Long Sunflowers Poems
Long Sunflowers Poems. Below are the most popular long Sunflowers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sunflowers poems by poem length and keyword.
I know belamour means lover;
but a flower too is defined.
Webster puts it undercover -
a flower, who knows what kind?
Gertrude Stein penned famous words we've heard,
"A rose is a rose is a rose."
Smelling a rose, our minds are stirred,
but a belamour? no nose knows.
Meet the artist - George Dunlop Leslie.
His painting called Sun and Moon Flowers
has caught my attention expressly,
for I have not heard of moon flowers.
On closer examination
I found only sunflowers full burst.
Reading George’s explanation
has not quenched my mind of its thirst.
He explained contradistinction,
moonflowers have a paler bloom.
With florist’s flair for composition
so George arranged the girls in the room.
Sun or moon flowers? my mind's still mud;
but go back to that "belamour".
Belamour’s an unopened bud,
that's what Webster meant, now I'm sure.
http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/belamour
http://www.gardenofpraise.com/artprint26.htm
I'm a lost soul in a midst of desert,
Waiting for the rain to quench my thirst.
No scent of sunflowers greet the dawn.
Nothing was left but a body filled with thorns.
Languescent, I feel the sun rays on my skin.
Keeping me warm in my lonely days.
Giving me hope when storm breaks me in.
Lifting my spirit when clouds turned to grey.
I'm a prodigal woman,
I carried life inside my shelf.
Looking for someone to adore me.
A heart that beats for me until eternity.
And now, I found my way back home.
Looking myself in front of the mirror,
Wearing a stunning purple gown.
Watching every faces passed by.
In the corner I saw a familiar face,
I longed to shed for his warm embrace.
I went to him and hold his hand,
I kissed his lips and tears have fallen,
In a glass-made bed I owned.
"She turned to the sunlight and shook her yellow
head, and whispered to her neighbor, Winter is dead. "
Quote _A.A. Milne
Waiting for the Aspens to put on their emerald gowns,
oh, I have been busy preparing my garden space;
so ready to say farewell to all the faded browns,
ready to plant seeds and to Spring totally embrace !
My sweet window boxes are full of earth just waiting,
hanging baskets are dangling in anticipation;
waiting to create my Spring garden is frustrating,
but, soon I will be the envy- for with my creation !
I will have herbs and Sunflowers and Nasturtium in one box,
and boxes with nectar wildflowers for butters' and bees;
I will have purple, yellow and pink blooms and Phlox
and baskets will be cascading jewels in the breeze !
______________________
April 26, 2022
Poetry/Rhyme/Getting Ready For Spring
Copyright Protected, ID 04-1451-105-26
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Spring Rhyme 8-12 Lines
sponsor, Tania Kitchin, Judged 05/14/2022
First Place
Spring, flabbergast me with your scented flowers:
show me the gracious lilies and flaboyant tulips
as they spent their time brightening lovers's eyes;
yes, open up your garden where the red sun dips,
and the voluptuous lovers hug and passionately kiss...
rising in me a desire that takes me back to youthful days!
Down the rusty path, flanked by pines and fir trees,
the blue-jay parched on the lowest branch, is quite and waits;
at exactly twelve o' clock he starts warbling as a siren wails...
we have become friends, and he inspires me to write melodies,
but without a pencil and music sheet I must retain those notes into this active brain,
until I get home and write them down while he shelters himself from he misty rain.
Spring, flabbergast me with your scented flowers:
show me the stately sunflowers and the wild roses
growing taller than any plant seen in the wind-swept wilderness
as the mariachis play their song to console a marchioness sitting in a breezy corner;
these aren't musicians found in a parade, they are peasants with colorful costumes...
soon someone will say," Alla manana, Segnora. " as the calm returns on the shore.
4/16/2012
Gentle breeze is as calm and placid as his wife is a disaster.
She will be here around four, he warns the woods and the beasts
Ants, beetles, and mushroom lovers begin hiding in ditches around two.
Kansans their entire lives they understand what is about to happen.
Why does she behave this way? Oak asks Gentle Breeze
Unsure but not wanting to be disloyal, Gentle Breeze nods gently.
Mama Fox herds kits into long meadow where they will burrow in grass.
Catfish and bass dive down to the deepest depths of the pond.
She is coming, and she if fierce. All gets quiet about two thirty.
This is the time that you have to watch out for, daffodil warns dandelion.
Flowers and weeds close, lying as close to the ground as possible.
Tornado enters wearing a train whistle that disturbs Gentle Breeze
The devastation she leaves behind is unbelievably– sheds overturned.
