Rock Garden Poems | Examples

POEM OF COLOR FLOWER SCENT

        


A pink scent
adorns the pale color
of the rock garden...

A colorful perfume
invades the forest of
my solitude...

Watercolor flowers,
adorn the landscape
of my adult life...

And so suddenly,
without saying or thinking
a kind
pink flower of my love
intimates,
opening into a beautiful bud...!

Wooden Bench

Wooden Bench

I set up acting and 
singing work for the 
wooden bench in 
the rock garden.
I’m his biggest 
fan. I get 100% of 
his earnings.

Prospecting for Gold

   Prospecting for gold 
     in a mosquito-infested ravine
   The junior explorers all mighty keen
     to prove their skeptics curmudgeony scolds

   And sure enough, they return all gap-toothed smiles
     pans overflowing with rare and precious gems 
   The kind prospectors turn up in sequestered mountain glens
     at the bottom of creeks that twist and turn for miles

  Old-timers gawk at the kids in wonder 
     their colored stones, all shapes and sizes
   containing abundant suspicious surprises  
     ~ Whose rock garden did these little ones plunder

Thanksgiving - Repost

How can so few have so much -
so many have so little?
I am rich beyond belief
yet am not considered rich.
I count my riches daily:
the warmth of heart and
home, the patchy grass,
faded paint, rock garden
(each stone rolled by
my hands).  The heart,
she waves to me each morning
as I leave for work,
greets me on returning.
Other hearts, now scattered,
not too far away yet never
near enough, have left their
emptiness to fill the rooms.
I sit, well clothed, warm, and
free.  I am ever grateful for
this freedom, freedom to be,
freedom to be me, to love,
to sing, to speak my mind,
to write with passion of
passion.  And yet I ache for
those who know not freedom,
nor peace, nor joy, nor a
day of Thanksgiving.  I cry for
children who will not be
fed, nor cared for - not because
there is lack of caring - but
because the caring lacks
the backbone of freedom,
the hand of compassion,
the hope - of Thanksgiving.

John G. Lawless
11/28/2013

Japan's Enka Music

AUDIO: 'Meoto Zanzai' sung by Sayuri Ishikawa.

Japan's Enka Music

Labyrinths tuned to where the Far East lies,
Spilled words occasion a symphonic breeze,
Unfurls white banners where sun paint red rise,
Labyrinths tuned to where the Far East lies,
Cherry blossoms canopies mesmerize,
Import harmony stretched from overseas,
Labyrinths tuned to where the Far East lies,
Spilled words occasion a symphonic breeze.

A stroll pauses, eyes soothe at rock garden,
Silk threads ornately weave life's tapestry,
Innate genteel graces, bows in pardon,
A stroll pauses, eyes soothe at rock garden,
Yon their themes stands banyan tree, roots harden,
Hear lyrics breathe verses to us with glee,
A stroll pauses, eyes soothe at rock garden,
Silk threads ornately weave life's tapestry.

2020 August 23

Syd Barrett

Syd has finally come home to nest,
somewhere on the dark side of the moon.
Lovingly tending to his space rock garden.
Sometimes he strums an ancient guitar
and whispers sweetly to pinkish stars.
Syd is alone but never lonely or lost
and his mind didn't snap like they say it did..
He just crawled out of a plastic poison pond
fed by a spring of plastic human beings.

He climbed up a ladder to the dark side of the moon
where there's no fabrication...or temptations of flesh.
Only a peaceful nothingness and a ladle of stars 
sprinkling shine on his space rock garden. 
Which he lovingly tends to
in the cool-blue dappled dark side of the moon.

Ode To a Spring Garden

~*~

Ode to a Spring Garden

Primrose will thrive in the shade of a tree,
bluebell will happily rise through the foliage of bleeding hearts;
and blooming tulips will grow between clumps of lilies in the sun,
in a garden of pleasure extravagant and fragrant.

Painted daisies and meadow rue will cheerfully sing in harmony,
in this quiet garden of peace and tranquility;
peonies and roses will choose to peak over a fence,
and purple phlox high and willowy will gather in a sunny corner.

Oh, those purple violets will pop up wherever they like,
creating color and havoc, magic and sweet serenity;
white shasta daisies will look everywhere,
creeping thyme will decorate a rock garden along with yarrow.

___________________________________
November 13, 2019 (edit from 3/17)


Poetry/Ode/Ode to a Spring Garden
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1198-067-02
All Rights Reserved.  Written under Pseudonym.


Submitted into FGI Blog Series 2 - Ode
Brian Strand

Podium Place 1

Rites of the Rising Sun

A man of ancient skills and tradition,
          Lived in a land of structured discipline,
A balanced life with moral conviction,
          Daily vigilance maintains his routine,
          Rain wet Cherry Blossom tree now glisten.

