Long Rosemary Poems
Long Rosemary Poems. Below are the most popular long Rosemary by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rosemary poems by poem length and keyword.
A Dream at its Voyage
A dream is swimming across the ocean of my sleep,
which I had weaved in my heart long ago.
It is faltering like a lonely wave,
that finds no shores.
It feels weary and cannot wend anymore...
Ho! It is drowning into
the unknown depths in the darkness.
No! It cannot perish in the halfway of its voyage.
Will there be sunrays to show the way in its desolation?
Will there be a bright dawn to begin again the new path?
It wanted to reach the shores of fame,
It wanted to blossom like a Wild Rosemary.
Hey, gain back your vigor and swim hard.
You were born not to submerge in the sufferings,
but to fly up in the sky with your endowed wings!
Let me 'neath fleecy clouds be. For spring is here.
God's creation all for me. For spring is here.
So many glorious gardens to admire,
Clematis attracts a bee. For spring is here.
Aubrietia produced in profusion,
Scented Daphne in valley. For spring is here.
Up in the mountains, veiled with alpine flora,
Wild primrose and rosemary. For spring is here.
Orioles and robins lured by blush cherries,
Magnolias so airy. For spring is here.
But there on the calm wide seas, racing dinghies
Ketches, sloops sail to the quay. For spring is here.
Oh man, what's that I hear, someone is sneezing?
Hay fever? Or allergy? For spring is here.
11 syllables per line.
11 September 2020
Ghazal Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
One afternoon
with Ginger and Basil
we met an old sage
whose voice was quite nasal
He told us our lives
were in need of some spice
which got me to thinking
of my favorite rice
So my two friends and I
spent the afternoon looking
for wonderful foods
to take home and start cooking
Rosemary stopped by
with that little nut, Meg
who loves telling jokes
and pulling your leg
And wouldn't you know?
Now what would I do?
Of food we had plenty
but our spices were few!
I asked what shelf
is all the saffron?
Loudly I cried
where has the tarragon?
But we used what we had
and the dinner was great
it went by so fast
and when it got late
My friends said goodnight
'twas a fun time, you know
and I suddenly thought
where did the thyme go?
I met angels on Ormand Beach. It was at the end of a long week and a large drink we’d called Screaming Jesus—vodka, grape soda, and stalks of rosemary. My husband and I were dug in near a sandcastle collapsing—our marriage spread as thin as sunscreen, when legions of seraphim appeared between the loamy, gray-brown waves. They murmured phrases neither of us understood—still don't. But we joke about how much DNA we left in that hotel room, the sun-blistered skins we shed, our discarded selves hoovered up by housekeeping, buried in an anonymous Florida landfill. Believe me, or don’t, I’ll never forget the sage of those graygolden halos—rusted-silver carabiners secured to spikes, driven into the hands of heaven.
creeping thyme
perennial landscape—
innocent as grass
She bragged about
Enjoying the embarrassment
Of being rich
She spoke of
Opportunities
That were available
To her thru those
Trends that complimented
What she already knew
And wasn't nervous
About doing
Her strengths were
The Reas n she bragged.
Her weaknesses came from
Those fears she kept hidden
Treasures the shame of
Wealth
Those who long for my
Attention are unattractive
And poor
There needs my ability to
Exploit?
Or might I provide service
To help those who need it.
Violino di Capra
The shoulders or
Hindleggs of
The goat shall
Be brined in
Wine, salts, sugars, honey
Cayenne, garlic, onion
Celery's and peppers
Rosemary, thyme, bay leaves
And the rest of citruses
Perched to cure
The Gods and Goddess
Of gossip minds you.
Blue Chix de Fluff"
The Catered Affair
Ground chicken meat about 4 cups
4 tablespoons of minced garlic
1/3 cup of minced onions
1/3 c of parsley flakes
1 teaspoon of black peper
1/2 t salt
1 T ground ginger
3 T onion powder
1 teaspoon of paprika
2 T dried rosemary
1 T of Thyme
1 c of mayo
1/2 c of panko bread crumbs
1 T hot sauce
mix well set aside
or using a cookie sheet wrap in plastic wrap and spread mixture evenlly and chill.
2 cups of uncooked smoked picnic ham
in a food processer mix until almost a paste
add 1 T cayenne pepper
1/3 c of heavy cream
5 T mayo
4 egg yolks
3 T cognac
3 T white grape juice
1 t of lemon
3 tablespoons of chopped white raisins
1/4 c of pickled olives
1/4 c of crumbled cooked bacon
1 c of sauteed mushrooms
3 T of minced garlic
1 cup of sauteed onions minced
mix to create a paste like
remove
whisk 4 egg whites stiff
fold into shoulder mix
on the chicken cookie sheet
in the center add 12 slices of swiss cheese
10 slices of sliced ham
in the middle add the fluffed up shoulder meat mixture
roll the into a log
sealing alsides
cut into 11/2 inch pieces
standard egg wash batter sequence.
fry golden brown and place on cookie sheet cook 14 to 20 minutes.
sprinkle top with crumbled bacon
and top with a hollandaise or Dijon, Crème sauce with fresh chopped chives
serve with either fries or mash potatoes and gravy.
