Succulents Poems | Examples

LIPS SUCCULENT-

I've tasted her lips 
We've had kissed 
Her saliva was sweet 
Sugary like licorice
Juicy plump plum, like bubble gum
Like a butterfly sucking nectar
Life Starts preserved
Front lips succulent 
Skin soft warm vibrant
Connect to sweet I received her sugar liquids 
From after her lips 
Within her heart's mouth 
Her lips mybeloved kiss
Lips succulents


9/2/25
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2025
"from LIFE DISCERN Anthology "

Cool Duskiness

Intense thirst in the sweltering desert,
yet, the emerald succulents still thrive;
for surviving, often takes extra effort.
Intense thirst in the sweltering desert;
Then cool moon arrives, as if pressured.
A beautiful, flowering cacti night, alive!
Intense thirst in the sweltering desert,
yet, the emerald succulents still thrive.

Garden of Chilies

madhouse of a ménage à trois —
the bawdy chamber of the blitz,
where three depraved darlings conspired in pagan rituals,
their lover's lament a discordant dirge amidst,
detritus of a bygone era,
a winter's eve of wreathed blossoms and withered dreams,
in this sterile hothouse of sentiments,
tender shoots of succulents twisted in grotesque abandon,
vault where love and decay convened in diseased romance,
till the one dawn ecstasy rose like cold air,
and winter's chill singed the hard prickles of their passion,
now vacant bloom, fossil of wounds,
trailing anguished bellflowers in mournful amusement.

Imperfect Perfection OCD -SHM

In pursuit of imperfect perfection,
she slowly turned every lucky star blind,
drowning in constant chores from obsession, 
unable to appease her stormy mind.

Promises ascend against perception, 
nothing halts fixed rituals from spinning,
as turmoils of time twirl through aggression, 
she sees the devilish mantra winning. 

What is left when breathing becomes a pain?
whilst malignant fears urge for reliance, 
spiky succulents perish faith in vain
frantically panicking in silence. 

day bleeds into repetitive debate—
Emotive wildfires stir despair and hate.



emotive wildfires
appease her stormy mind blind
stir despair and hate


breathing becomes a pain~in the pursuit of imperfect perfection

Whitestone Hoodoos

Whitestone Hoodoos

Near where I live,
just up the hill above the airport,
is a place of mystery and wonder,
a place wizards might once have dwelled,
or young warriors wandered in search of vision.
It’s a thicket of chalky hoodoos, sitting now
like a forest of plump petrified dwarfs made of meringue
sculpted by uncountable drops of rain
and whatever it is you might call a single unit of wind.
It’s enchanting for sure,
but largely ignored by the sensible folk.
It’s a place of unclimbable slippery slabs and
crumbly sliding slopes, of snakes with rattles
and succulents with thorns.
I’m sure to some eyes it’s just a barren hill,
and to others an inspiring view that’s always just out the window,
to some a marvelous result of random tectonic drifts
and to a few at least, a glimpse into the past 
when wizards and warriors met 
under the shadow of watchful dwarves 
and ate the bitter root.

(from my third book, SUN MADE FLESH AND FIBER, 2019)

A Bottled Garden

A bell-jar, crystalline, as transparent as an aquarium
Vibrant colors burnt umbers tints glass atop the kitchen table.
No elaborate gardening, just gentle misting in the terrarium
Muted pinks, earthy tones, texture soft as Siberian sable
My supercilious ways are overridden by fecund elegance. 
Gather around my friends and behold cherished succulents.                                                                             
These flowery cacti, such profuse perennial poetic ebullience,  
with an award worthy, floral southwestern desert essence.

Words

Like a warm embrace
That can fill a heart
Expanding with heat and love
Through every chamber
Yet without warning
It can take an about turn 
Causing pain and hurt
Words can wound 
And destroy
Ripping through precious moments
Bruising the inside
Of any body part
No wonder the Word says
There is life and death
Held in the power of the tongue
Requiring nothing less
Than than a daily guard
Be soft with your words
And speak with love and care
Leaving health rather than pain 
Fight the urge of strife
Offering respect 
Using relationship bricks 
That build rather than destroy
Leaving paths and bridges
In the suburbs of your life
Surrounded with spreading blossoms
And a garden filled with succulents of joy

Not Fond of Succulants

I had never been fond of succulents
They are usually a dull green,
Shaped in the same way with stiff petals 
Hens and chicks, we used to call them in Iowa
But today I saw some new ones.
They are purplish blue, a gorgeous color
I have changed my mind now

Dead Flowers

I take a garbage bag out to the deck
to gather the plants that have died.
I definitely don't have a green thumb
but at least you know I tried .

