Dad is out back,
speaking to his swedes and turnips.
He only grows tubers, root vegetables,
that I sullenly refuse to eat.
There is one flower
a Passionflower, 'Passiflora Incarnate'
that clings to the garden fence.
I could not see any passion in it,
until mum showed me
the creamy crucifix within
the blue and white corona.
Dad belly laughs
as mum, showing me,
piously makes the sign of the cross.
Dad is digging up a real beauty,
that's what he called it,
a 'real beauty',
a soil crusted cannonball,
the monstrous offspring
of a cabbage and a turnip.
He was not a religious man,
but he did believe fervently,
in those strange passions
some have
for cabbage soup
and mashed turnip.
Categories:
passiflora, poetry,
Form: Free verse
I love this resort I write to my family who sent me here.
Cuetzalan is a marvelous town, I have no worries, sipping a beer.
Actually, I am lonely because loving couples are in the air.
My family sent me on vacation because they care.
Cuetzalan is as magical a town as Mexico ever had.
I truly am grateful for the vacation, paid for by my dad.
But everywhere I look couples are hand in hand and glad.
I want to be a two-some, so this makes me rather sad.
A butterfly with an eye lands on an exotic passiflora next to me.
I am here, she seems to be saying; next arrives a weird bee.
The butterfly continues to follow me daily from here to the sea.
I am not lonely any more, I feel cherished, and am filled with glee.
Categories:
passiflora, travel, vacation,
Form: Rhyme
In hues of sepia she maintains
her web of life, Mother Nature;
from smallest seed to greatest
creature her umbilical sustains.
The fate of all life resides
in her consciousness and flow;
like a machine each part depends
on the other parts smooth glide.
Pollinators nurture flora,
food is recycled and regenerates;
feeding others of her children,
from trees to abundant Passiflora.
Through our big blue marbled macrocosm
she weaves her web of life;
from Terra-firma are many birthed
abundant arising microcosms.
With light and pigmentation's work
amazing color floods her realm;
from greens, golds, reds and browns
she paints such serene patchwork.
Wondrous miracles she has birthed
within her spirits sylvan seas;
a universal soul, our Mother,
captured by the poets in verse.
The finest artist of her kind,
with unlimited imagination;
her womb is quite a fertile one,
life’s threads are fragilely intertwined.
6-27-2021
ALL YOURS (Jun 27) Poetry Contest
Brian Strand
Categories:
passiflora, earth, environment, life, nature,
Form: Free verse
Before the hot torch of the heavens fades,
And short shadows lengthen into long shades,
Quick set all your seeds lest the fast Fall frost,
Will bite at your bones ‘til your fruits are tossed.
"Arbitrum Divisa" form
Taken from "Passiflora"
Submitted 11/18/19
Contest: "Fashion" sponsored by Julia Ward
Categories:
passiflora, age, lust,
Form: Rhyme
Oh Passiflora, flower of passion,
at the pinnacle of flower fashion.
Near-naked garbed in deep purple-pink plush
displays that make my begonias blush.
Your Summer’s secret garden is burning,
leaving your lusting young lovers yearning.
Stirring the manhood of the bumblebees,
and sirening hummingbirds from the trees.
Before the hot torch of the heavens fades,
and short shadows lengthen into long shades,
quick set all your seeds lest the fast Fall frost,
will bite at your bones ‘til your fruits are tossed.
Categories:
passiflora, flower, lust, seasons,
Form: Alliteration
This passion inflames two hearts that interweave,
they give off the strong perfume
of entwined roses clinging to strawberry shrubs;
distant is the memory of snows!
No other sky above this meadow glitters more,
how clear is the way to enthralling Paradise!
And if we bind together, this vernal promise
must endure as the earth itself, evermore!
Tales of Kings and Queens in love were lost to time and spoil;
enduring is this new tale in which caresses and kisses burn;
this place in time is as eternal as gray ashes in a small urn,
never scattered to wind or sea, buried in soil deeper than coil.
The Passiflora flower bears a resemblance to the pink daisy,
its aura of solar beads is the crown given for the rarest beauty;
and such are the glowing glances of woman filled with worth,
a last surrender to my fervent kisses that induce blissful death!
Entered in Broken Wings contest,
" Entwined "
Written on 2/11/2016
Categories:
passiflora, art, desire, first love,
Form: Rhyme
A green smoke was rising
to ferret out
the elusive pain
without body.
I went in search of
fidgety words
to patch up the conflicts
of flesh.
Bold as Passiflora,
Crucifixion was complete.
Today a gift of obeyance
will arrive.
It was a fake.
The eyes on the hump.
Camel has to cross
a steep desert.
Satish Verma
Categories:
passiflora, art
Form: I do not know?