Long Water lily Poems
Long Water lily Poems. Below are the most popular long Water lily by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Water lily poems by poem length and keyword.
The aromatic fragrance, the colorful array :
The deep embedded feelings , bought to YOU today.
Coming from the Heart, like a giant; “ LOVE BOUQUET “
Eidelwiess, Gardenias ROSES, multi-hued :
Hawaiian Water-LILY, FOR making Wreath and LEI
One Chrysanthemum “YOU” Poetically lead the way
Young paisley Peony , WITH it I’m subdued
Baby’s Breath entwines _ LOVE _ Entwines HEART
Dethorned RED ROSES FROM a POETS’ form of ART
Universal: bed of For- get- ME- nots : with LOVE__ RHODA’S BOUQUET
5.
is it true love
or i do take it granted
that i’m in love
or i do love to think
that i’m loving
and there is
neither any welcome address
nor any opening song
in my love
my experience with heat of fire
and with burning pain
in the flames of water
is nothing less
6.
in course of burning
i look around
the chilly-plant in the tob
planted in my won-hand
producing green-chillies
oh-ho how sweet they are
it is no chilled-body
that has earned
my life or death
no remarkable mark
is endorsed
on the lotus-leaf
now easily some words
can be written
on you
i don’t know whether
those would be at all
some lines of a poem
7
someone falls in loves
someone makes love
love comes to some another
there is the far-off
whispering
at first she constructs me
then destroys rightly
i notice her
for the first time in six weeks
the love
that writes
in the footnote of the tennis-ball
a desperate struggle for existence
within our skull
there is the love
or the midnight of the orion
the little squirrel asked now
are you in your seventies
or eighties
those houses with the coating of
the sky the air the light-and-shade
provide me with the presentation of
a wig and
a set of artificial teeth
8.
the love
that touches the hand
in drizzling
the love
that gets lost in the brandishing
grasses
would they want to inform
that the flowers don’t have any skyscraper
in the layers of the flesh and blood
of the detergents
as if a whole human civilisation has been suffering
from suppressed pain
within it with the dry spell of
anger and cough
the time
had there been no feeding from the love
does the human civilisation stagger
9.
do you think those words
or it’s myself
whatever may you say now
i’ll travel within a great death
to die
rather after my demise i may tell
i’ve informed everyone …look
beneath the large evergreen flower tree
the game of light and shadow continues
beside those simple households
besides a high-head mobile-tower
what else would you like to be
is it a bath in the ganga-river is it a leaf
of the water-lily or it’s a king-cobra
tell me
i would now make love
with that idea from you
1
Sometimes the mind becomes a dragonfly,
brushing against the petals of a water lily,
while a heron stands on one leg, lost in meditation.
2
Over the fence of the jasmine garden,
night-flowering jasmine falls into my courtyard,
softly, drop by drop.
3
A butterfly has slipped into the weaver's room,
and suddenly
the whole place flashes with colour.
4
A city morning. Along the asphalt road,
here and there,
water snails have crawled out of the drains.
5
Beside the cremation ground
where my father and mother were laid to rest,
a periwinkle stands laden with flowers.
6
Upon the face
of a gravestone
rests a red dragonfly.
7
On the fallen trunk
of an uprooted tree,
new leaves gather the morning sun.
8
In the middle of the fields, a shrine to Manasa;
beside the Brahmin priest,
a motorcycle.
9
A Poush night. The northerly wind cuts through.
People in distress light a fire with scraps of wood,
trying to chase away the cold.
10
In the month of Chaitra,
drumstick pods hang from the branches,
like the sticks of a dhak.
on smooth hot rock I sat in reverie
after a hallucinogenic drink of
mushroom, poppies and truffle
imagination soared like bald eagle
throwing twin twigs with sigh
up I flew landing on a rainbow in
lucid dream ~
saw tinker bell fairies in pastel lace
with mauve daisy hats to face
sucking honeyed cream in wild glee
cherubs singing whimsy chorals
skipped to amethyst abode awaiting
dragonflies lighted a willow way
swans mated on water lily bay, say !
petal pond elves smiling away
secretly inside a Crystal Palace
of chanting High Priestesses pure
sat Lord-Lady of visualisations
with blue-green eyes, beard of silver
hay, not all could wander this way
he fed me mango manna ambrosia
gifted a garland of lotus snow white
a sapphire pen dripping indigo ink
to serpentine scribe enchanting
song on a rainbow in ruby
slink-slink !
It was the driest season in years
. The animals were running out of food.
They gathered around their withering watering hole.
Looking up at the night sky.
Hungrily wondering what the stars tasted like.
So, they concocted a plan to reach them.
The giraffe would be at the bottom
The ostrich would be next
the baboon then climbed up the yellow ladder neck
Next would be a mongoose- then a mouse
Then a dung beetle, and finally a fire ant.
Everything was going as planned until,
the giraffe lost control of his balancing act
they all scrambled into the watering hole
the crocs waiting patiently in toothy rows
That night the crocs dined at the water lily buffet
Within the reflection of stars and hoot owl serenade.
