Long Snapdragons Poems
Long Snapdragons Poems. Below are the most popular long Snapdragons by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Snapdragons poems by poem length and keyword.
In honor of our new baby blooms, you are cordially invited to our annual tea. This year we are serving a plethora of herbals, for your sipping pleasure: Peppermint pep, Chamomile comfort, Rose repose, are among them.
This year we are serving the local honey with lavender and lemon (optional); it will relax you to promote your
tea-time bliss.
We also have a poet for your entertainment, as one of the Poppies has penned, quite a bit of wit!
Cinnamon and ginger have graciously volunteered; to regale you with some spicy stories.
The Vanilla beans have baked some wondrous sugar cookies;
they’ll surely delight your palate.
We’ll be decorating with morning glory vines and aromatic, tea roses; It’s only appropriate.
Come one, come all and gather with us; for some flowery delights, herbal and tasty cups of tea.
RSVP to Snapdragons by March 1st.
Ajuga, will be a must, a blue beauty that blows in the wind.
Bellflowers, charming and faithful and lovely, of course I must have
Candy Tufts from gardens of long gone, enchanting. And mother's favourite,
Daylilies, in a rainbow of colors, Delphinium and Daffodils also, so dramatic.
Evening Primrose along the fence will create quite a stir, and on the porch
False Watercress spilling out of a container, and then old dependable,
Geraniums and Glory In The Snow, I love my dreamy dream of spring flowers.
Hyacinths, scented jewels of color sparkle in my garden, along with
Iris Reticulata, an early spring treasure, it will be a wonderful place.
Jacob's Ladder, with blue-purple blooms, mingle with Johnny-Jump-Ups.
Kalmia Latifolia, pure white blooms, related to the laurel family.
Lily-of-the Valley, so sweet and fragrant, how could I forget you and,
Meadow Rue, a lavender wave in the wind, and anther old dependable,
Nasturium, a gardeners dream and it is also edible. Oh my list is long!
Oriental Poppy, was there ever a more heavenly gift from God, except maybe
Pasque Flower, unfolding from beneath the snow, and those Pansies and Petunias!
Queen Anne's Lace, so pretty is her lacework, did you know ishe is a wild carrot?
Rosemary, with a scented pretty flower, like dew in the morning is a must, as is
Sage, that billowy haze of lavender, pushing away the rainbow Snapdragons.
Thrift, delightful vintage touch to my rock garden in the shade, sweet the tulips too.
Umbrella Magnolia growing in the garden corner, with creamy white blooms, and
Vinca Periwinkle with lovely blue flowers, friends to Violet and Viola.
Wall Flowers, who love the sun, drooping with snow cap jewels, oh over there
Xenia's blooming in marine colors, so unique. And here a childhood love,
Yellow Anemone, aka Buttercup, who does not love Buttercup?
Zinnia, friend of Sunflower, elegant and colorful, nods. Must this dream end!
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April 13, 2016
Poetry/Abecedarian/In My "Dreamy" Spring Garden
Copyright Protected, ID 16-777-564-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
I call my mind a palace the way people call storms “weather,”
Like a softer word might keep it from doing so much damage.
If I say palace,
I get chandeliers instead of bars,
vaulted ceilings instead of a sentence that lasts my whole life.
It’s cold here.
Not dramatically-not the kind of cold that makes one beg for rescue.
Just the kind that settles in and never leaves.
Visitors underestimate it.
They always do.
They step inside glowing, certain that warmth is contagious, and leave rubbing their arms like the air betrayed them.
I don’t chase those who leave.
I’ve learned that running only feeds the echo.
The floors remember every footstep, the walls replay every doubt, and the silence has a way of sounding like judgment if you listen too long.
I tell myself it’s not a prison, because prisons don’t bother with beauty.
They don’t polish marble or let light collect on staircases like it’s thinking about staying.
They don’t give you rooms you can get lost in without ever technically leaving.
Still, I know the truth of it— that there’s no exit sign that actually means escape.
That this is where I will live my whole life, learning which doors stick, which thoughts frost over by morning, and which halls are too dark to go through, lest I never come out.
——
There is a garden.
It’s not obvious. You wouldn’t stumble into it by accident.
You have to want quiet more than answers, have to stop trying to prove you’re survivable.
The air changes there— not warmer, just kinder, softer.
Snapdragons crowd the paths, petals stacked like careful defenses,
Bright enough to distract from whatever shape hides beneath.
Dahlia grows wrapped in on herself, leaf over leaf, as if tenderness is something you earn access to slowly.
No one really knows what those flowers look like unguarded, and no one demands to.
In the garden, I don’t have to translate myself.
I don’t apologize for the cold or promise it will pass.
I just exist the way protected things do— intact, unreachable, alive.
Maybe that’s why I stay.
Not because the palace is kind,
But because it learned how to make room for something soft.
Because even frozen places can grow things that know how to endure.
I don’t need to love it here.
I just need one place that doesn’t ask me to leave myself behind.
One garden that understands why so many petals might be necessary,
for Jim*
Equinox is past, yet the wind
blows cold. From a veranda swing
he watches pansies, daisies, snapdragons
color-up his garden; Smoky Mountains
so far distant he cannot see. He hears
the eastbound train echo warning. Rain
tomorrow.
*My late husband was born in the hills of North Carolina. Among his people was a belief that when the air was so calm and clear that the sound of the whistle of a train was amplified and echoed loudly, the sound was a harbinger of rain.
In 1970 Jim moved from North Carolina to SW Washington state. He lived there until his death in 2011, but once in a while he became homesick for his home in the Great Smoky Mountains.
Spring sweetly breathes life
to tender buds on trees,
and from earth’s fertile womb,
seedlings’ small heads emerge
peeking out from the soil.
