Long Wildflower Poems

Long Wildflower Poems. Below are the most popular long Wildflower by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wildflower poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Raindrops

As the sky weeps 
in periwinkle petals of 
multicolored roses,
rinsed in lemons, and lavender,
the poet within me 
releases a bougainvillea 
bouquet of unfiltered gratitude, 
swaying to the celestial duet
orchestrated by 
the angel of raindrops,
adorned in braided 
wildflower crowns and
windswept wishes,
echoing dulcet melodies 
rendered in whimsical accents.

I ponder, if tears had a tune,
would it be the 
sound of drizzling dewdrops?
Would you then feel
the pain I carry,
veiled in smoky silence? 
Or would I forever be
the silhouette cloaked
in fogs of charcoal confusion,
too dark to be deciphered
by the fragmented eyes 
that eulogize 
all that sparkles and glows?

But when stained sunflowers
swirl beneath starless spheres,
scattering seeds of sorrow
to cultivate a garland of grief, 
puddled with poignant poems,
I remain throned,
as the goddess of black rain,
riddled with cosmic rituals,
sprinkling kaleidoscopic dust
upon forsaken fields,
while listening to the 
drifting leaflets in crisp air,
pleading for the demise 
of my unfaltering faith,
oblivious to the truth
that I fear not 
mists of melancholy.
I surf through surging seas,
unafraid of twirling torrents 
and blazing tides, 
piercingly striking 
shimmering sapphires 
floating in deafening despair.
There in the abyss of obscurities,
I’m nestled within restlessness,
in rooted resilience,
like a perplexed paradox
weaving crippled odes to 
the sun that longs to rise and sail,
splashing hues of cinnamon clemency.

Tonight, I’m counting crooning comets,
amidst quivering hailstones,
dancing in cataclysmic rhythm above,
to find my home within
an island of daphne dreams 
and singing seashells. 
For I hear the flaming flowers  
in their solitary stillness
serenade rain rhapsodies,
to awaken the petrichor 
soul of heavy horizons,
wrapped in stringed 
milky-quartz beads,
bursting forth blooming tomorrows,
illuminated by chamomile water,
concocted from charismatic spring falls… 

  Yet I think of us, engrossed 
in umbrella moments,
 Cupid too envied this
 symphony of romance 
 where love conquered all, 
  and grief but a blurred memory,
in sunlit souvenirs of yesterday.


Premium Member The Look In Your Eye

When the sky is a 
   sequestered sanctuary,
and the clouds croon 
for sinking star-beams,
listen to the euphoric hymns of silence,
for seething storms throned 
beneath rainbow castles
shall never obscure the 
crystalline colors of compassion,
amidst thickened fangs 
of dwelling darkness,
constantly trying to 
     seize peacock pigments
within violet-blue seas
     of sequined sentiments…

O’ beloved white rose~
perfumed in vanilla love,
let not the wolf-spider gaze,
mirroring envy within black widow hearts,
  confuse your diamond vision.
It’s just another day,
  enveloped in a warm sakura sunrise, 
there the gales of greed 
   looming in ghostly flecks, 
question the redolence of rivulets 
   behind your veiled vigor.

There’s no reason to fear
  when hope flows and drifts
like comets flying as fluttering butterflies
across the butterscotch horizon.
Remember, when the sage sun 
seeps into foggy crevices,
and deserted dunes
   speak in ashen accents,
their choice of words do not define 
the rhythm of your seraphic symphony.
Your merlot wine spirit is 
the whimsical wand turning unspoken
  tales into wildflower wishes.
There’s no need for an alchemist
  nor a sorcerer to concoct 
spells that rearrange constellations,
as your voice swirls in magical mists.
You and I, are every last thing
we need to conquer the bewitching
     perimeters we truly deserve.

Tonight, when my lids rest upon the 
dreamscape of daffodils and dahlias,
   I see that look in your eye.
I ponder, is it me that you long for?
Am I the unfading ink 
   within your saccharine sonnets?
I yearn to be the one you talk 
about in sweet seclusion.
This trembling canvas longs 
for no other skin to caress the acrylic 
 edges of my aching soul,
and I do not need 
the wind and water
    beneath whistling willows
    to write my destiny 
             in green and gold. 

We don’t need shades of shadows
following our intertwined silhouettes,
yet I let these metaphors 
merge with the heat of 
 your passionate presence,
as you and I break through 
the landscapes of grief
  with mutual attraction 
  like the mulberry rays 
         between the moon and earth..

