"abloom" poems
Poppies abloom in memoriam.
Fields content of the past.
Storms brewing above.
To renew them once again.
Memories of battle, scars on the earth.
Revealed once again.
In the fields.
It was the poppies to bloom
In memoriam.
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 11:19 PM UTC
Her voice is like clear water
That drips upon a stone
In forests far and silent
Where Quiet plays alone.
Her thoughts are like the lotus
Abloom by sacred streams
Beneath the temple arches
Where Quiet sits and dreams.
Her kisses are the roses
That glow while dusk is deep
In Persian garden closes
Where Quiet falls asleep.
7.2k
When the moon soars abloom,
The God rests the doom,
Like a hand that guides a spoon,
Moon that nests alone fresh and unborn,
Slithers its way,
The purest ache of yearning's sway,
As the cloud take heed and veil it away.
Jun 23, 2025
Jun 23, 2025 at 6:31 PM UTC
Laced with ribbons of moonlight
Bangladesh a touched dream at first light.
Land of my father, my mother
sweeter than nectar.
Purer than the driven snow
brighter than raw gold.
Gazing stars’ bumped up bottom
down the untouched moon.
Men and the six seasons
living in one loving fold
our one fertile sweet home!
O Allah rank our martyrs our heroes
up high in paradise in bloom
brought Bangladesh freedom abloom!
Punters cumulus clouds fly
eyes on the sky blue
on a spur hanging low tune into wild coo.
Picture independent Bangladesh
step in on the morning rug
rolls out outside the sun
walk through, the moon is inside!
Bask in, take your time
when the twilight adds a shadow
the beauty spot on your broad daylight
escape to more serendipitous discovery.
Eye on the stars or tuberoses on the ground
our free land is inspiring, beautiful even in the dark.
Laughs free from a tulip glass
across the land, air and the water
upon the reed flute stirred river
flowing downstream to the hilt
from a deep-delved foundation out of reach
her raised high flag flies
over the pivotal banyan trees.
Every flap of our ‘the sun in the green’ shaped flag,
the light of heaven on the evergreen earth!
Ah, sways in the chalice of every flower
on the land cheers beyond the warm South
whispers to our hearts and makes us feel proud.
Mar 1, 2022
Mar 1, 2022 at 10:14 PM UTC
Remember that stretch in the crack of dawn
Late we both were so I thought I had companion
I ran fast towards you and deafeningly called on
But you walked past me in the hallway and waved a yawn
Remember those mornings in our classroom
When there was no other feels than gloom
You’d suddenly crack a joke and keep us abloom
You’d give us a good laugh and avert the doom
Remember the countless lunch times we shared
You’d go to the canteen and I’d have mine prepared
Then you’d come to me and ask for candy I had spared
I’d hand you one or maybe two as if I was compelled
Remember the sunlit afternoons, humid and hot
Obliged to take a nap but there’s no problem on that
When I couldn’t, I’d look out the window overlooking a vacant lot
And some random times I’d find myself glancing at your spot
Remember the twilight spent at some place
You came to me and all of a sudden broke into my own space
I went forth to desist looking at your adorable face
But you went after me and caught me in a chase
Remember that night when everything was easy
We talked for hours and not cared about the others, really
You leaned closer and made me breathe barely
You and me were finally we and I couldn’t help but be happy
Remember some other nights when we had it rough
When we felt like giving up and everything just wasn’t enough
But we unceasingly came out tough
We swept every worry and hurdle in our path with a laugh
Remember that other night in the busy city
Under the beautiful night sky in the hour so early
You walked beside me and held my hand tightly
It was cold and windy but with you I felt summery
There was also a night I can remember precisely
Your eyes were locked on mine deeply
I repeatedly swore I’d hold you forever dearly
And you whispered, “Don’t worry, sweetie, till doomsday you got me.”
But as much as I would like the night to never end
The sun didn’t want the moon, stars and serene darkness to extend
It rose above quickly and it hurt so bad to see it transcend
Hence I woke up that morning being just your old friend.
