Tag Archives: poems

The Flower Poem by Krystal Volney

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flowerpoempicture1

Flower so bright,
Flower so new.
Why does the humming bother you?
Spending your time, wishing you knew.
Speak with honour.
Stand with dignity.

Suppose the humming stopped humming,
what say you?
Trees look down on you and say nothing.
Let your nectar stay sweet and let the sun delight in your fashion.
The wind blows alone but it feels your presence.
Its spirit feels the fluster of your petals.
Trying to grasp onto one. Just one.
Till it realizes that you stand firm.

flowerpoempicture2 flowerpoempicture3 flowerpoempicture4

Your leaves whisper sweet nothings,
proclaiming your fun and varying colour.
Pretty with no inside jollifies the leaves when falling down.
Don’t let whispers tell your time for they too want to see you fall.
The branches watch everything with intentions of mocking you.
They too want to see everything falling, leaves and all.
They see it fit to stand out in front of everything.
When the rain falls, they laugh to see you drained.
They dry faster more than anything.
But don’t wilt flower.
Flowers are meant to stay beautiful.

KrystalVolney_photoTalking about the poem: (The explanation & extended thought)
It refers metaphorically to individuals (both women and men) that are seen as the flower (with radiant petals and nectar).

The green leaves are filled with chlorophyll(that illustrate envy) and are split typically into two halves on the leaf & as well as the back and front of the leaf meaning two-​faced people with lines on them relating to compliments (envious persons).™ Green in this scenario demonstrates envy although the colour green in other cases symbolizes learning, growth and harmony.

“Pretty with no inside” can be elucidated through comprehending that each society has a different view of what is “pretty” poetically such as the Padaung Hill Tribe (women) or fitness (men) because there are multifarious species of flower on the earth. Without an inside representing nectar after the hummingbird has taken away the nectar or tried to sabotage the flower, the leaves become jollified as the seasons change.

The green leaves are jollified when the flower has no inside which displays the change from green to red & yellow colour in autumn at the time of leaf fall, emblematic for happiness, power and enlightenment.™ The branches deal with those who are rough in mentality & ruthless who are not blown away by beauty, (often attracting & entertaining friends such as snakes that coil and wrap around them). The trees express older and more ‘mature’ individuals who have been existent for centuries( stressing on the maturity and experience) or in decades (human life expectancy with experience at hand). The ‘humming’ refers to the sounds of the humming bird which is metaphorical IN POETRY & in this particular situation for people who are ‘haters’ connoting that the flower has both outward beauty & sweet nectar (sweet interior representative in the world for flair, talent, great personality or just in general something good about them based on perception); there will be envy expected, fuss and gossip as well in society because of its reputation. The drama!!! The humming bird goes by most flowers as most have nectar. The wind deals with the cold-​hearted and lonely people in the world that desire to feel the energy of the petals. The flower is often mocked by the branches because flowers are present everywhere around the planet. The leaves are always whispering and hoping that the flower will fall as well.

However, in the end it ought not fall apart. The sun is the star of the solar system delighting in the fashion of the flower and its poise in Spring.

(This was the first poem written in the year 2010).

© 2010 Krystal Volney

 

 

Mother’s Day Poem | Close Encounter by Angela Taplin

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angela taplinAngela Taplin, scribbler of fiction, poetry and (sometime) Deep Meaningful Reflections on Life. She’s a member of Chesham Writers and Scribblers and prefers lad docle vita to Ryvita any day.  She is a mother and a new, doting, grandmother.

 

Close Encounter by Angela Taplin

stork

‘Hi,’ she whispers soft

Her face alight with smile.

‘How are you doing?’

‘Look at you – aren’t you just perfect?’

Her eyes drink in every detail of him

From top to toe.

She leans in for a kiss,

Just brushing her lips across his skin.

He lets her,

His eyes fixed on her.

Accepting.

Calm.

footprints

Greedy, she gathers him to herself,

Breathing in the heady scent of him.

She’s waited so long for this moment.

