the footprints you leave daily within my heart
give me joy like bees when windflowers start to sway
announcing the birth of yet another spring
beguiling and graceful like a peacock in bloom
Categories:
windflowers, appreciation, inspirational love, romantic,
Form: Blank verse
"*Oui, the winner, American Beauty,"
yet hail these 'Windflowers' Anemones,
flourished yon 'Down Under', 'Aussiszlanders,
indeed a showstopper for bystanders
of all but Europe, Turks, then South due East.
Breed buttercup, yet, some toxic; no feast,
bold capped to stop at bowls use; bowels feared,
not ground hugger, but mid-road, four feet cleared.
Eye catchers, nose losers; scent attracts foes,
begs Ruth from deer, rabbits ... cuts Atropos,
relevant, floral events, vast numbers,
eyes lacking, vainglory lapping ... wonders.
Attract bees, butterflies, and egotism,
flowers have that novel effect on schism.
Categories:
windflowers, allusion, analogy, appreciation, beautiful,
Form: Crown of Sonnets
unsated
she deprives
wild flowers
of their freedom...
the wind picks on her greed
----------------------------------
Categories:
windflowers, flower,
Form: Tanka
(Re Old Poems)
"You are a lovely singing bird outside my window. I open my window and you become a flower scent and a breeze that passes through my hair."
... Spun from the dark clouds from the night before
I sweep away those cobwebs in the light of dawn.
And I ask, 'When will it be spring again?'
As a displeased Winter snows o'er the hedges
And flake after flake they fall upon...
Wish I could unpin my heedless heart.
It has no wisdom to feign,
A daughter of the wind in gloam, as those windflowers
That sail in the breeze and they never be home.
A spirit withered and leafless, draped by the icy winds,
And dried up tears underneath the boughs,
Those eyes once shimmered with flaming tints of gold...
The hidden woodlands whispered to the south wind
Of a breath ephemeral that pierced the heart of stone.
As he skimmed o'er the roughen'd edges
Of autumnal lands never been trod upon,
A new life is born from the silken disarray,
And he brushed away the wrinkles unaware
That she was singing to him her swan song.
..
(8/1/2014)
..
Categories:
windflowers, flower, heart, love, sorrow,
Form: Verse
Spring.
As springtime shows a kinder face.
Birds nesting now with feathered grace,
Creating lifes unbroken chain,
Delighting those in our domain.
England awakens,songbirds sing..
Fresh is the dew, mornings will bring.
Gorgeous blossoms adorning trees.
Hives alive, swarming with bees.
Irises, those rainbow flowers,
Just glistens in, sunshine and showers.
Kissed by nature,spring will bestow,
Lakes so serene in twilights glow.
Mornings bring the joys of spring.
Nettles - beware they're apt to sting.
Our countryside now wearing green,
Pictures a perfect rural scene.
Quaint cottages stand in a row.
Rambling roses springs late late show.
Silver streams and babbling brooks,
Those wild flowered banks and shady nooks.
Utopian landscapes of desire
Verdant pastures to admire.
Windflowers enjoying woodland shade.
Xanthic daffodils cascade,
Yonder dancing with the breeze.
Zephyrs West winds,they gently tease.
2/ 23/ 2015.
Categories:
windflowers, spring, daffodils,
Form: Abecedarian
salt scented sand, green seaweed laced,
tumbled by surf and white gull paced,
windswept beach
pleasantly blessed long seaside day
when warm breezes waltz with bright, gay
windflowers
I drink pungent scents standing near
where turquoise wears sea foam veneer,
my windfall
Copyright, November 16, 2014
Faye Lanham Gibson
Categories:
windflowers, beauty, sea, wind,
Form: Rhyme
windflowers
stand up tall
upon the
hills of glory
some purple and red
some green and gold
so alive
this time
oh
what beauty
we possess
as
we sparkle
underneath
the
silent sun
and
it
brings
the
scent of
the
windflowers
one by one
Categories:
windflowers, imagery, imagination, philosophy,
Form: Free verse
This soul is locked forever wounded
In the torment of this particular day;
The question "why" has not been graced
With answers understandable.
And my tears,
Along with the questions
Have no voice...
No peace..
No choice...
So always, and sometimes, hope in wonderment
The spirit of my courage
And his duty
Is more or less of finer things...
But, after all the wishes,
I am just a Windflower
White and fragile,
And stubbornly alive
On a sharp rocked shore
Next to an undulating
Black marble monument...
Standing for the lost and the fallen.
Waiting in a tremble of despair
For my own Hero of certain reality,
Who understands Windflowers
And the need for
A sheltering embrace
In this particular life,
On this particular day
On a golden afternoon
Before a knock on the door
Locks my soul
Forever wounded....
On this particular day...
Categories:
windflowers, loss, love,
Form: Dramatic Monologue