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 10:58 PM UTC
Reaching out towards
delicately rouged areola
(dusty pink,
supple
like rose petals)
his fingertips blush madly
upon their first caress.
He nestles himself
against her blooming *****
against this garden of a women
where only lovely things--
Star Dust.
Laugher.
Poetry--
may grow.
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 2:14 PM UTC
When I return to Hope
it will be the height of summer's warm July
I'll stroll the gravel road to take the cutoff path
gathering lupine wildflowers, breezy among the dewy grass
make my morning way along heaven's labrynthine trail
with chirping cheery bird, sweet songs or distant calls of loon
where blue of sky is woven wild with magenta all abloom
and I will lose myself most complete
immersed in nature's room
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 10:22 AM UTC
viewing naked body in mirror
as if, its not my own; at my
age I sometimes wonder, am
I still desirable in his eyes?
breast are firm, buttocks
tight, shapely legs; thigh
to ankle toned to wrap
around his sinewy waist.
belly flat, waist trim, he
sneaks up behind; warm lips
to nape, his subtle bait to
taste me, it's never to late.
tongue between breast, I
know now as I gaze into
those baby browns, I've
found my answer.
*** appeal is still renown,
it shows in his eyes; as I
sigh from his touch, ummm!!
his lovings never too much.
******* taut from his touch,
tongue upon belly and navel;
laying on the table, flickers
my jewel; making me mewl.
purring like a kitten, lapping
up my milk; tongue feels like
silk, in and out licking; love
how he keeps me ticking...yes!!!
parting lips; warmly I dip, lightly
I sip upon blooming mushroom;
pulsating in reddened abloom,
spillage slowly from his plume...sweet
finger tracing veins poppin',
allowing throb to easily drop in;
nice and slow watching manhood
grow like a framed Van Gogh...he flows
****** self-confidence I'm convinced
watching him grow long and dense;
taking in every inch, winching in
delicious pleasure; his desired
measure...sexually self-confident
soaped and lathered in wetness
Jun 12, 2012
Jun 12, 2012 at 2:55 AM UTC
his twitching hand rests
on her warm thigh, say her sighs:
" valley is abloom"
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 7:57 AM UTC
*Splendiferous blousy hydrangea
Flourishing with life
My affection soaring
Like the hue
Of the bloom of the plant
Whose fragrance reminds me
Of your tenderness.*
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 1:53 PM UTC
While lilies are asleep
Her dream has taken its wings
A promise of spring
May 7, 2021
May 7, 2021 at 11:32 AM UTC
From our happy home
Through the world we roam
One week in all the year,
Making winter spring
With the joy we bring,
For Christmas-tide is here.
Now the eastern star
Shines from afar
To light the poorest home;
Hearts warmer grow,
Gifts freely flow,
For Christmas-tide has come.
Now gay trees rise
Before young eyes,
Abloom with tempting cheer;
Blithe voices sing,
And blithe bells ring,
For Christmas-tide is here.
Oh, happy chime,
Oh, blessed time,
That draws us all so near!
'Welcome, dear day,'
All creatures say,
For Christmas-tide is here.
2.2k
*Once there was a maiden who has a gardener as her wooer. And the maiden love him too.
The maiden is affluent in money called Memories. And the gardener has flower bounties called Feelings he gives daily to the maiden. Every morning the gardener would knock on the maiden's door and hand her the most beautiful picks of Feelings his garden has. Some days it's a posy of 'I love you's'; or a nosegay of 'I miss you's'. Other days it's a wreath of 'kisses' and 'hugs'. But he knew what she likes best - it's the bouquet of the four. And every time, the maiden would insist to pay him with a Memory, but sweetly he would shake his head no.
Until one morning, she heard no knock on the door nor there were flowers on her porch. She waited and waited, but nothing came and he never arrived.