The anticipation has been – almost –

Overwhelming.

‘I can’t believe you’re here.’

Kiss

‘I can’t believe you’re mine.’

Kiss

‘I’ll never let you go.’

Kiss

‘I love you.’

Kiss. Kiss.

‘Welcome to the world, my precious one.’

Angela Taplin March 2015

 

 

Ode To Azerbaijan by Jenny Falcon

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Firstly ‘Where? followed swiftly by ‘Why?’
Was how conversations began
When we told our family and friends
We were off to Azerbaijan.

‘Why not?’ we said, ‘it’s different
A World Heritage site indeed
So off we went, an intrepid four
To see what we could see.

Our destination was Baku
A five and a half hour flight
Our boutique hotel in the Old Town
Near all the notable sights.

Azerbaijan-Baku-steps-leading-away-from-Fou ... Square-to-statue-of-Nizami-tweaked-2-BG

The first day, locally we explored
Cobbled streets, lots of steps, lovely sun
A wide promenade by the Caspian Sea
Very old; stunning new; oh what fun.

Second day, off with our guide Yassim
Gloopy mud volcanoes to see
Followed by ancient petroglyphs
From many years B.C.

 

A different guide for our next trip
Fire Mountain and Fire Temple, too
Where flames have burned non-stop
Over 2,000 years, yes it’s true.

Another day walking round Baku
Up close to the Flame Towers so tall
Martyrs Alley, with graves of Azeris
Who when fighting the Russians did fall.

Baku’s a very clean city
Much money is there being spent
Smart shops, parks, hotels and museums
To attract tourists is their intent.

We always enjoy an adventure
New sights, sounds and culture to learn
And this trip was no exception
If asked, we would surely return.

Frost would love to receive more poetry. Contact Margaret: frost@margaret-graham.com

 

 

 

A 70’s Valentine By Wendy Breckon

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Wendy Breckon is a writer and occasional story teller, who scribbles near the sea, in the middle of a wood or wherever the fancy takes her. She loves life and the people walking past the window, especially if they wave! One day, she hopes to flog that ‘sitcom’ sitting in the drawer. In the meantime, her love for coffee, almond croissants, comedy, and a good film, keep those words flowing …

wendythomas

A 70’s VALENTINE
RED is the rose you left upon the chair
RED is the hair slide you placed back in my hair
RED the stain of Mateus Rose on the collar of my dress
RED is the colour of flushed cheek bones the evening I said yes
RED is the sunset above a leather seat
RED is for the old Austin and our engineering feat
RED is for nostalgia and the sweet smell of YOUTH DEW
RED is for the moment I said I love you too
X

The Journey by Jenny Falcon | Poetry Corner

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The Journey by Jenny Falcon | Poetry CornerJenny Falcon took a bi-lingual French/English secretarial course with the avowed intention of becoming the first U.K. ambassador to France:  sadly, this did not transpire.  She loves travelling to places off the tourist wish list, and has long been a member of Ladies Circle, which has expanded her horizons even further. Jenny considers family and friends crucial to her life.  Happily married for decades with one married daughter, her single best achievement, Jenny is a poet and writer.

The Journey by Jenny Falcon

The dirty mainline station was functioning with its usual, organised frenzy
People criss-crossing the forecourt, focused on their own trajectories
Announcements – almost incomprehensible – feebly fought against the sound
Of multiple movement, competing noises of man and machine

My feet took me hastily through the barrier and along the platform
I stepped with wearisome tread onto the waiting train which crouched
Like an uncomplaining mammal, gently hissing and clicking
I found a seat, tucked at one end of a carriage, and sank into the corner

At the appointed departure time, the train moved off with a gentle tug
It had a heavy load, it was that time of the evening, so many assorted souls
Making their respective homeward journeys, some pale and exhausted
Others frenetically tapping at their electronic devices, mesmerised, unaware

But the movement of the lumbering train was beguiling, almost soothing
The enforced closeness of fellow travellers did not feel intrusive
But strangely comforting, locked together in a homeward goal
Leaving behind the tangled thoughts and worries of the day

