"clematis" poems
The air is a mill of hooks --
Questions without answer,
Glittering and drunk as flies
Whose kiss stings unbearably
In the fetid wombs of black air under pines in summer.
I remember
The dead smell of sun on wood cabins,
The stiffness of sails, the long salt winding sheets.
Once one has seen God, what is the remedy?
Once one has been seized up
Without a part left over,
Not a toe, not a finger, and used,
Used utterly, in the sun's conflagration, the stains
That lengthen from ancient cathedrals
What is the remedy?
The pill of the Communion tablet,
The walking beside still water? Memory?
Or picking up the bright pieces
Of Christ in the faces of rodents,
The tame flower-nibblers, the ones
Whose hopes are so low they are comfortable --
The humpback in his small, washed cottage
Under the spokes of the clematis.
Is there no great love, only tenderness?
Does the sea
Remember the walker upon it?
Meaning leaks from the molecules.
The chimneys of the city breathe, the window sweats,
The children leap in their cots.
The sun blooms, it is a geranium.
The heart has not stopped.
5.2k
So it is my birthday today
Though this day i feel no different than normal
Perhaps a little sad
As yesterday i had a bit of a conflict
But I won't let this person have control over my birthday
Today is supposed to be special
Though most things have gone wrong
I forgot my coffee this morning
And Spotify gave me the worst songs on my playlist
Still, today is my birthday
I am sixteen
It is a time to celebrate the sixteen years i have been struggling along
Tomorrow will be the same as yesterday
And today will be the only
I think of my favorite flowers
Red columbine, clematis, water lily
Trembling, mental beauty, tranquility
I think that if someone gave me a clematis today
I would cry and preserve it forever
I'd like to hide away
And sit with my poetry
And cup of coffee
Writing about the beauty of the world
That I cannot see
Feb 23, 2022
Feb 23, 2022 at 10:05 AM UTC
The city skyline
so far removed from home
chimney pots and aerials replaced by
redbrick buildings amidst fume stained concrete towers
rooftops infested with rusting air condensers
clematis and virginia creeper replaced by
conduit and cables, the ivy of the city clings to every facade
country life contrast
urban decay cannot last
function over form
May 20, 2010
May 20, 2010 at 7:04 PM UTC
440
’Tis customary as we part
A trinket—to confer—
It helps to stimulate the faith
When Lovers be afar—
’Tis various—as the various taste—
Clematis—journeying far—
Presents me with a single Curl
Of her Electric Hair—
2.4k
13 shades of blue
With strokes of brush
****** in leathery paint
I Colour me treize
Hues of blues
Into the blue yonder
Runs my mind
Picking for my throes
Carnations blue
Cerulean paint I
Silence of my orbs
Dandelion desires
Shimmer sapphire hue
Laughter echoes
Waterfalls Periwinkle
Meconopsis curiosities
Walking avenues
Rocking plopping
Dances my heart
As morning glories
Jewelled with dew
Electric energy, glacial blush
Reflected from mine zaffre soul
Clematis colored my Aster touch
I - a blend of Majorelle blues.
© Dr. PRERNA SINGLA, 2015.
Please note that the poetry is copyrighted by Law.
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Fairy thimbles = related to fairies
Aster flower = healing
Morning glory = borns in day dies in evening
Blue hibiscus = splendour , serenity
Clematis = mental power, courage faithfulness
Dandelion = happiness
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 3:43 PM UTC
Do they value quietude
as we do?
passing through their cul de sac
with the same red blood causing through
our veins ?
The cold stone buildings are arcane
clematis seemingly choking.them.
A wider sentence permeates.
The nightingale squabbles with the swallow
and all is not as same it seems.
How peace was wished for
but the inhabitants are loathed to admit
an underlining struggle re emerges.