When letters wait to pounce on a blank page,
when thoughts crowd the mind like frothing scum in a pond
I keep wondering what poetry is to me and to many
Is it not the language of the heart
with no intervention of gray matter
the unlocking of closed vaults
stirring the embers of love, hurt or pain
or giving a free rein to fancy and flying
on magic carpets to lands forlorn
Sometimes it is a glide into a sea of tranquillity
an escape from the humdrum of the world
a flash of liberation from assaults of pain
a sedative to numb the turmoil
a sanctuary for a burdened heart
a window to look at the world through
a companion when one is inconsolably alone
a candle flame in a darkening world
a cloth line to hang the dirty laundry
a water lily blooming in the pool of tears
a shelter in homelessness
sometimes it is a ladder to climb up to Heavens
an angel on wings with tidings of hope
peace in a world braced for war
Poetry, if you are all these let us fall at your feet
bless us in our art, may we splurge in fancy
and conjure up worlds from words!
Our poems may not be light houses
but could be fireflies on a starless night!
Submitted for Brian Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest
July. 25. 2022
Submitted for Marathon Mile, No.14. Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
~ Placed First~
Poem on Poetry Muse Poetry Contest
Sponsor – Beta Agustin
I like to dream, to close my eyes and weave silent worlds,
where silence flows like a silk river under the moonlight,
but when I dream of love, a gentle story like the whisper of the wind,
my heart trembles like a water lily on a glassy lake.
Not that I have been betrayed by shadows or abandoned by wandering stars,
but I have watched love unravel like a spider web in the wind,
felt the lies hidden in smiles that dissolve like mist,
and I wonder, will I ever find someone to soothe my longing?
This question weighs like a river stone on the bed of my mind,
the answer always unclear, shrouded in the fog of doubt and fear,
perhaps the only certainty is that love may never come,
like a siren's song lost in the endless wide sea.
I have seen too much pain, broken hearts, shattered promises,
dreams of smoke scattered by the wind of indifference, people falling,
love has been a game of mirrors for others, a dangerous dance,
and I never knew how to dance among reflections.
So I hide my heart, like a forgotten treasure in a castle of mist,
because the truth is I am afraid, afraid of the shadow game,
where I will be the one who gets lost, the one who leaves without looking back,
already too broken to shatter under the weight of other lost dreams.
Dreaming of love would be like dreaming of a rainbow in the midst of a storm,
an illusion that unravels under the weight of merciless reality,
leaving only the echo of a melody I will never sing,
while my world of dreams slowly sinks into eternal silence.
I don't know
Who was it
But it is definite
I got the rainbow
At a forgotten point of time
It was placed
A flower vase finely laced
The vine leaves climb
Very often in the sleep
During the REM phase
Shows up the lace
The pink relief
I wake up naturally with
The water lily in my psych
The morning I so much like
The words of clarity and pith
The glistening bone china
Not just solo
The aroma of aloe
And the little myna
I am sure some angel
When I was a child
With her hands lotus mild
Had given the flowers of the apples
It may be my mother
Or someone else
All my ice melts
In the dream stir
In the complex world
The survival wouldn’t be possible
Without the seagull
From the gift impearled
The decorated vessel
Returns over and over
Forever the lover
A hundred boats sail
The sail of affection
the winds of love
The clouds of fluff
The rhododendrons
________________________
April 14, 2018
Anonymous Angels - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Yazmin Malik
I’ve been privileged ‘cause I’ve seen
The paintings of Monet.
One museum near my house
Has many on display.
The gardens of Monet provided
So much inspiration,
His palette came from Nature
More than his imagination.
I never knew how true that was
Until I paid a visit
To Monet’s garden, re-created,
Looking most exquisite.
The experts horticultural
Of New York’s main Botanical
Did such a bang-up job I’m sure
Their research was fanatical.
The water lily ponds are filled
With plants as flat as platters
And such purple-petaled flowers
Standing next to them just flatters.
There’s a copy of the famous bridge
From Monet’s house in France
And surrounding it, a swirl of blooms
The colors of romance.
A vacation to Giverny
Isn’t something I have planned,
But the New York imitation
Made me start to understand
That the genius of Monet was more
Than paintings that enchanted;
For the magic he created
Was inspired by what he planted.
(written after visiting The New York Botanical Garden’s exhibit)
Julius
The Caesar of
July
7th of month hot
CELSIUS 89%
And rising on
Higher temperatures
Heated temperature WOW!
July
Caesar's birth was quintilis 10th of the month
Originally
Dog days spray clams
Summer thirst birth
So July symbolic ruby stones white water Lily flower
Wishing for rain brain showers it's so hot and dry
It's another summer
July
Season for hot dogs month, daily brunch
Lemonade lunch, and breakfast of cold milk in a bowl of Captain Crunch™
July
Hot degree day, children play
Swimming pool and hydrant parties
Walks through the yard and park with sandals
After dark at night gatherings
Having ice cream on the porch
These are a few things we know about
July
as the sweat rolls down my eyes
Heated so hot are the days hot nights humid these Hot days of
JULY
7/3/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021