Dusk was approaching, the occasional light drew attention
The suburban gardens pulled over their shrouds of grey
The fields and parks became secretive, waiting for the moon
The grubbiness of the trackside buildings disappeared in the gloom

No longer could one’s gaze rest on the world passing by
Just a jumble of shapes, confused with the reflections from within;
Eyes closed, listening to the sounds of the train as it sped on
Wishing to arrive, to be transported away to a familiar shelter

Finally, the sounds changed, the regular beat slowed, people shuffled,
Roused themselves to face again the world outside the large cocoon
The train gently stopped and at once, the relative calm was broken
As those within, hurried away without a backward glance.

The end of the line, so I paused – waited until all had gone
Viewed the empty cartons, crumpled papers, dirty tissues
Detritus of a daily, uneventful, homeward journey, one of so many
And then, stepped off the train myself and followed the crowd

Valentine’s Day Poem: Will You Still Love Me? (With apologies to W.B. Yeats)

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AngelavalentinesdaypoemAngela Taplin, scribbler of fiction, poetry and (sometimes) Deep, Meaningful Reflections on Life. She’s a member of Chesham Writers and Scribblers and prefers la dolce vita to Ryvita any day.

 

Will you still love me? (With apologies to W.B. Yeats)

When we are old and grey

  • -Well you, anyway –

(I’ll still be softly fair

Courtesy of Shirley’s Hair)

And our joints creak

And our diaries speak –

For better or for worse –

Of regular dates with doctor or nurse,

Will you still love me?

And after so many years

Of the struggle and the tears

That life inevitably brings

  • -The swings

And roundabouts of married life

(Shall I make a good wife?)

The heartaches and the sorrows

Of so many unknown tomorrows,

Will you still love me?

When we sit in silence side by side,

By shared emotions and long memories tied,

An old dog lying on the floor,

World’s troubles held at bay beyond the door,

Will you still love me?

Will it still be me you see?

Will your heart, like mine, be true?

Well then. I will. I do.

‘APPY VALENTINE’S DAY

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The Poetry App hits 100k downloads as Brits burst with love for romantic poems to recite on Valentine’s Day

 

Tech-loving Casanovas are searching for romance in the lines of poetry, with help from The Poetry App, to woo their loved ones this Valentine’s Day. The app has been receiving 900 downloads a day in the run up to February 14.

 

With February 14 a few hours away lines from W.H. Auden’s O Tell Me The Truth About Love, are proving the most popular with the app’s 100,000 users.

 

Great delivery really gets to the heart of poetry and tongue tied romantics can hear Auden’s famous poem read aloud on the app by actors Ralph Fiennes and Julian Glover.

 

Other popular romantic love lines on the app include ‘What is all this sweet work worth, If thou kiss me not?’ from Percy Bysshe Shelley’s Love’s Philosophy and ‘All that’s best of dark and bright, Meet in her aspect and her eyes’ from Lord Byron’s She Walks in Beauty. Along with a host of others, Brits can be sure to make sure ‘love’ is the word on everyone’s lips.

 

Actor Dan Stevens, who reads work by Kipling on the app, said: “I cannot think of a better way to fall in love with the majesty of poetry.”

 

Users can compile their favourite poems into an online anthology to fill their digital bookcase. If they’re suffering from writer’s block, the app allows users to take inspiration from the great poets via collections of words which feature in their poetic masterpieces.

 

The Poetry App, created by The Josephine Hart Poetry Foundation, includes a collection of 115 poems from 16 well-known poets from Keats and Shelley, to Plath and Larkin read on the app by over 30 great British actors and actresses including Bafta winner Dominic West of The Wire and The Hour, Downton Abbey’s Dan Stevens, Silent Witness’ Emilia Fox and Academy Award winner Jeremy Irons.

 

Users can read, listen and even write their own poetry on the app.  The app is available now for free download on Android, iPad and iPhone devices and features in the Top 40 book category on the iTunes App store.