Barns without roofs, houses without porches; she is in full swing.
Gentle Breeze watches his wife, never understanding her wrath.
His cows chew their cud, as concerned as the sunflowers but no more.
In the midst of great turmoil and strife,
There is a force manifestly to be heard…seen….touched
A voice—ever so soft… yet loud enough to break mountains at their base
It can make a grown man cry—can distort the finest face
Lead the mother eagle back to its nest…
Run its hands against a tumultuous sea to rest…
Shedding tears of empathy when the woman,
With child, is seen- alone…sore. . . distressed
With mind enduring beyond mortal endurance
With arms stretching across the universe of opportunities and darkness
With eyes blossoming like those crazy sunflowers reaching to the sky…
Suddenly… you will feel its yellow fires
It is the very storm that knocks us down
To the depths of humility...patiently waiting for the perfect time to strike,
It comes like an earthquake and tremors the very soul into action...
It is the war of mercy that will devour to create and rejuvenate!
It tells the geese to fly south, whispering them in the right direction...
It is the soft growl of the lion that wakes its babe to safety...
Like music, it can soothe, or agitate,
Its rhythms changeable…forgivable…
When you take a wrong turn, a dissonant chord harsh as lightning will expel
Suspended in the air—colors more mysterious than hell
And when you love—oh how sweet love carries cherished lips cosmically….
A smile of the most precious melodies ring
New colors—see it, new colors shall spring
What this light truly means is to be revealed
Only for the precious few who listen and truly feel
Wrapped in the soft ribbons of love beyond all mortality
Beyond space and reality
Beyond the very tip of the mountain,
That never had to be touched to be brought to its knees…..
Not once did this force ever have to take the woman by the hand
And say with conviction… “everything will be okay….”
Because phenomenally… she would simply hear it in melody,
Inspired by the blazing sun of a newly dawned day-
Freshly caught tears of joy priding the lonely spider’s web
For Justin Bordner’s Divine Intervention Contest
Thank you, with love,
Laura
We passed French fields littered with steaming rolled hay
somewhere near the city of Verdun.
Here rain-weary sunflowers stood in ranks
and wouldn't even raise their faces to the sun.
Wilted green leaf shoulders on hunched old men,
all staring down at the mud on their toes;
or perhaps they were in mourning for their comrades
who’d fallen between the shabby rows.
Look up! Look up! The clouds are fleeing
and summer declares its victory.
Sunflowers should not be so sad.
Oh look up, little men, and smile for me.
These fields have known too much grief of old.
Lift up your faces and turn them gold.
The Eyes Have It
The nakedness in her eyes
bares her soul,
so tender
her country girl image,
dancing
in full bloom,
on better days,
her eyes,
like tanning sunflowers
on a farm,
lapping the sun,
earth and water.
Her eyes,
once,
lapping,
full of life
and vigor ...
like brown sunflowers
in a garden
manicured nicely
with blue jays and rabbits
near a spring,
singing and hopping,
her touches,
so tender
and deep
in her soul,
and in her eyes.
Life once gracing her.
Loved ones, especially.
Her eyes now befallen,
the last bridge in our time.
Me.
I remember sadly
the reflection in her eyes,
they swelled,
deeply,
lonely and vacant,
with tears,
matching mine.
It was the last road
we crossed.
It was my sin.
On the precipice
was a friendship
that sank.
Her eyes, deserving,
now closed to mine.
connie pachecho
7/13/17
Bright red geraniums
light up my balconies
Foxgloves exquisite in peach
Sunflowers smile at me all the while
Nasturtiums tiptoe in between
in all shades of orange and auburn and red
Whilst sweet smelling lavender
so beautifully blue
Bee’s breakfast on nectar
loving these too
Pink and red and yellow roses
their delicate perfume
wafts in the breeze
oh how I do love these
Each morning my spirit is lifted
such joys Mother Nature has gifted
bright vivid colors
light up my day
doth truly take my breath away
Written 24 June 2022
wishing you could see these colors too...
Contest A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE
Sponsor Brian Strand
9th PLACE
yarrow jamboree is five syllables
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Summer Jamboree
summer jubilee
carnival spun in saffron ~
long lemonade days
fields of sunflowers
glow like golden ocean waves ~
summer fiesta
black-eyed susans spread
into arid wilderness ~
highway troubadours
drops of sunlight in
meadows of dandelions ~
festivals of gold
butterscotch daisies
shout sunny salutations ~
topaz tapestries
yellow shooting stars
twilight columbine galas ~
lupine lemon drops
valley vistas glow
like chalices of sunshine ~
yarrow jamborees