          Rakes of stones crafts a serene rock garden,
          Sounds of snips of a Bonsai Tree are done,
Grunts and shorten words as a sword swooshes,
          A Suzume bird now tweets when hearten
Saimin ate and Haiku read, finishes.



Date: 05/28/2019

Lustrous Alabaster White

Nacreous and opaline iridescence
Scattered through my gated garden
Million white tendered blossoms
Oozing intoxicating perfumed bursts
Most divine exotic jasmine
Beaded lily of the valley
Melodramatic calla lily
Trumpet playing lilium
Oversized amaryllis
Inspirited hyacinth
Lotuslike magnolia
Tall spiky foxgloves
Rock garden candytuft
Innocence of baby’s breath
Exalting nacre for my opalescent muse



AP: Honorable Mention 2020, Front Page Pick 2023

Posted on February 19, 2019

Rock Garden

The earth is dampened
Flowers are being planted
Rocks surround the plants
To protect all the flowers
losing the dirt around them

Songbird Columbine Oh My

SONGBIRD COLUMBINE, OH MY

Riveting in a garden retreat, a blast
of colorful wings, these petals that sing
on a perch of the sun with a flowery cast
— a chorus line of bluebirds late Spring.

Songbird Columbine, oh my what a tweet.
You embellish my rock garden with love.
I gaze upon your blossomed beak so sweet
Butterflied, you flitter, in Eden’s felicitous cove.

5/7/2018
Dandelions, Tiger Lilies, Bearberries Oh My Contest

Flower - Songbird Bluebird Columbine
Butterflied - because flowers resemble butterflies

Long Is Winter When Counting Days and Months

It's another frigid morning
that February brings in howling;
I shiver more than the stripped branches
when a fierce wind makes me think of avalanches
sliding down mountains and ravage villages,
and yet I await spring that promises renewed joys.

Being melancholic is longing
for the water gurgling and bubbling
among the shining rocks restoring life
all around and sparkling with dim sunshine;
will the fair-haired boy send his paper boat
down this foaming river? Will his darling wait
for it and pull it out of the water with a thrill...
making distance shorter for an anxious gill?   

There in the cottage with small opaque windows
above the rock garden of Sweet Alyssum and Amaryllis,  
the little sweetheart is overcome by profound loneliness;
long is winter when counting days and months,
and cuddling her kitty with cobalt eyes and soft, white fur
Karen sets her glace on the snow flowers that gleam...
if her tears made them grow, then she can dream
and follow that thought although absence seems to demur!    


Copyright ( c ) 2018 by Andrew Crisci

Rock Garden

ROCK GARDEN by James Edward Lee Sr.

You were my main stay;
You were my rock;
Extremely strong reliable faithful;
Hard foundations a cornerstone;
Nurturing tower of strength;
Faithful enduring yellow flower;
A small pebble in a sea of rocks;
This so God graciously created you for that...
I've been diminished and pardoned;
The Lord God loan you to me for the hour;
You're my flower and a rock this is your garden
Carmen's Rock garden...

July 24 2016

Thanksgiving

UNSUPPORTED CODE Thanksgiving


How can so few have so much -
so many have so little?
I am rich beyond belief
yet am not considered rich.
I count my riches daily:
the warmth of heart and
home, the patchy grass,
faded paint, rock garden
(each stone rolled by
my hands).  The heart,
she waves to me each morning
as I leave for work,
greets me on returning.
Other hearts, now scattered,
not too far away yet never
near enough, have left their
emptiness to fill the rooms.
I sit, well clothed, warm, and
free.  I am ever grateful for
this freedom, freedom to be,
freedom to be me, to love,
to sing, to speak my mind,
to write with passion of
passion.  And yet I ache for
those who know not freedom,
nor peace, nor joy, nor a
day of Thanksgiving.  I cry for
children who will not be
fed, nor cared for - not because
there is lack of caring - but
because the caring lacks
the backbone of freedom,
the hand of compassion,
the hope - of Thanksgiving.

John G. Lawless
11/28/2013 UNSUPPORTED CODE

Back Yard Oasis

Plants, Trees, Hills, and Grass

White shed black trim corner back

School and Park with kids

Path near fence where two dogs track

Green, Brown, Orange, Yellow, Red, Black

 

Five Pines fifty years

Rock garden and sidewalk near

Lilac Bushes two

Squirrels, Chipmunks, Birds fly through

Expanse of sky white and blue

 

Back yard oasis singing

Leaves like bells ringing

Barbeque Charcoals on fire 

Burgers, Brats, cooked to desire

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