Long Violets Poems
Long Violets Poems. Below are the most popular long Violets by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Violets poems by poem length and keyword.
The wind is readying himself for meadow and forest war
My trees are touching their roots
Robin nest is on the ground
Squirrels are scrambling
Wrens, sparrows and cardinals issue warning tweets and whistles
Urging us to take shelter before wind explodes with rage
Humans go to basements during tornadoes
Do birds fly off? Hide under moss or violets?
Frantic sounding tweets and whistles now
Tree branches are shaking the leaves faster than paper fans at church
A fast breeze parts my hair and wipes my cheek
The wind’s voice is persistent and clear
If you do not realize a tornado is heading to Kansas
You have never been inside a tornado
As if the sea calmed his tides to lie down in peace
As if the thunders began to sing sweet lullabies
As if the flared up volcano spouted jasmine and lilies
Serenity sits on his face when he sleeps.
In the stillness of the night, when the fierce lion gently hugs his love,
He sleeps like a king dozing in the tranquility of his queen's lap.
Like a feeble creeper that fondly cuddles the mighty banyan
He folds himself, as he sleeps like a baby in the mother's womb.
The nap-time charm on his face is a mug of morning coffee
The peace on his closed eyelids is the midnight's melody
The rhythm of his breath sets stage for a splendid salsa
Simple curve on his dreaming lips turns down the charm of Cinderella.
When he sleeps,
he glitters like a white pearl in the garland of black beads,
he shines like a daisy in the garden of violets,
his face resembles a magic wand cut and run from a magician's sleeve
he appears like a peace treaty that ends an incessant battle.
A good book in a nightstand
A mild balm on chapped lips
A peaceful hour of meditation
A plate full of delightful candies
A cosy bed in a cradle
A warm blanket on shivering skin - All have knocked my door,
Said that they can't wait anymore,
to witness on his face, the dance of pleasance.
I genially welcomed them to feel the heavens.
I let them all to see him along with me
Their hearts were filled with eternal glee.
damona and i
will tell no lie
when it comes to
what we think of you
the food that you fed us
the room that you used to bed us
is greatly appreciated
to you this poem is dedicated
damona and i
will tell no lie
when it comes to
what we think of you
at the wellness place we go
with purple violets....24 in a row
we hate on this date
that your heart chose not to cooperate
damona and i
will tell no lie
when it comes to
what we think of you
damona knows and is quiet
inside my head is many a riot
why such a generous soul
has to go from numerous to null
damona and i
will tell no lie
when it comes to
what we think of you
damona now whines softly
the last breath you take completely offs me
your heart could no longer take the severity
we thank you in tears of gold, platinum, and diamonds for your charity
damona and i
will tell no lie
your old young soul was the best
us just knowing you, we feel Truly Blessed
as damona and i retire for the night
in the morning we walk....your inspiration rejuvenating our plight
goodbye, Miss Farrah Rene, age said 24 violets times one
knowing that someone on the world still sincerely cares is indeed so much fun
The beauty in the beast
To strangers, I am broken glass,
sharp edges,
reflections of mistakes scattered in the
dirt.
They never pause to see the light
bending quietly inside the cracks.
They see the ink on my skin like warnings,
the nights I've lost to smoke and fire,
the weight of choices that stained my
name
a beast carved by mistakes, not by
chance.
Inside my heart blooms a secret garden,
roses of love with thorns of strength,
lilies of peace that calm the storm,
sunflowers turning always toward hope,
and violets, quiet but full of grace.
I am more than the shadows they whisper.
My soul holds flavors they'll never taste
like chocolate melting slow in the warmth,
a sweetness I've saved only for you.
I give the world my beast to survive,
but I give you the beauty they'll never see.
You are the one who softens my edges,
the one who knows the real me.
No one knows the weight I've carried,
the flaws carved deep into my name
but you've touched the ugliest parts of
me,
and still found something to love.
Your presence turns my scars to stories,
pain into something that breathes with
meaning.
Through your eyes, I am forgiven,
through your heart, I am reborn.
The world will never pause long enough
to see the light rising through my scars,
but you, my love, gather every fragment
and make me whole again.
I was the beast the streets created,
but with you I am the garden,
with you I am the sweetness,
with you I am finally seen.
So when the world remembers my
shadows,
I'll remember your light.