Premium Member Love Musings

Written: February 08, 2024
             ________________________________________

Scarlet lips susurrous softly,
amid quiescence of dusk
bequeath beamily beguin beats 
within our sumptuous souls.
As grace echoes in crimson,
tears trickle toward titillating face 
vital words are shared in embrace, 
eliciting a warm scintilla that crams,
my heart to the brim,
our euphoria shall shut out the world
Such are your lovely virtues,
scarlet swing, swirl, and splendor,
mellifluous plea of my heartbeat.
Perhaps this flesh is gossamer,
wrapped around wintry bones,
until I hear the timbre of your voice.

We should meet at dusk,
as the sunshine is waning.
Daffodils light up my mane,
peppery sanguine sepals.
lusting lyrics lost like lines
Join me at dusk,
softly swinging 
across stardust lips 
of weary soul, singing in embers 
drawn down dunes deter
We should meet at dusk,
as our skin melts into night linen,
and we sit beneath the moonlight,
not requiring any words,
floating on seahorses, 
amid sapphire blue waves, 
and waltzing to sea-angel moans.  
We should meet at dusk,
to show me your soft hands,
wrap me in rose petals,
slow-burning summer opening.
We should meet at dusk,
with quartz amethysts
cravings for whispers of the future,
while never departing.
I shall wrap my ribs around yours,
sustained and pianissimo.
kindly apply your fingertips,
and tiptoe down my spine.
We should meet at dusk,
and, well, simply kiss me,
throw me a steamy embrace,
will fade into wildflower shades. 
we whisper as silence draws,
shy, pink, fizzy, sizzling apple spirits. 

I retain a nightly tally,
hours on given days
amidst the quiet murk of waiting
you embody my soul.
I almost lost faith
soaking in a velvety eclipse,
years flew by lacking your love,
which goes hollow until you smile.
I attempted to forget,
the curves of your body,
and sweat-formed salt puddles,
dewing on the warm golden dome,
those were milestone spots
of mutual delight.
Kisses resemble seaports.
such a visceral map to feel
that plagues my dreams.
Years of seclusion occurred,
erosion-prone, and sallow
a memory-bound state,
that yearns solely for,
your trustworthy love.
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member She

she was a beautiful and rare wildflower
peaceful and delicate 
but with vibrant untamed hues

she had a blaze
that no one could grasp or contain
so she confined her truth in solitude

she often felt lost and consumed
by the bleak shattered illusion 
of the world around her

it was too distressing a place
to settle her sensitive stem

it would smother her oxygen
and sift her energy into
depths of darkness

when her heart flooded
with loneliness and fear

she would lock her walls
fold her life
and paint her windows black

the beauty
anchored deep within her heart
would begin to fade

when she could no longer
find the path
back to her source of strength

she would sit in hush
waiting for any like one

to come

to water

no one ever did

when the pain became unbearable
she descended into madness

no longer questioning,
no longer reasoning

but content to
not be
until
there was no more

she sat in silent playgrounds
listening to children laughing

she enjoyed the indulgence
of a soft encounter with hope

she watched as the 
final crumpled leaf
hung from its tree
dangling alone

waiting for the last hale
of winters icy sigh

she was the swimmer who intently
dove into oceans of sand

her heart weighed heavy 
with exhaustion

burdened by the 
ceaseless meaningless,
struggle of life

to which she 
could not understand

she felt resigned
that life existed
and when over,

one could walk gently away
with no hesitation
or need to stay

but she was that rare wildflower

she had danced to the whims of the wind
and had weathered its torrential storms

the fire within her refused to relent
and she found resilience
to rise back into the light

each breath became a privilege
she returned as moments in gratitude

her journey became her solace
and it was there she found her truth

she was reminded that
emptiness in life floats into butter-colored warmth
because it needs to heal

sadness in life is the addiction
of re-living anything
that ever made one's heart soar

perfection in life bows in gratitude
to complete imperfection

and imperfection in life

is the essence
of hope
at birth
rising
Form: Verse

Poppy

Poppy
by Michael R. Burch

“It is lonely to be born.” – Dannie Abse, “The Second Coming”

It is lonely to be born
between the intimate ears of corn . . .
the sunlit, flooded, shellshocked rows.

The scarecrow flutters, listens, knows . . .
Pale butterflies in staggering flight
ascend the gauntlet winds and light
before the scything harvester.

The winsome buds of cornflowers
prepare themselves to be airborne,
and it is lonely to be shorn,
decapitate, of eager life
so early in love’s blinding maze
of silks and tassels, goldened days
when life’s renewed, gone underground.

Sad confidante of worm and mound,
how little stands to be regained
of what is left.
A tiny cleft
now marks your birth, your reddening
among the amber waves. O, sing!

Another waits to be reborn
among bent thistle, down and thorn.
A hoofprint’s cleft, a ram’s curved horn
curled inward, turned against the heart,
a spoor like infamy. Depart.