She bragged about
Enjoying the embarrassment
Of being rich
She spoke of
Opportunities
That were available
To her thru those
Trends that complimented
What she already knew
And wasn't nervous
About doing
Her strengths were
The Reas n she bragged.
Her weaknesses came from
Those fears she kept hidden
Treasures the shame of
Wealth
Those who long for my
Attention are unattractive
And poor
There needs my ability to
Exploit?
Or might I provide service
To help those who need it.
Violino di Capra
The shoulders or
Hindleggs of
The hogs shall
Be brined in
Wine, salts, sugars, honey
Cayenne, garlic, onion
Celery's and peppers
Rosemary, thyme, bay leaves
And the rest of citruses
Perched to cure
The Gods and Goddess
Of gossip minds you.
" Be like a flower ... gentle, quiet and humble."
Quote _ Constance La France
My outlook gets transformed, lo, even at your little glance,
The tsunami within me gets a spiritual trance;
How you teach me to relish and savor my existence!
To be satisfied with; to connect with 'The Distance'...!
My angst is extinguished and my depression is depressed,
Untroubled! Unruffled! Like a little child, I am blessed!
Hope and optimism, like little sparrows, nestle-building,
Equilibrium, like silent stars, composure-gilding...!
My moods are melodious now; self-stress is under stress!
I can, my physical and psychic health, smoothly address!
From ceasing and ceaselessness and purity and passion,
I grow great into truth and ahimsa-filled compassion...!
Existence exposed; genuineness rejuvenated...
Infectious Energy and Freshness are regulated;
Opportunities and challenges; giving and taking,
Have become my constant conscience-consciousness-filled waking...!
Roses pink, white, yellow, orange, coral, and lavender,
Make my ego, before my humility, surrender;
Lemon balm, rosemary, daisy, snake plant, chrysanthemum,
Nothing brings smiles in me, better than you flowers, who're mum...!!!
24 May 2023
in 1122 I’ll fall to the ground for you
princess O princess of rosemary dew
you know it takes two
to tango fandango
Delia – heartbound; foundling born tired
forsaken vixen of dying light
a submarine ghost
a rose dale long closed
infidel lost little girl still admired
her royal affairs of turquoise red
flew into the newborn on a death bed
into the rabbit hole of paranoia
that’s chimerical, that’s flamboyant
how easy can dreams come to an end
it’s noontide of deathless urban decay
in a separation station of her heyday
Delia’s timorous, cold like iron
living the fate of Sharon Tate
feeling redundant, Delia is
a scarecrow of the nameless river
her russet hair like abbatoir cleaver
it’s been a folly,
infamy,
end of me
end of a saint, soon-to-be sinner
she was the girl that was ill
Delia of the lavender hill
travelling light year by light year
Delia of the metasphere
To be fair, it was the end
of a long day and a large drink
we called Screaming Jesus
nothing more than watered-down
vodka, grape soda, and a stalk of rosemary.
We were dug in near a sandcastle
at Ormand Beach. My skin shrieked
against the heat, but all I heard were the angel's
murmurs between the eternal slosh
of loamy, gray-brown waves.
Eyes salty with dehydrated sea,
considering an impending trial
separation, my anonymous angel said,
"The keys to the kingdom are reserved
for those with an appetite for interpretation."
My husband had no idea
what it meant. Even I still remain
areligious, despite the evidence—
the seraphim's calligraphy across hot sand,
carved into my skeleton.
We shed ten layers of epidermis that week,
Ohio bodies exposed to a new slant of sunlight.
Hotel housekeeping kindly hoovered up
the sheets of our leftover skins.
My husband still jokes about it,
volumes of our DNA collected,
discarded vacuum bags of vacationers
rotting at the bottom of a Florida landfill,
how I sat with an angel whose graygolden halo
was a rusted-silver carabiner secured to a spike
driven into the hands of heaven.
"Commit to the bit," were the last words
I heard before the horizon turned orange.
Everything since is a hidden scripture, bewitched
in red and yellow, fragrant as pestled ginger.
A path of revised perspective, sifting sand
through sunblistered fingertips until the memory
of it settles—
like a beachside angel on the fence, manufacturing
meaning in her downtime for desolate humans.