Short Bluebell Poems
Short Bluebell Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Bluebell by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Bluebell by length and keyword.
MEADOW GIRL
She is my bluebell meadow
Want to gather her up in armfuls
But not to spoil her delicate composition
Snowdrop,opens the ball
Crocus ,uncovers all
tall Daffodil's a thrill
as is Tulip,and April-
Primrose has her say
whilst Bluebell brings in May
Its o'er the hill rumour
A dazzling fact!
Spread out that clear before us.
Nothing abstract!
Each droplet's transmuting;
Soft-hued, soft-formed
For bluebell and buttercup.
By bee informed.
SCENT.
Its Bluebell month ;
My feet break twigs
long laying brittle in,
leafy brown beds !
In a wave of nostril scent, my
youth and childhood flood back,
sweeten my steps of years,
But! break me.
Blue Belle lies among the bluebells
Deep within the wood,
Every year she returns there,
Remembering a rhyme,
Contemplating a crime,
And every time she leaves
A new Belle walks away
from the bluebell wood.
Form:
From out of this hill's wide girth
Have shaped, and stately
Though old, and at rest
A grand dame's posture.
In folds of its lower slopes
Traced, spread out, before
With bluebell threaded
Gown's timeless allure.
I walked into the lonely wood,
And stared about the place I stood:
The beauty of the tree-lined glade,
With shafts of light that pierced the shade,
All filled me with a sense of awe -
The bluebell carpet best of all!
My mummy sees that I am smitten
With Bluebell my Siamese kitten
Bluebell loves to climb onto my lap
Purring loudly when she takes a nap
Mummy changes Bluebell’s litter tray
She'll teach me to do that one day!
The nervous young couple
turned wedding bell blues
into wedding bluebells
They escaped from the dance floor
and bought padded cells
that no yells or screams can penetrate
~ returned just in time for orange bluebell cake
Debris underfoot
Pathway winds through bluebell wood
Dappled sun lights way.
Fiddleheads unfurl
Moss grows green, trees stand tall
Stately Queen Anne's Lace.
Seasonal rotation
Timeless moments to enjoy
Celebrate nature.
Each morn’s breath was the scent of bluebell sprays,
Buttercups lay on the field all ablaze
when on those blankets of grass I’d laze
watching little lambs that came along to graze.
Bliss was that one spring time’s fleeting phase.
Fern and bluebell thrive
Dense trees forging green shelter
Footpaths meander.
Mystery at every turn
Gnarled roots display nature's art.
Forest canopy
Dappled sunlight and shadow
Rustling undergrowth
Spring is stirring steadily
Epiphany of nature.
Azalea plant, so baby new and blooming.
Bluebell flowers, quietly looming.
Carnations, the flowers of the dance.
Daffodils, in memory of the lost in the Holocaust.
Evening Primrose, so softly~~God embossed!
Panagiota Romios
5/3/2019
10:30am PST
On painted grass you scamp
where once the bluebell toll
lying low—
enriched in addended exaltation
Hushed tan mixed within yellow
shadows spot the sentinel
lonesome—
clouds pass too slow
Last morsel of magnitude
left to track inside
scamper off—
the sun is left behind
The trees so whisper
A whoosh simple tease
Their voice in the breeze
When the sun ray’s shine
Upon new born leaves.
No bluebell blues
Natures carpet
A symphony
Of colour tall.
Harmonized
Yellow heads
Spring to life.
Blackbird
In song.
Sings.
© Harry J Horsman 2021
Carolina blue
directs singing bluebell choir
bringing crescendo
orchestrated with gold leaves
grown in field with blueberries
golden rod stands firm
long stems waving in the wind
giving allegiance
to the Carolina blue
blueberries march in review
For Rick Parise's "Blue and Gold" contest
It’s Spring
Today I saw
A swallow fly
And spring was nigh,
An oaken branch
Puts forth its leaves
And winter grieves.
A bluebell shoot
Escapes the earth
Which gave it birth,
A black- faced lamb
With legs unfurled
Surveys the world.
White clouds parade
The heavens above
And I’m in love.
Although I do not know thee well
Won’t you grant a little wish for me?
I can offer this lovely moonstone shell
Faerie Goddess of the Hollow Dell
Come out from beneath that pretty bluebell,
Your cellophane wings I still can see…
Faerie Goddess of the Hollow Dell
Won’t you grant a little wish for me?
Paint me a day
with lemon squeezed yellow
Lime green meadows
beneath bluebell skies mellow
Brush in the shoots
of daffodils sunny blooms
delegating room
for a robins red belly plumes
Stroke in this scene
daisies white with sunny smiles
altering this trial
of winter’s cold, but for awhile
© Debra Squyres 2/3/14
I love bluebells,
I like their deep scent,
the way they jingle invitingly in the spring breeze,
their delicate blanket patchworked by trees,
brief but bold blues against verdant greens, sparkling with white anemones.
This year I look at them and all they are doing is reminding me of the colour of your eyes.
Who will hear the bluebells
ringing through the prairie?
Notes dispersed asunder,
stroked from blooming brushes,
painted loud as thunder.
Who will hear the bluebells
lost in dulcet rapture?
Symphonies of new birth,
swaying to the wind’s song;
chiming with blue blushed mirth.
23 Apr 2022
In the post I received some seeds
Now planted, I've done the deed
In a few weeks they did grow
Blimey they ain't very slow
They're now as tall as some reeds
They now have me a little concerned
Impressed in bloom they've now earned
But what's that sweet smell
It sure ain't no Bluebell
All previous is totally adjourned
Heaven’s orchestra.
The concert begins.
Symphony played.
Instrumental composition,
Springs violins sounds,
Trumpets call,
The earth rejoices.
Woodwind blows,
Tempo vibrating love.
Dawn chorus! Awakens,
Clashing cymbals,
Bluebells chime.
Beats with poetic rhythm.
The audience watch.
As crescendo of colour,
Blooms.
Wendy Jae
In springs frost
the dance begins again
Four four time
and fluttering wings
rapid beat
and anxious breath
Here in a cold grey mornings rage
a damp sun failed to rise
it rains in the drip of quietness
while I exhale on life's stage
All around is strewn with a sparkling light
unwelcome in their private realm
I find the road and walk back home
Form:
Be a daffodil amongst the dandelions
Be that bluebell in the wood
Bloom while others wither
Be a petal on a rose
Be a wish on a daisy
he loves me, he loves me not
Be a lily on a pond
Be the sweetest scent
shine like the tallest sunflower
Be Bette Midler’s the rose
Be Aphrodite tear create the red anemones
but most of all be fabulous
my dear and bloom