You came too late, the signs are clear:
whose world this is, now watches, near.
There is no opiate for the heart.

Originally published by Borderless Journal

***

Virginal
by Michael R. Burch

For an hour
every wildflower
beseeches her,
"To thy breast,
Elizabeth."

But she is mine;
her lips divine
and her breasts and hair
are mine alone.

Let the wildflowers moan.

***

If Love Were Infinite
by Michael R. Burch

If love were infinite, how I would pity
our lives, which through long years’ exactitude
might seem a pleasant blur—one interlude
without prequel or sequel—wanly pretty,
the gentlest flame the heart might bring to bear
to tepid hearts too sure of love to flare.

If love were infinite, why would I linger
caressing your fine hair, lost in the thought
each auburn strand must shrivel with this finger,
and so in thrall to time be gently brought
to final realization: love, amazing,
must leave us ash for all our fiery blazing.

If flesh’s heat once led me straight to you,
love’s arrow’s burning mark must pierce me through.

Keywords/Tags: birth, light, love, love hurts, flight, flying, life, heart


The Wildflower

It could have been you
       Hiding behind the post
           Stretching out your arms
               Your tiny face upturned 
                      To the early morning sun
                            Waving at me softly
                                 While swaying with the breeze
                                     It was only wishful thinking...
                                            But you look so much the same
                                                 that I walked a little closer
                                                      and nearly called your name
                                                         A scent so very subtle
                                                           Drifted through the air
                                                            Reminding me of the last time
                                                             I tied a ribbon in your hair

                                                           I picked the wildflower for you
                                                           But you’re much too far away
                                                          Shall wilt before you see it
                                                        This one I picked today
                                                      Against the velvet petals
                                                   You won’t get to press your face
                                                But together we will pick the one
                                            That grows up in its place
                                         I’ll save this in our special book
                                     Pressed between the pages
                                And hide it in our secret place
                            We’ve known about for ages
                       The next time that you come again....
                You’ll know right where to look!
Form: Lyric

Premium Member The Valley Aurora

Oh, in inspirations winter dreaming, I’ve dream't
Of a mystic valley of the Aurora Borealis,
A chambered realm of frozen colors,
Exploding within reflected light aglow,
In the hushed silence of ice and snow.
Here the pondering thoughts are set from beyond
Limitations of realities boundaries.
I'm a poet on a free fall dive, into the human imagination,
Behold my polarized world of enchantment.
Tender are the delicate wildflower petals,
Gleaming beneath the frozen sun, ice blossoms adornments,
Brilliantly shining in the fields of glitter, amongst
The snow dust's razzle-dazzle, beguiling the eyes of this poetic
Heart.
A Floral tapestry of permafrost, drips with a frothy moisture
Mist of sleet, creating a dappling effect upon the white
Dandelions and ivory daisies.
Taste the frozen honeysuckle upon your lips of warmth,
As the swarming frost bees pollinate this arctic garden,
Stinging with their chilling venom of flash freezing.
Palest crystallized roses, with thorny prongs sharpened edges,
Embraces the colds icy light, but reject the soft touch of
The mortal hands of loves devotion.
The haunting sounds of the Arctic owl echoes, against the
Walls of these alpine fiord's, as waterfalls of avalanches,
Crashes downwards, cascading into the deep valley basin below.
Swirling arctic foam blasts across this translucent terrain,
Shattering the magical splendor of stillness,
And splintering the tender reed unto nothingness,
Except for the spreading of germination's life giving 
Seeds of renewal.
Yet it leaves refineries thin fluffy powder, scattered for
The crystal humming birds, it is their sweet nectar’s
Refreshment to feast upon, as the swift wings sparkle,
In the dusk's afternoons setting sun last rays.
Welcome to my symphony of Tiffany, gems stones sacred
Meadow of frozen jewels, radiating luster's regalia
Of glitz and glamour, leaving behind a twinkling celestial display,
That comes from a rich imagination of a poetic heart.
© Cherl Dunn  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Mermaid Epitaphs

  As heartrose epitaphs
swathe earthly echoes
   with swelled up  w a v e s
  of spiritual sirens,
sea-fairies collide
  with honeysuckle footprints,
traced by mint-green manta rays
  along aquatic vessel of karma,
 pumping a nascent wilderness. 

In shawls of raven wind, 
  my silhouette is a blood moon, 
mirrored in mermaid's emerald eyes
   'neath dove grey midnight, 
flowering from skulls
   like love's last smoke, 
 as sciaphilic pulse evaporates ~
 and rusty rains of remorse remain.
 Grieving wanderlust
   waltzes in my
  metallic burgundy veins, 
 as butterfly oracles flip 
  and seraph's saga
  swirls in a torrential topaz turmoil, 
 inscribing truths midst
 ignited bohemian serenades. 