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 3:58 PM UTC
Emmerdale lost her confidence
and that's why she never go
to the brockwell lido again
she hated the way Jimmy
tried to pick her up
at the The Florence ale house,
she forsakes the 196 bus on Tuesdays and Fridays
to spend her time in the cookie shop
talking to the old dears about their senior cats in clover
and budding clematis
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 2:17 PM UTC
I buried her beside the clematis
Before the old untidy oak. The sullen wind
Began its circuitous hiss
A mocking presence. A cruel portend.
With fevered brow I pressed
The dark soil down, my quaking hands
My anguish succinctly expressed-
Stubborn fingers torn into blood-red strands.
Putting the ***** away, I went back indoors;
Her corpse still fixed in my sight, I made tea,
Sweat seeping from my pores,
As I drank, my hands again shook visibly.
A storm broke over the nearby hills
Roaring rolling sounds of shame,
Walls of rain thudding on my window sills-
The resonating thunder repeating her name:
‘Lucilla! Lucilla!’
Came each profound clap
Her voice within: ‘You killed me. Murderer!’
Long after the lightning’s crisp rap.
I had loved her with my infinite core,
Her screams scoured my teeming brain,
It pained me as I smashed her beautiful head on the floor,
Her rapid blood fading down a drain.
I died inside as she died my hands upon her neck,
Panting, protesting her undying love,
I gave her cheek a tender peck
Crying that the disinterested gods above
Knew I loved her too.
But, when a woman cheats,
What could an honest man do
In the face of numerous public deceits,
More so when his avaricious friends
Sample her like old women squeezing
Oranges in the market place? She trends,
Or did, for only one, distasteful, reason.
I did what I had to do. I had no alternative!
As was my due, I punished her with death,
And now subsumed in grief,
I strangle in my own dark breath
Now, each night I watch the clematis climb
Study its coiling struggling vines
Fixed in that cold, cold time
And the shallow grave on which the cold moon shines.
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 7:19 PM UTC
My Love Maria is like a great flower bed full of Clematis Maria Cornelia,
Which at damn's break; LOVE's true light brings her sweet flower's to full glory at daybreak and at midday her flower's shine with a glory like the Sun and the Moon herself,
Her sweet flowery fragrance takes me to the heavens,
Because her LOVE is white and pure like the snow on the ground in winter time,
Her smile is the gateway to heaven itself and her teeth are white like snow on the hills of Scotland itself,
So may; I be the blessed drone bee to help her husband do the blessed act of pollination in our love together,
So White and Beautiful is my Clematis Maria Cornelia,
So White and Beautiful is my Clematis Maria Cornelia,
So White and Beautiful is my Clematis Maria Cornelia.
Dec 15, 2021
Dec 15, 2021 at 8:51 AM UTC
In a garden filled with flowers
Hundreds.
Thousands.
Patient like impatiens
You lay, lie
Lac of worry.
The Wisteria hands you here
another idea
‘Forget-Me-Not’ it says.
All the while the Orchids
struggle beneath
to compete;
A heartbeat you notice
as carefully and clear
as the Clematis is.
Under the sun-flowers
you nurture the buttercups
Bluebells
maintain the Marigolds
While through the kitchen window
he washes, watches, waves, wearing his Marigolds.
The Evening primrose shows
through the Iris of our eyes
a Lilac sky
leaning on a golden glow
in the lavender scented air
and you remind yourself
This is your Gardenia.
You made it.
Maintained it.
Arranged it.
Sustained it.
For in this garden filled with timeless flowers
you were the gardener.
and now the gardener must go
so that she, herself,
may grow.
May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 6:28 PM UTC
abuse of substance,
abuse of space
bully's don't change their stripes,
maybe just their names,
makes 'em feel surrounded,
by those of like mind,
like having relations, with oneself,
the jungle used to be the jungle,
then concrete became the jungle,
because someone somewhere
needed trees removed to flush the tigers out,
then there is the internet jungle
where one on a bent thinks they are a tiger
when they are really a dead stick
from a tree of evil rotting, while doting, licking
cleaning their own, ego,
oh please don't assault my senses with your defences,
no need to prove that copy and paste, makes you a word smith,
and imitation, may be a form of flattery, no need to flatter me
I am a nobody, who has a love for language, and
sees through bully **** go back to the chicken coop and cluck,
yourself, ....
clematis scale up
flowers look grey and pointed
go boom to bloom colour
Access to knowledge is a dangerous thing
it is readily available and some don't think
they need to learn, to change, admit they were
a bully when they were young or bullied and
lastly anonymity in this day and age is a lie ; )
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 5:01 PM UTC
There is a change to the
rhythm of the light
Is it something about the leaves?
