Standing brown barefoot
In the summer springlike rain
Feeling the coolness slide down my skin
Like a bird bath for my soul
Refreshing me inside and out
Each raindrop anoints
My every joint with hazel hope
Amber buttery thoughts melt
And I plant my seeds
All those cares will be
Carried away to life
The garden I plant
In the rain will thrive
The muddy hill will
bear my fruit and
The honeysuckle wind
Will carry my truth
Essence of my being
That I will love
Categories:
springlike, environment, poems, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Rain of gold dust, peculiar rush
Loudest thoughts have lost with just one hush
Gleaming streetlights, sea of people, busy lives
How can I not find the one from those lucky fives?
Even the mechanics of our lives can tell
How can an angel like you be saved from hell?
I might freeze your halo, break your wings
But I wouldn’t dare to for you gave me feelings
We got our differences I won’t bother
Yet looking at you is like looking at mirror
This twin flame burning between us
Has made our dark part turned to dust
Aren’t you delicate? I maybe the coldest stone
But I am that syndicate who will sit beside your throne
Circling chaos, wrecked towers, save the bell for me
Ring it as we carve our promise in a dark oak tree
February 14, 2022
“Springlike Future with You”
Categories:
springlike, angel, beautiful, faith, future,
Form: Rhyme
So pretty wrapped in thorns, my dearest rose.
A dish, adorable, a pitbull — small.
She fends off fiends with nettled hands propose.
All pluck, with red stripe lips, sparks Springlike drawl.
Afresh in scent and velvet soft array,
blue bruise of her ornamental chamber.
This Cleopatra tease does make men bay.
This wild wine rose no pet prince can tame her.
The cut came quick, the snip of sharpened glass.
The former blushing queen of humble green.
The bucolic roar spreads, the plucked red lass
surrendered to the vase — a dauntless teen.
Ever after lasts but an hourglass bit.
The sunset quick — the sand that sinks her wit.
8/1/2018
Mark Massey’s Not Just Any Rose Poetry Contest
Categories:
springlike, flower,
Form: Sonnet
FLOWER FOR HER HAIR
You lose your heart in Saint Germain
and fall in love too soon again
too quick and furious to know
where love comes from, where it may go
and then you walk together by the Seine.
Your differences are time gone by,
too many years, she knew they'd fly.
While you, unborn, could never know
Her need was what she couldn't show,
Until her lonliness had caught your eye.
You buy a flower for her hair
with tender hands you put it there
and brush her cheek with finger tips
it brings the smile onto her lips
you reach her for a while; you take the dare.
The springlike day goes much too fast
you love so much it can not last
the tiny shop. The hidden street
the cafe where you stop to eat
too soon become reminders of her past.
And Saint Germain has nothing new
to help you leave, as you must do;
all of her love, her memory
you’ll think about, as it should be,
Just as she'll always cry for you.
© ron wilson aka vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
Categories:
springlike, age, fate, lost love,
Form: Lyric
FLOWER FOR HER HAIR
You lose your heart in Saint Germain
and fall in love in Paris rain
too quick and furious to know
where love comes from, where it may go
and then you walk together by the Seine.
You buy a flower for her hair
with tender hands you put it there
and brush her cheek with finger tips
it brings the smile onto her lips
you'd touch her for a while if you would dare.
The springlike day goes much too fast
you love so much it can not last
the tiny shop the tiny street
the cafe where you stop to eat
too soon become reminders of the past.
And Saint Germain has this for you;
to help you leave, as you must do;
all of her love, her memory
you’ll think about, as it should be,
but never to reclaim this love so true.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa
Categories:
springlike, angst, art, black african
Form: Rhyme
Tonight I smell musical notes in the air
as I taste babies breathe springlike smiles
and I feel the voice of reason
as I listen to velvet dark chocolate
while I see myself clapping angels
hands in the azure clear skies
As I have greater faith now
in my God's reality for me
through him a cultivation of a keen
sixth sense leading to a higher self
Love now blind for humanity
as I am now a multi-sensory being
intuitive, mystic, and psychic
a higher level of reason achieved
to care more for the universal common good
and in turn life better for my womanhood
By Susan Mills
Categories:
springlike, faith
Form: I do not know?