End of Summer and the heat has left 
dead twigs where flowers once shone.
A few hardy succulents still flourish
but everything else is now gone.

I apologize to each plant as it goes
into the garbage bag at my side.
Preparing the deck for the bareness of Fall
now that Summer's blossoms have died.

Clearing the deck at the end of the Summer
is the " letting go" of the season.
I can say it's because I'm cleaning for Fall
but we know my neglect is the reason.

August In the Meadow

An August sun shines on the meadow,
The goldenrod voicing their approval,
Waving their tall flags of flaxen yellow
Always profuse in bloom, never frugal,
Or shy in making themselves known
Among the late summer appearances
My lush verdant meadow is overgrown,
Paths having no unfettered clearances.

Dying vines now entangle the fencerow
Someone has sprayed a deadly herbicide
Not an unreasonable action, although,
Greatly affecting plants on the other side
Especially blooming milkweed and aster
Each provided nectar for the honeybee
Their roots spared, they return fast, ere
Hints of autumn tell the thrasher to flee.

August bears down hard on succulents
Browning for lack of a moisture to hoard.
How these strangers leapt the fence
And settled here strikes a curious chord.
Soon the vegetation will wilt and decay
Mother Nature says their time has come
Frost and bitter cold will have their say
I will yearn to walk on a clear spring day.

Written August 18, 2022

Singerisland

A lovely walk, a promenade leads the way
Burnt orange succulents stand like bushes serene
Crushed tepid deep, whitewash stirs up behind the scenes
Delightful blends of blue sky in-between
Entwined the seaweed branching out for a reach
Finely tuned trumpet sounds of swoosh on the beach
Glassy prisms beam through dark shades
Horizon blended ocean, sky, behind palisades
Intruders running 'round, sand in face
Jelly fish glow and charm with grace
Krutsinger Island, the sign reads
Lover’s bed and breakfast needs
Men and woman frolicking in the water
Naked babies cry out with laughter
Oceanic mammals creep by
Palm trees, flowing, occupy
Quietly recedes then tosses its sea
Rentals, beachcombers welcome 
Surfers ride their boards for fun
Tingling with a cooling breeze
Umbrella of waves, high tides come and go
Verdant colors make for radiant seascape
Whales bellowing blow show
Xanadu paradise plan your escape
Yachting, sailing, tagging and more
Zanzibar coastal getaway tours

Morning

Morning is a bright looking florescent
that unfold splashes of sultriness;
thrilling luminosity blewing off saturnine 
incessantly each day you awake
to greet your pallid-cream face.

It shoot in succulents embrace
flurrying optimism and illusory hope
as fiery as your desires
just enough for a blade
to slash through depression
with unassailable sense.

Whilst to others
it's a suicide ice 
& huge spectre
that will ruin
the gambles of their nights.

Moments of Mine

The lace of a Lily
and grace of a bee
the face of a flower 
and sun on the sea
Silhouette shadows
cloud painted skies
rivers of peace 
a bird as she flies 
colorful lichen
the succulents glow
still water mirrors
and Autumn’s first show
All of them captured
as moments in time
life’s truest treasure 
these moments of mine

Shadows of Succulents

Shadows of succulents surpass my seeing self
I lie on my back, admiring the seductive symmetry
How does nature manage to secrete similar signs
Is there a mystical, magical, movement in her roots?
I am at a loss to know; feeling like a voyeur,
peeking up into the sun-list sky, secretly wondering.
How does mother nature keep everything in sync?
She has a spiritual dance that sings soul into her succulents.
I am quietly contemplating this, sequestering myself in her shadows.
Spying a scene, I could not imagine from any other perspective.
I am silent, enjoying the shadows, and the symmetry.

I Can'T Remember My Love Though I Love-

I can't remember the last time
I kissed her close the eyes looking
I can reminisce last caress

Embracing caressing waste hips
And so am I involved love sick
In love so old cherish sweetness
As it be succulents flower

Sweet taste of her love ever so
Delicious hardened sweetened soul
Spirit flows captive dawning site

I now kiss her feet were walking
Now this closeness ever so sweet
Remember those times in the stars

Those times in the day sun risen
Open my love your eyes now smiles
Remember my love is all yours
I can't remember my love though




9/29/21
Written by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021

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