Probir Gupta Aug 13

Look back at tulips
On mountain tops in mauve sky
Tense blue rings of smoke

A Haiku
Jobira Jun 20

Daisies and tulips
Like the wild dandelions,
Age in Fall and Spring
Winter and Summer seasons.
They'll wilt in maturity

Beauty fades away in time.
Mary Winslow Sep 2016

"The tulips are too excitable; it is winter here."
wrapped in your clean sheets, Sylvia,
you were hoping for sterile whiteness
to enter the clouds
sleepwalking the beach bleached as the shells
these conflagrations come burning
through your hospital room
cutting the illusion of orderliness
a bouquet of red tulips.

"My body is a pebble to them, they tend it as water."
exhausted by poetry
the nurses watered and pruned your garden
until you grew only emptiness
but such doting and fussiness leads
back to vibrant flowers
hothouse tulips
one million beautiful assumptions
of the spring
and you had no rest.

Tulips are incompatible
with white sheets
when snow hangs on their branches
a house servant’s white uniform
on deep scarlet
but you knew that tulips don’t age, do they?

Tulips are attentive pupils
of exuberance
will not survive winter season thus
O they were
eating all the oxygen in the room you say
but you know youth will
while you were scrubbing off remnants of your life
and you feared their season
what you needed was holly or blackberry brambles
witch hazel’s coarse and crabby resilience
because they understand the only way to live is to take
vengeance on winter and strife.

copyright Mary Winslow 2016 all rights reserved. This is a tribute to another one of the great women of American poetry. I hope you enjoy it!
Enola Cabrera Jun 2016

You left with a fancy of lust in your eyes
And every step you took left a red tulip
in your wake

Undying love
Peter Balkus May 2016

I've been kissing tulips today,
and it felt great.
Not as great though
as kissing her lips.

I've been kissing tulips today
all day,
that I'm kissing her.

It wasn't the same though,
it wasn't the same.

Peter J Thomas Apr 2016

Tulips standing tall and proud,

Of colours different to the crowd,

I wonder what I'm going to see,

When the tulips time is history.

They say there's plenty other flower
But you're the one that matter
Should i want another?
This flower meant more than a lover

The last few petals are still there
Making it hard for me to stare
Inevitable, i still care
But who's to say all is fair

You fought well hard & true
I guess i did so, too
I'm trying to save you, really i do
Tulips are weak, like us two.

Svelte Rogue, ACS

taia Apr 2016

lips like a tulip
do i need to distinguish
to which i refer?

as i sit laughing...
Lou Morgan Mar 2016

You didn't care much for Easter
or for flowers for that matter
yet I went to the store and bought
a bouquet of pink and yellow tulips.

Now here I stand in the midday sun
my shaking fingers clutching the long green stems,
as a warm, slow tear drips off my chin.
I kneel down and set the flowers down next to the temporary sign that holds your name,
wondering again why I even bothered.

I grab a handful of the dirt that now hugs your body and cringe at the thought of you laying just feet below me.
I can't help but wish that you were here.

what i wish i was doing today.
Trevor Blevins Feb 2016

When did you tell me that the sunrise was unwelcome, that the hallways gave you such anxiety and that I should just as well stay in?

I told you once that you looked young, yet sixty years had passed since your death, and you, Sylvia, were beautiful...

Said the vivid tulips ate your oxygen.

Poets have great sympathy for you in the way we gasp in sorrow and strive for beauty.

I know exactly why I love you.

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