Winding moonlight
     around fingertips,
ivory threads of harp
 dance in fluid palms
    as liquid sun, floating in dew,
 melts upon titanium tentacles
   of wisteria archangels. 
When water hymns
     hibernate in silence
  and marine prayers
 s u r f in surging eagle blades,
    I pirouette as 
  an amethyst-opal whisper of wound
     in white-washed warrior skin,
for, every crimson corpse
  is a thumping cyclone,
  burning within sienna sand. 

 Ancient memoirs
cascade like
  tea-lime a s h drops,
upon shipwrecked lotus leaves
 where the third eye slumbers
   in talisman petals,
 and heartbeats bubble up
 as breaths of a
 windswept vagabond. 
So, in fears of ruby-fire r a i n,
  I'm forlorn and found,
 my soul chakra is sewn
   with stelliferous canopies,
and within dolphin lullabies,
  jeweled life gently sways. 

 Homing perfumed stars
   in tulip temple,
I'm Athena's spirit~
 a wildflower d a w n,
fading beneath
  samurai cloak of
      caramel flakes,
unfurled from pistachio sepals,
  my honey pink aura
cradles tiger-lily sunbeams 
      upon eyelashes,
as f a t e flutters...
       in timeless,
                watercolor wisps.

Premium Member Dream Garden

  "Above all I must have flowers, always and always."

                                                  Quote by _Claude Monet 

Another day of rain in my dream garden
But, the flowers still seem to be quite happy
Cupid's Dart, seems to be created by an artist's brush
Dazzles in watercolour lavender-blue
English Daisy, so dainty and adorable blooms sweetly
Foxgloves, pink and translucent pop up everywhere
Geranium I have planted in window boxes are bright and sublime
How can I not be happy too
Inside my heart and soul I am tranquility
Jacob's Ladder, in purple is already eight inches tall
Knockout beauty will be my stunning garden in time
Lily-of-the-Valley, richly perfumed grows under a Maple tree
Meadow Rue in pink sways gracefully in the wind
Nothing touches my heart more than mother's Peony transplants
Oriental Poppies will soon be vivid red here and there
Peonies will bloom and I will take some to the cemetery
Queen Anne's Lace, a wildflower I planted because I love it
Rose-Mallow Hibiscus, so dramatic will be bloom in late summer
Shasta Daisy is so joyful swaying, dancing in the breeze
Thyme, Oregano, Parsley and Rosemary have their place
Undaunted by the rain, my flowers simply grow
Violets, in purple were the first to peek from the earth in my garden
Wild Ginger,  with their heart shaped leaves makes good tea
X-ray eyes of this gardener will banish all weeds
Yarrow, I truly love you, with your fantastic blend of pastels
Zealous bees zigzag, zip, sip and zoom from flower to flower 

_____________________
May 19, 2022


Poetry/Abededarian/Dream Garden
Copyright Protected, ID 05-1456-448-19
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France

Written for the Standard contest, ABCEDARIAN
sponsor, Caren Krutsinger, Judged 06/04/2022

First Place

Mother Nature

MOTHER NATURE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ladyship, mother nature, in her prime,
observed where ever one looks in summer.
woodland glades, wildflower meadows in time
explode with life, sound, song, buzzing, colour!
meadow grasses, sway to her scented breath.
pollen, lifted as directed, in depth!
she reigns supreme, her nurturing, well kept!
survival of the fittest, her concept.
instilling instinct, natural reflex.
sight, sound, she ensures all mammals, adept.
no reasons yet, for her to vent her vex!

summer waning, nature changes palette.
harvest, her ruse for us to gather fruits,
to store for spring, preserve, circumvallate!
she shares amongst us, always contributes.
harvest festtivals, once pagan tributes,
oh, yes, some still believe, there's no disputes,
what ere is thought, no, she cannot be bought.
mother nature, no lessons can be taught.
she can always adapt, nowts to complex!
mother nature, at time looks to be fraught?
no reasons yet for her to vent her vex!

autumn her palette now of golden hues.
to her, her royal season, all pure gold!
on her vast estates, tree lined avenues.
where leaves fall, hiding secrets, yet untold.
not hers! the sou west wind was screaming out!
we the the seasons bowed, blew away doubt.
she called come hither all bar you winter
in my tender sides you are a splinter
ere there was a chance no romance, my ex
sad plans fail to have him, yes reinter
no reasons yet for her to vent her vex!

nature let winter have free run, fickle
land controlled by he who holds the sickle
unlike nature so not very clever.
forgive me seasons while I endeavor
to winter, winter in, yes, an annex
mother nature has dealt with that creature!
no reasons yet for her to vent her vex!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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