Changing from green to golden red
Or a pencil line of black
edging the flowers petals.
The untimely change of an end
In the summer weather
chilling winds
Frosted air bringing lace curtain
Crystals to the kitchen windows.
You had been as cold
As this to me of late.
I have craved your warmth
to the point
of leaving you like the summer
was leaving us now....
But I walked into the kitchen
And you smiled at me at last.
Lifting me up your arms
Light as the laced frost.
Holding onto me as tight as the
tangled clematis in our garden.
And the prosody of emotions
Colored my heart
like a kaleidoscope.
At last I thought
Poetry that I can understand.
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 2:22 PM UTC
Trees are like painted in gold
Oh!how funny when it gets cold
All the trees with flowers in red
Talk to us like they are all dead
Cause sun is hiding behind the horizon
Leaving all of us behind to be frozen
But a voice coming beyond their sight
Tells them to welcome the reaching night
And it comes the time for strangers
Though for somebody it is the time of dangers
Hawks fly over the horizon while cicadas scream
To enjoy the night's best part as we call cream
Oh!everywhere the dark,like a girl's curly black hair
Have a walk and feel the bliss of touching the night there
God save your majesty!cause this is your realm
The darkness hardly escaped due to your overwhelm
You,the orb of night has at last risen
Leading the angel of night to her mission
Under the moonlight is a path going to somewhere
Having bushes with blossomed moon flowers and a mere
The bard doesn't need where the path ends
He only sees a short way along due to the bend
Espy the sight of the moonlit path with thickets and flowers in both sides
The flaxen colored ,lambent path uttering a secret to our minds
Feel the zephyr and the impenetrable darkness
The ambosia wash away your harshness
The swift and cold wind blowing apace
Always washing the ire away and making amaze
The empyrean which recall the color of clematis flower
With twinkling stars gathered around their lover
Very blissful to have their lover today
Beaming at us more brightly than the last day
The celestial body has arrived today
Making the whole night awaken and it may
Do it until the world come to its finishing day
The moonlight is the syrup of night as I say
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 5:05 AM UTC
**Cold so cold
Even in the bloom of mid summer
I feel your lips full of need want and desire
Our bodies are as one.
The nightingale lilts its song
And the clematis soothes the moonlight
With it fragrant brambles.
Yet even With this tranquility.
Such completeness like a full moon
Something cold and unspeakable
Pierces my heart.**
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 11:17 PM UTC
Mystic
The air is a mill of hooks -
Questions without answer,
Glittering and drunk as flies
Whose kiss stings unbearably
In the fetid wombs of black air under pines in summer.
I remember
The dead smell of sun on wood cabins,
The stiffness of sails, the long salt winding sheets.
Once one has seen God, what is the remedy?
Once one has been seized up
Without a part left over,
Not a toe, not a finger, and used,
Used utterly, in the sun’s conflagrations, the stains
That lengthen from ancient cathedrals
What is the remedy?
The pill of the Communion tablet,
The walking beside still water? Memory?
Or picking up the bright pieces
of Christ in the faces of rodents,
The tame flower- nibblers, the ones
Whose hopes are so low they are comfortable -
The humpback in his small, washed cottage
Under the spokes of the clematis.
Is there no great love, only tenderness?
Does the sea
Remember the walker upon it?
Meaning leaks from the molecules.
The chimneys of the city breathe, the window sweats,
The children leap in their cots.
The sun blooms, it is a geranium.
The heart has not stopped.
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 2:34 AM UTC
Autumn clematis flowers,
Bloom in spring and in the fall;
Bees notify other bees,
Come in for the nectar haul.
From summer's Dutch white clover,
And autumn clematis blooms,
From these flowers sweetness flows,
Filling air with sweet perfumes.
They are sweet, poor, man's flowers,
Autumn clematis climbs trees;
When people walk near their blooms,
Folks attention, they will seize.
Autumn clematis flowers,
Some people pay money for;
I'll go where they're unwanted,
Weeding them will be my chore.
When their bloom time is over,
Next years blooms, for them I'll wait;
For their heavenly perfume,
That I always find is great.
May 25, 2020
May 25, 2020 at 5:58 PM UTC
*A Little Bloom of Moonlight
By
Jude Kyrie
Within the pristine stillness
Lies the soft velvet of night.
A sad moon peers down
Knowing all that has been.
A night bird sings his song
Softly with the pathos
Of a thousand years
Trees silhouette
in the moonlight
Reaching to the night sky
From their rooted life.
In the hedgerow
a white abundance
of tangled clematis
shine under its light.
The night world blooms
As the dust of sleep falls
into children's eyes.*
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 6:07 AM UTC
Looking through my photographs
For an image that will last.
Having something to say
About how I lived my days
Individual not in disguise
No forced colours or inverted skies
Or those enhancements using other links
That make your mind blink.
Has to be simple not constructed or planned
Touch of serendipity lending a hand
So my new update from a photo I take
With a child's windmill and a bird on a slate
A friendly sheep , a ceramic heap
Scattering stones, last season's bulb grown
A clematis shoot tied up with string
These are some of my favourite things.
For what is beauty but a surprise
Something unexpected, a moment's desire.
Love Mary
Feb 10, 2018
Feb 10, 2018 at 6:12 AM UTC
Love has a Southern flavor: honeydew,
ripe cantaloupe, the honeysuckle’s spout
we tilt to basking faces to breathe out
the ordinary, and inhale perfume ...
Love’s Dixieland-rambunctious: tangled vines,
wild clematis, the gold-brocaded leaves
that will not keep their order in the trees,
unmentionables that peek from dancing lines ...
Love cannot be contained, like Southern nights:
the constellations’ dying mysteries,
the fireflies that hum to light, each tree’s
resplendent autumn cape, a genteel sight ...
Love also is as wild, as sprawling-sweet,
as decadent as the wet leaves at our feet.
"Love Has a Southern Flavor" has been published by The Lyric, Contemporary Sonnet, The Eclectic Muse, Better Than Starbucks, The Chained Muse, Setu (India), Victorian Violet Press and Trinacria
Feb 23, 2020
Feb 23, 2020 at 12:44 AM UTC
Nightglow A Summer Song
By
Jude Kyrie
*The perfume of summer
falls sweetly into the night air.
If I breathe softly
I catch the fragrance
of my lover’s hair.
And this nocturnal dampness
shall hold me here transfixed
throughout the last shadows
of nightfall.
If heaven were to fill my
glass with ambrosia.
And I were to drain it
in a single swallow.
This Nightglow would still see me
standing sober and mellow.
My eyes fixed upon the heady bloom
of the summer moon.
The wild clematis and honeysuckle
tangled in its gentle light.
Sleep shall remain far away.
As I swallow the last of the
honeyed sweetness
of this nightglow.*
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 2:07 PM UTC
~_Will the sunflower turn to us, will the clematis
Stray down, bend to us, tendril and spray
Clutch and cling?_
—T.S. Eliot, "Burnt Norton", Collected Poems 1909-1962
Tendrils Twining
written January 21st, 2021
Tendrils twining
tightly around
pulling me towards?
or is it away?
or apart into pieces?
wrapped tightly
by tendrils twining
these cherished treasures
I have been pulled into
resting here held safe
while the world builds around
over them and me and us
until we are seen no more
known no more
remembered no more
tendrils twining
tightly around.
Jan 21, 2021
Jan 21, 2021 at 3:49 PM UTC