Because loving you is proof enough
that even a beast can be beautiful.
I wake to cloud drifting skies- quiet and cool,
except for the sound of raindrops;
and I see my garden ... jewel,
where beauty never stops;
in my paradise dreamy,
is the picture of serenity;
all the garden saturated steamy,
I step outside and in peace lose my identity;
jewel-like petunias and geraniums flourishing,
in magenta and purple and red- rich;
and other flowers nourishing,
my Buddha in his niche;
and green ferns drape,
hanging baskets of ivy cascade;
herbs tangled- fall like a leafy cape,
and delicate wind chimes dangle and serenade;
angel statues and painted birds- here and there
a forgotten tea set of cup and pot
and a vase of violets still fair
I must find thoughts ... I forgot
"So, I close my eyes in lotus while raindrops kiss my face"
______________________
August 01, 2021
Poetry/Imagism/Raindrops Kissing
Copyright Protected, ID 08-1376-967-01
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, Imagism
sponsor, Emile Pinet, Judged 09/01/2021
First Place
____________________
Submitted to the Standard contest, Your Favorite 2021 Poem
sponsor, Julia Ward, Judged 07/19/2022
First Place
Roses are Red
Violets are Blue
Cinderella has just lost her Jimmy Choo's
As poor Prince Charmings face is a picture
Smelling the elixir of pumpkin feet
Resonating from a discarded single glass slipper
Fairytales exclude most details
Like dating sites and bad blind dates
Or droopy red roses and blue violets
Sold from the back of an old pick up truck
Manned by a gypsy who has never sold flowers
Roses are Red
Violets are Blue
If Trumps president
Then none of this matter's
As old prince charming
Gave Cinderella shoe
To old mother hubbard
To hide in a cupboard
And this doesn't even make sense to me anymore
As im very very drunk
Sorry
I was born in the month of February many years ago,
it was in a winter storm but that is not my theme;
no, my theme is purple and all the hues - oh, oh,
the stone for February is the lavender Amethyst dream.
My flower is violets that pop up in Spring here and there,
and besides all this- I just love, love, love this shade;
I wear it everyday but refuse, refuse to put it in my hair,
have it in my curtains, walls- and my love will never fade.
_________________________
January 24, 2019
Poetry/Rhyme/Purple Passion
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1107-876-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
April showers may dampen Dallas Texas torrents glooming deluge on path way
Priceless zooming presence; shrouds blend violets and daisies blooming in May
Rain forecast an encumbered view; stubborn clouds cause distressing delay
Isn’t raining rain you know, it’s raining diamonds vrooming diamond souffle
Look expectantly skyward, your Ray Bans don, for the Solar Eclipse it's today!
She's beautiful in so many ways, i hear my heart subconsciouly saying " i do", a glimpse down the isle, to my conscious i node, wonders like first waves of the dawn sea, warms my soul, i feel melting elevations choking my desires. are goddes captured in men frame? my mind asks...
lend my hand, but this is far of a reality to touch, i mean even my eyes shivers, i dont know whether to bow nor salute, so much controversies my body cant contain. Gaze the north and swerve to the south, still i'm hypnotized in the centre of her seduction...
poets and poetess spoken of roses and violets, my tongue now recites of pertuniah and lavenders, floral blender of artistic reactions, i wonder what strings in her make she pulls, were i devulge so much of my wholesome, i fail to my mind my flow, i think her beauty tempere's with my composure
#Poetic_Ink
My eyes are growing weaker; words are blurred.
Twilight approaches, but for me it's never too soon.
With a smile, I close my eyes to life's harsh reality
and wait for my love, who arrives with the moon.
My vision clears, and in his hand is a blue velvet box.
A kiss to my cheek and he offers me my favorite flower,
fragrant blue violets and a beautiful engagement ring.
Each night he makes me feel like a princess in a tower.
I wish I could remember his name. Is it Dan, or Michael?
He is so handsome but I remember he left to fight a war.
He told me he'd send for me, but maybe he just forgot.
Was it in France or... somewhere... some place very far.
Bill? Maybe I have his name tucked in my box of secrets.
I wonder what happened and why didn't he send for me?
The only things inside the box are dried violets, a pretty ring,
and this old piece of paper, an old plane ticket dated 1943.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
December 17th 2015
Combination of Three Words Sponsor: Laura Loo