I can see crimson love stains
On my periwinkle veins,
Who is it that kissed me red?
Waiting till I slowly bled...
amour in hues of amber
This Autumn of September
Golden face and glowing heart
In me, he's passion's pure art
Unimagined devotion
Causing caustic commotion
'tis love that has brought us close
He's mine, I'm the one he chose
Entwined to one another
We shall grow old together.
04.09.2026
I remember Cupid’s scent when December stars sailed,
above vast seas of scars rippling with past mistakes,
awaiting the euphonious moon to croon and tune melodies veiled.
But will the skies in blues be the muse, casting dews of jasmine bright?
For when shadows rise, darkness looms and blooms in lotus-filled lakes,
erasing the old memories of ink, imbued with rose gold light.
Maybe the waning essence of sage flavors savors the colors of amorous art,
where twilight twirls and swirls to silent confessions that time breaks,
oblivious to the periwinkle rhyme placed from your soul to my lilac-laced heart.
I planted sweet peas in my garden.
Then I watched them grow.
I planted sweet peas in my garden.
Now pretty blossoms show.
Won't you join me in my garden?
I'll plant periwinkle bliss.
Won't you join me in my garden?
Then you can plant a kiss.
I love you. I love you. I do. I do.
I love you. I love you. I do.
Every room
in the old house
is painted
deep periwinkle blue
because it was
the color
of dusk
in late June
when lightning bugs
filled the air
that moment when
everything changed.
open for the sun
periwinkle parasols ~
the chicory blink
08/23/2020
pionus parrot
feathers unfolding in mist...
tropical flower
7/12/2019
haiku - hue Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Kim Rodrigues
Periwinkle
Growing in my garden in the Texas heat
blooms of periwinkles so petite
lavender and pink and white
ever smiling bright
in array
luscious
grand display
showing graciously
bowing ostentatiously
to the summer breezes blowing soft
greeted by the puffy clouds that drift aloft
July 3, 2019
In italian “winkle” is like a verb
Imperative exhorting then to win
Exalting thus the strength of the nice herb.
If in winter looks like it's dry within
You see it back with its sky blue flowers
And quite sudden resurrected has been.
So soft the blue-gray periwinkle light
soft as a baby’s breath it enters through the sheers
the blue-gray comforter of rain’s delight
periwinkle mirth, periwinkle myrtle
light which laps the shore of night
gently rousing the retired dreamers
rousing with the cheek of infantile day
with the hopes that slumber lost will simply stay
the cheek so rouge and warm displays
of infantile needs is born
the suckling light of
day.
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