"bougainville" poems - Hello Poetry

Why does it turn its head from side to side?.......... Watching from the bay window, i knew that very moment, it was obviously up to something, a mischief at most. it was comfortably hunched under the cool shade of the sweetsop tree; the fuschia bougainville, its thorny branches added to the shade. Glaring blue-gray eyes appeared to be basking in the sunny weather, the yellow and pink wildflowers, its body, hiding from the rays of the sun, hiding 'neath the tall, swaying branches of the oxygen plant, with its soft stems moving weirdly like a see-saw, the succulent leaves, one by o n e being cut off its stem. It seemed sure, as it hit its nose a g a i n s t the whole bunch over and over....the leaves, one by one, fell softly on the ground. Now, i know why it turned its head, from side to side... how surprised was i, for it gathered the fallen leaves to where it hid underneath the sweetsop tree......for there, the leaves occupied some space, and then i saw it lay upon the coolness of the gathered leaves, then leant its head beside an old empty clay *** cold, too, i suppose.....fell asleep in comfort. I fought the urge to lift this clever, self-reliant creature, take it to my lap and cuddle it, lest it scratch me with its furry paws, glare at me, even growl at me....instead of rubbing its body near my legs giving me sweet meows, soft purrs, so, i left it alone while cat-napping. Sally Copyright 2014 Rosalia Rosario A.Bayan

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Jun 29, 2014

Jun 29, 2014 at 12:39 AM UTC

sally-a-bayan

Why Does It Turn Its Head From SideTo Side?

Why does it turn its head from side to side?.......... Watching from the bay window, i knew that very moment, it was obviously up to something, a mischief at most. it was comfortably hunched under the cool shade of the sweetsop tree; the fuschia bougainville, its thorny branches added to the shade. Glaring blue-gray eyes appeared to be basking in the sunny weather, the yellow and pink wildflowers, its body, hiding from the rays of the sun, hiding 'neath the tall, swaying branches of the oxygen plant, with its soft stems moving weirdly like a see-saw, the succulent leaves, one by o n e being cut off its stem. It seemed sure, as it hit its nose a g a i n s t the whole bunch over and over....the leaves, one by one, fell softly on the ground. Now, i know why it turned its head, from side to side... how surprised was i, for it gathered the fallen leaves to where it hid underneath the sweetsop tree......for there, the leaves occupied some space, and then i saw it lay upon the coolness of the gathered leaves, then leant its head beside an old empty clay *** cold, too, i suppose.....fell asleep in comfort. I fought the urge to lift this clever, self-reliant creature, take it to my lap and cuddle it, lest it scratch me with its furry paws, glare at me, even growl at me....instead of rubbing its body near my legs giving me sweet meows, soft purrs, so, i left it alone while cat-napping. Sally Copyright 2014 Rosalia Rosario A.Bayan

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Roses are elegant , Bougainville are radiant , Sunflowers are shining , Jasmines are intensely white. Roses smell floral, Bougainville fragrant tropical, Sunflowers are earthly, Jasmine gives an exotic aroma. They blooms in my mind, They filled my cozy oasis, Leaving behind blissful traces...

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Feb 15, 2025

Feb 15, 2025 at 12:07 AM UTC

Nature

Blooms of Mind:

Roses are elegant , Bougainville are radiant , Sunflowers are shining , Jasmines are intensely white. Roses smell floral, Bougainville fragrant tropical, Sunflowers are earthly, Jasmine gives an exotic aroma. They blooms in my mind, They filled my cozy oasis, Leaving behind blissful traces...

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I'm nothing but a silenced laugh, I breath fire smells a fantasy bougainville, I speak cursed sounds a soothing lullaby, Honey, I'm your foe, and you know me as amigo, I'm bleeding of lies, betrayal–a vicious sinner, And this skin-deep will last until you realize, I'm a ****** retaliation dressed in devotion.

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Sep 24, 2018

Sep 24, 2018 at 8:12 AM UTC

havensky

Your Sweetest Nightmare

I'm nothing but a silenced laugh, I breath fire smells a fantasy bougainville, I speak cursed sounds a soothing lullaby, Honey, I'm your foe, and you know me as amigo, I'm bleeding of lies, betrayal–a vicious sinner, And this skin-deep will last until you realize, I'm a ****** retaliation dressed in devotion.