Climbing upward
toward the sun that sustains them,
and nourished too by rain,
they finally reveal
their lovely blossomed faces
to the world.
Winter’s melancholy has fled
and has been replaced by
the cheerful appearance of
blooms that dance with the breeze
and flutter on bushes and ornamental trees.
I dance too for the joy of flowers
whose fragrance welcomes
darling hummingbirds and butterflies
into my garden.
Oh, joy for the beauty of whimsical snapdragons,
multi-colored tulips, romantic gardenias,
pretty peonies in pink, white and red,
the purple irises, scented primrose
and long yellow branches of forsythia.
Oh, for the enchanting joy of
perfumed sprigs of lilac
and my roses each day greeting me
with their every hue.
My muse reawakens as
my heart and soul swell
with gladness
in the spring.
March 8, 2022
For the Spring Showers Or Spring Flowers Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
March 25, 2022 for A Brian Strand 1096 Poetry Contest
mother taught me about gardens ...
all winter she would ponder ... and make plans
selecting flowers by texture and shape
in a tapestry of colors
like bright sun jewels
and on planting "day" I wore an aquamarine sundress ...
~ we needed hardy flowers
for our changeable climate
and mother taught me to use color artfully ~
but no matter what we did ... by mid summer
the garden was a wild mosaic tangle
of tangerine nasturtium and lemon marigold
along with lilac forget-me-nots
and a mix of lavender and crimson snapdragons
we had lost all control ...
~ oh, we had painted daisies in saffron
and watermelon pink
and trusting coneflowers in all hues ~
now, my garden is much smaller
yet I still have a vibrant array of flowers
a display of changing colors all summer long
thrusting, cascading, and tumbling
I have climbing wallflowers in chartreuse
every view is painted ... in hues
like watercolors saturated with sun
oh, I love the coral bells ... cascading from baskets
~ let there be color and there is ... like magic
... colorful flowers dance in the breeze
____________________
April 5, 2021
Poetry/Free Verse/let there be color
Copyright Protected, ID 04-1344-147-05
All rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest Changing Colors
sponsor, Emile Pinet, Judged 04/19/2021
First Place
Flowers speak
the Gladiola is never sad
says words with a smile.
Tulips are the pun
not one but...
sound it out, you'll see.
Daisies reveal secrets
she loves me,
she loves me not.
Buttercups
lay it on thick
compliment everyone.
Carnations rev their engines.
Express themsleves from land to land.
Freesias
my personal favorites
blow a fragrant line.
Sweet Peas,
are still babies
they're still learning.
Patience wait
as long as they need to
before they speak.
Snapdragons
can fly off the handle
but please forgive them
Orchids tend to fib
are they adults Or .....!
Bluebells sing
a soulful tune
and I love the blues.
Paper Whites appropriately
recite their written words.
Roses bloom
the most beautiful
of words.
But the best flowers of all
don't need to say a word.
With love you gift them
a bouquet of their faves
as they gently kiss your lips!
Sponsor: Anthony Slausen
Contest Name: Encounters with Flowers
You went in as the ungainly crawler.
Emerging as a fanciful sky dancer.
A powdered face and noble purple robes.
Scumbling down the path of God and rogues.
You led me to a patch of your favorite petals
Joyfully showing me every one of them.
Some of your kin flitted in for brief visits,
Giving their own tours of enthusiasm.
Now I see that it's time for you to leave
I thank you for sprinkling a bit of magic.
Upon the cool breeze of my pale blue day.
For showing me those regal blossoms of Eden...
Snapdragons- Lavender and Queen Anne's Lace.
I thank you for sharing your sundial with me.
When you have so very little time left to be.
Asters litter beds in rainbow colours
Berries red and black slowly growing
Clover adding bright patches of green
Daisy's dotting the rolling lawns
Enchanting us with their beauty
Fox gloves waving their wands of trumpets
Gerbera brightly show the sun their faces
Hibiscus blown by gentle hot breezes sway
Irises joining in glinting and glimmering
Jasmine flowers spreading out profusely as
Kale fish swim in the pond flashing colour
Lilies floating gracefully give them shelter
Mums giving ground cover to the rolling banks with
Narcissus poking out between them while the
Orange hues of asters are a delightful background for
Peonies some tall most very short nestle beneath
Quince flowers, still their tight buds vie with
Roses stately and wafting perfume clouds around
Snapdragons closing their petals over insects
Tansy's rarely seen now a days, here do thrive and
Uniformly line the garden paths whilst timid
Violets of deep purple shyly peek out and the
White tulips dance amid the rest under hedges of
Xylosma giving height and deep shade for plants
Zinnia's with rings of colour exploding
04/24/2014 by Shadow Hamilton
contest What's in your garden placed 1st
Carrots, radishes, peas, and beans adorn my garden,
Nurturing each other, under the soil, smiling at the carrots.
The carrots themselves push up their green fluff, to play with the sun.
Ah, but at the other end of the garden are the pieces that delight me.
The marigolds, zinnias, snapdragons, and sweet petunias push up happily.
Glorifying Our Maker with their prettiness, understanding their role.
They will be brought inside with the healthy vegetables, to adorn the table.
They have the best job of all, and will be appreciated the most.
I rarely sit in the garden, I am too busy pulling the weeds,
Watering, and sending the garden faeries unconditional love.
I know they are nightly urging the vegetables to grow.
I wish I knew if it was time to uncover the potatoes.
My garden angels will come to me in a dream and tell me.
They always do. I depend on my angels to daily
Nurture me, and show me the truth of my well-loved garden.
I have never been disappointed, because I am one with her and them.
Written February 18, 2019
Contest: Gardens
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke