quilt in waves a rainbow ocean
etheric your ambrosia whiffs
whirling my waist
I wash dishes
rain swallowing chores, blood red hot
garden path waits your stoic tread
rockery longs for guitar thumbs
astral breath brushes rose petals
sun rises steady in fall sky ~
sorrow songs reaps benefit of time
your initials melded to mine in rhyme
astral skin blankets my chest
stormy waters
do not drown
your pauses
_____________________________
Placed 8th : Premier Contest
Sponsor : Brian Strand : May 26
is in the angle
and light
from which you see them.
The sun can worm its way through
to untold detail
on an inch
of bark.
Hope isn't far behind.
I saw my first flowering Dogwood tree
this afternoon
when I picked Ben up from golf practice.
I arrived early so I could relax
in my car,
and not be rushed by life.
There was a purple and two white
flowering trees
in front of my Toyota Corolla.
I thought God must have put them there
on purpose for me today, as well
as those who chose to look out
at all the spring presents
that might not last until
tomorrow.
All in today.
I saved a spider
from the Pre-K
classroom.
I set it free...
I served kids
cupcakes
the size of a double
fist, or two hearts.
I laid on my back
and listened to the bees,
sweetly buzzing soft
and collecting pollen
patiently.
I consider a cardinal
through the branches
above me.
I walked twenty feet
to another tree.
I analyzed the work
and movement
of another cardinal.
I held the slender trunk
to feel the heartbeat
for less than a minute.
Then I moved down
the grass.
I don't run near
the throughway
because it sounds
like the world
is screaming and bleeding.
It drowns out the birds.
Thrum of a heart,
Rush of the river,
Lapping of waves upon the shore,
Rustling of leaves.
Calls of nestlings,
Pitter-Patter of the rain,
Footsteps in the dead of night,
Yowls from the woods.
Draw me in deep,
Pull me close,
To whisper sweet nothings,
Lull me to sleep’s realm.
This earth’s song shivers through,
Every inch of her being,
The melody that runs beneath,
Purest spirit of music.
This is my headache
that I can't call a migraine
because it doesn't go away
and its not strong enough
for that convenient label.
This is knowing how
to collect pennies,
not quarters, for
Coin Star.
This is going to a grocery store
not to buy food.
This is hoping you can afford
a Bento Box of wine so tonight
the headache will go away
for a couple hours.
This is asking for money
gently, and mot making it seem
like you are begging.
This is putting dignity
behind your family,
and yourself.
This is writing poetry
because words are free,
sometimes.
This is having a close relationship
with Tupperware
and leftovers.
This is learning the art
of meditation
because I can't afford
yoga classes or the pants
the women wear
who go to them on Saturdays.
This is learning to cook
based on the cans
in your closet between
bowed down shelves
you are too tired to straighten.
I have learned what it is
to recognize the song
of a Mourning Dove
and the peepers in the spring.
That makes me smile
when I run in the evening
and time and no-money me
can slide down a colorless
rainbow
towards
borrowed serenity.
journey of lost past
dark worlds collide in silence
world forget me not
questions upon questions asked
bloody rivers start of plagues
Let The Flowers Grow Again Poetry Contest// Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
Contest Judged: 9/2/2025 4:03:00 AM
( 2nd Place )
Written: August 26, 2025
There are days the globe feels heavy,
when the garden does not answer back,
and every stem bows under the weight of rain.
I walk among the silence,
touching soil with trembling hands,
wondering if beauty remembers me
if blossoms still dream beneath the dark.
Yet even in the hushed, forgotten corners,
a pulse remains.
Hidden beneath the globe,
roots hold fast in quiet
keeping the echo
of a vanished sun.
I believe, when gentler winds arrive,
and grief begins to loosen its hold,
the earth will speak again.
Blooms will turn their faces upward,
not in rebellion.
So let them grow
not just for the season,
but for every heart that needs reminding-
love is never gone
it only waits to bloom.
The Sun and the Sea—
a blessing on this perfect day,
while seagulls sing their wild, untamed song.
There’s something here, in this Mediterranean way,
a peace that settles—deep, and pure, and strong.
We breathe it in,
this life beyond compare,
somewhere between the places we have known.
It teaches us
how small the world,
when seeds of wonder’s sown.
And in this ease,
a thought begins to bloom:
perhaps the gypsies were right—
to move
and drift,
escaping every room,
to never let a single place hold tight.
Maybe we can do it to.
I love the way your tears
Meander through the secret seams
Etched by time upon my face.
I love the way your sundry eyes
Light up
When my world turns dark.
I treasure your novel designs,
Masterfully brushed against a sun-kissed sky.
I relish in the cool, tender cradle
Of heaven’s clouds upon the earth,
Where I rest in an angel’s quiet embrace.
I love your steadfast stability,
Your unwavering consistency,
And the dazzling diversity
That breathes life anew.
I reverence your constancy amid ceaseless change.
Your love -
Inscribed in the fabric of time -
Visible to the world each day,
Yet discernible only in the silent
Whispers of its most sacred moments.
in the light of moon and sun, roaring boldly, our faith has won - our love He will never shun ~ by poet
walking by the creek, who murmurs in her steady pace
reflections of the joy, laughter stirring the stars in space
feels just like a song, promising the sweetness of grace
delicious moments in heartbeats, blessings to embrace
warmed by the sunlight’s glimmers, coloring gentle dawn
so life seeks to reveal the beauty and wonder before it’s gone
breathless praise comes on wings as they fly on and on
revealing the secrets of God’s blessings – to angels we are drawn
will life soon learn this story that once encouraged our song?
Before modernity
Growth was only for living creatures
With limited features
But these days
Even things can blossom
With the magic of packaging
Trees with start of spring
Objects with getting packed
And I with being with you
We can all flourish
As simple as that
Of burning sight, we grow the flora,
From dancing light of my aurora.
A stunted garden, met with showers,
Brought to bloom, bouquet of flowers.
In casting passion, bright the sky,
Of green and blue we share an eye.
The way of stars and trees alike,
Through boreal we join and hike.
OF ANOTHER DAY'S DAWNING
Like sunshine of day,
again I have a dawning;
labors of love waiting:-
Beneath the Baobab,
Two hearts beat the drums of love,
Eyes sparkle with warmth.
Out alone at last
Seven, and rapt in lush green
Seeds of verse were sown
Yellow butterflies, hued blooms
On our new street of fireflies
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.