Days became weeks, there were no signs of the gardener still. The Feelings he gave her started to wilt, but many remain abloom.*
"I wish the next time he knocks, he would hand me a bouquet of 'I love you's' with a coupling of 'I miss you's'," she whispered between sighs. "It's not my favorite arrangement, but those I favor among all."
*And the skies seem to hear her wish. There were three gentle knocks on the door. She smiled and stood in front of it, wishing that it's really him. And it was.
But he had no bouquets in hand. No posies nor nosegays nor wreaths.*
"There is a new damsel in town, and to her I chose to give the Feelings, but she don't seem to care," he explained. "My Feelings piled up on her lawn but she never opened the door."
*He paused.
Then earnestly,* "My garden is bare of flowers, and I ran out of Feelings to give you," he continued. "But if you would allow, could you hand me a little Memory so I can restore my garden and offer you bouquets of Feelings again?"
Then she gave him every Memory she has.
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 8:37 AM UTC
Of all the colors
or incense of fragrance imbued
of lavender in fields, violet blue
or softer still the lilac florets all abloom
pale silk, sweet the honeysuckle dew
drips and drinks the yellow painted tanager
and flits afield the newly winged swallowtail
the thrum and dance of bees bright in floral symphonies
gathering, heavy laden in the bending breeze
of all the colors, this bird iridescently shimmering
blue into the disappearing trees
too soon another day to lose
of all the colors, a favorite
I can never choose.
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 12:01 AM UTC
From our happy home
Through the world we roam
One week in all the year,
Making winter spring
With the joy we bring
For Christmas-tide is here.
Now the eastern star
Shines from afar
To light the poorest home;
Hearts warmer grow,
Gifts freely flow,
For Christmas-tide has come.
Now gay trees rise
Before young eyes,
Abloom with tempting cheer;
Blithe voices sing,
And blithe bells ring,
For Christmas-tide is here.
Oh, happy chime,
Oh, blessed time,
That draws us all so near!
"Welcome, dear day,"
All creatures say,
For Christmas-tide is here.
1.5k
on edges of swing set of summer of child
I grow -- a rust abloom while ghosts
of women once called "mother" do push
a wind a creak a falling leaf feathering
downward, candied sentiment traveling
forward
for hope for empty swing to fill to turn
the chronometer back to 12 noon, March 6, 1972
Dec 20, 2012
Dec 20, 2012 at 6:03 PM UTC
It is so cold and dark as gloom
I'm on the floor hog-tied and bound
The door is locked to my new room
I don't know if I will be found
I'm on the far side of the moon
Deep silence I can't hear a sound
I really thought I was immune
Even though no one was around
I think maybe it was about noon
I saw you two and my heart drowned
You were hand in hand love abloom
How on Earth could I have been clowned
My hand to my hip then the boom
You lay bleeding on the hard ground
Caught within the web of your loom
Grief and misery both abound
Tour song of love was out of tune
I weigh treachery by the pound
My heart break to you I impugn
My once kind smiling face has frowned
Horrid deeds drop me in a swoon
The gravity does me astound
You will be buried this afternoon
A grave and tomb will you impound
The green-eyed monster sealed my doom
But why, why did you so confound
A love, a life so opportune
My feelings for you so profound
A cuckold pathetic buffoon
Alas no peace have I found
Here on the far side of the moon
Here on the floor hogtied and bound
You lay bleeding on the hard ground
Caught within the web of your loom
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 5:47 PM UTC
In the faint light
Of a burning candle
She sat cross-legged
On her bed
Holding her head
In her hands …
Her face was as pale
As her nightgown,
Her eyes as red
As the flame
She was staring at …
Her face was expressionless
Lost in deep thought
It made her look
As if she wasn’t really alive …
Then she smiled
A worrisome smile
The impassive look
Still obvious in her gaze …
She laughed
And she laughed
Bloodcurdling as it sounded
The laughter echoed
In the closed room …
The dead look left her
Replaced by an malevolent facade
“The agony,” she said with malice
“Will end tonight.”