7

You are like Bougainville In my garden of love Making it colourful With various ways of Showing your love Taking the place of a Father, brother, friend Lover, husband and My endearing child Encouraging as a father Protecting as a brother Supporting as a friend Caring as a lover Loving as a husband And as a child demanding Winning my heart by Being my reflection Intertwined within me As a shadow of my soul !

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Jun 15, 2016

Jun 15, 2016 at 2:35 PM UTC

prathipa-nair

Shadow of my Soul

You are like Bougainville In my garden of love Making it colourful With various ways of Showing your love Taking the place of a Father, brother, friend Lover, husband and My endearing child Encouraging as a father Protecting as a brother Supporting as a friend Caring as a lover Loving as a husband And as a child demanding Winning my heart by Being my reflection Intertwined within me As a shadow of my soul !

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There’s more to a Poet that meets the eye Poet spelled backwards is Teop and that is why According to the dictionary, Teop is a language of Northern Bougainville, Papua New Ginea Imagine that You probably thought a Poet was alone, but the dictionary let it be known Being a Poet when you think about it can come in many different languages Cultures expressed in Poetry foreign vibes Teop being a language all its own Good information for letting it be known How a Poet expresses in varying foreign words Let’s face it all they want is to be heard Poet and Teop in the spoken written tongue What it all mount’s to is communication Poet into Teop and any other culture are that one’s who are the assembler of words Culture Poet’s are the one’s in their native language interacting the thought The idea of sought So Poet and Teop do have something in common If you are reading this, I got your attention Of course, I had to mention.

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Apr 18, 2018

Apr 18, 2018 at 6:42 PM UTC

preservationman

POET VS TEOP

There’s more to a Poet that meets the eye Poet spelled backwards is Teop and that is why According to the dictionary, Teop is a language of Northern Bougainville, Papua New Ginea Imagine that You probably thought a Poet was alone, but the dictionary let it be known Being a Poet when you think about it can come in many different languages Cultures expressed in Poetry foreign vibes Teop being a language all its own Good information for letting it be known How a Poet expresses in varying foreign words Let’s face it all they want is to be heard Poet and Teop in the spoken written tongue What it all mount’s to is communication Poet into Teop and any other culture are that one’s who are the assembler of words Culture Poet’s are the one’s in their native language interacting the thought The idea of sought So Poet and Teop do have something in common If you are reading this, I got your attention Of course, I had to mention.

19

Do you ever wonder down your memoirs, And gaze upon the sight. Of decisions made and choices missed And questioned if you were right. Do you see the tape of your first big mistake? Playing over and over again. Had you stayed. Or run away. Chased by the laughter of men. Do you hear the glass breaking? Mother told you no. And if only you had listened Your friend wouldn’t have had to go. Is the smell of his breath still sticking to your skin where kisses he placed set? Are they anchors to your body? A chord to be played on a fret? Does the vivid memory of Ben Sting just as before? Has Ben let you go? Or do you just go back, begging for more? What about your first time? Do you love him still? Is he too far gone down a road With you trapped in the bougainville? You look for the rewind. Wish for another chance. Hope to god that all this Is just what they call lost in a trance.

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Jul 31, 2019

Jul 31, 2019 at 6:15 PM UTC

hannah-j-strauss

Looking for the Exit

Do you ever wonder down your memoirs, And gaze upon the sight. Of decisions made and choices missed And questioned if you were right. Do you see the tape of your first big mistake? Playing over and over again. Had you stayed. Or run away. Chased by the laughter of men. Do you hear the glass breaking? Mother told you no. And if only you had listened Your friend wouldn’t have had to go. Is the smell of his breath still sticking to your skin where kisses he placed set? Are they anchors to your body? A chord to be played on a fret? Does the vivid memory of Ben Sting just as before? Has Ben let you go? Or do you just go back, begging for more? What about your first time? Do you love him still? Is he too far gone down a road With you trapped in the bougainville? You look for the rewind. Wish for another chance. Hope to god that all this Is just what they call lost in a trance.

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