead.
I wanted to give you the trees and the forest,
and wings to ascend to the wonderful sky,
but full of love when we walked wandering the streets,
I took your hand instead and never let it go.
I wanted to give you waters, springs,
hills and mountains and the rainbow,
but full of love - on a holy day,
I gave you my heart and the key of its lock.
They’re closing the downtown
Legion soon, taxes are too high,
what with gentrification and
only a few of the regulars are vets.
The younger associates, whose
parents or grandparents served,
can drive to the new place out
on the Watson Parkway.
But most of the old ones don’t drive
anymore and it’s a long bus ride.
Not that it matters, the associates
are just there for cheap beer and
don’t want to hear rambling stories
from senile old vets and anyway.
it’s now one hundred years since
the “war to end all wars” ended.
Christ, even Wicki notes that
the phrase “originally idealistic
is now used sardonically.”
Yet I’m glad to give my toonie
to the shivering cadets
outside the Farmer’s market
and double pin the plastic poppy
to my coat, hoping that it will
last till November Eleven.
To show for a brief while that
I remember.