She grabbed the chandelier
And her eyes opened wide
Then she moved to the window
Subconsciously
And set the tip of the curtain ablaze ...
The room roared with the noise of fire
And the echo of her laughter
So devious and clear …
Shadows danced around the walls
Crazy shadows of black and grey
And the ceiling was stained with char …
The laughter soon faded into a cough
As the smoke filled her lungs
She fell to her knees
With a grin of victory on her face.
When the morning came,
Flowers were abloom
Birds took their place, chirruping,
On a charred window railing.
And sunshine slipped inside the room
Onto a dead burnt skeleton
Lying in the cinders...
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 5:10 PM UTC
the view
stands beneath
the carousel efforts
to blast through
impregnancy aBLOOM!!!!
(w)ith feral legacies
aligned intimately ornately
posthumous adulterer
awakens in need
of
****** corrective agency
towards Fenitbow
and Glightrovee ab-surd as
qua as qua
asqua aqua qua
a^s is trite melody infer[no]
t a x i yellowing each pavement
by truth in yo ' fa ' ' lo ((lo))
i by horns and turns
in plyable waves arrest
what justice juices
freel_y
obligatory
antecedent
quai noyh thlume
ye
HEaVY
Sep 26, 2020
Sep 26, 2020 at 6:17 AM UTC
The horizon , a floating melody
Abloom like any mundane wonder,
So I need not supersede all exceptions
Even in an unravelled margin.
A visual force provokes ephemeral soldity
At the boundary,the dangerous line,
Between art and philosophy
With the idols circulating popular enthusiasm
As we lament the surface from a spatial depth.
To be distinct from decay
Is not a vain desire.
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 8:52 PM UTC
The waves have sent me back
the dock wasn't steady it wrecked
as if my sun won't reach
the darkest corner of your thoughts
as if my daisies won't bloom
from your pulse so pale I assume
if tonight's a doom
and my gardens abloom
I'll never waste a single second to go wrong
for this moment lasts a lifelong
Apr 7, 2020
Apr 7, 2020 at 10:29 AM UTC
Flame-tree abloom: dabbing red,
the distance paling green -
from the half-open window
to a dreary room;
Horizon waves bathed in gold dust -
from a vessel floating
in deep, enveloping seas;
Smudged streetlamp ayonder
a dark, rainy night;
Love, blooming silent, outlying mundane life.
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 2:04 PM UTC
The truth is
spring broke open,
I wish it were winter again.
Bodies about, walking
arm in arm and
no matter how much
I practice pacing my steps,
dodging the torn-cornered
slabs of concrete
to avoid breaking my stride,
my confidence, my ankle,
I always seem to stumble
with a hand interwoven in mine.
Dexterity seeps out
through my heels,
but lets be honest,
boots aren't the best attire for
sturdy, balanced walking.
This weight
(I'd guess)
presses down on my shoulder
where the collarbone meets
whatever the other bone is called,
and the person is on a stepstool
(yes, there's a person),
floating next to me as I move
and the his heel of his palm,
the meaty part,
presses where the bones meet
(could be, I'd guess, a very masculine She)
and leaning forward, tiptoed
on the top step and
the weight is coming down hard.
How anyone could walk like that!
Me, the town *******
the drunk staggering about
trying to keep footing.
Even thinking it, projecting it,
makes it true,
especially when arguing,
no, just receiving a nice, hearty
reprimanding from babushkas
(a group of them)
with their knit hats abloom,
selling cabbage and honey
outside the Belarusian kiosk.
Now, I know what you're thinking,
and yes, the honey is delicious;
but just because they're together
doesn't mean they need to be.
Boiled cabbage and honey
for colds.
And honestly, it's not the weather
to be stopping on the sidewalk
in jeans-shoes-tee-shirt
only to hear curses
(no, not swears — lit. curses)
spat out crooked mouths,
clinging to you
all the season through.
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 8:43 PM UTC