"cornflowers" poems
Even the sun-clouds this morning cannot manage such skirts.
Nor the woman in the ambulance
Whose red heart blooms through her coat so astoundingly ----
A gift, a love gift
Utterly unasked for
By a sky
Palely and flamily
Igniting its carbon monoxides, by eyes
Dulled to a halt under bowlers.
O my God, what am I
That these late mouths should cry open
In a forest of frost, in a dawn of cornflowers.
28.5k
They are always with us, the thin people
Meager of dimension as the gray people
On a movie-screen. They
Are unreal, we say:
It was only in a movie, it was only
In a war making evil headlines when we
Were small that they famished and
Grew so lean and would not round
Out their stalky limbs again though peace
Plumped the bellies of the mice
Under the meanest table.
It was during the long hunger-battle
They found their talent to persevere
In thinness, to come, later,
Into our bad dreams, their menace
Not guns, not abuses,
But a thin silence.
Wrapped in flea-ridded donkey skins,
Empty of complaint, forever
Drinking vinegar from tin cups: they wore
The insufferable nimbus of the lot-drawn
Scapegoat. But so thin,
So weedy a race could not remain in dreams,
Could not remain outlandish victims
In the contracted country of the head
Any more than the old woman in her mud hut could
Keep from cutting fat meat
Out of the side of the generous moon when it
Set foot nightly in her yard
Until her knife had pared
The moon to a rind of little light.
Now the thin people do not obliterate
Themselves as the dawn
Grayness blues, reddens, and the outline
Of the world comes clear and fills with color.
They persist in the sunlit room: the wallpaper
Frieze of cabbage-roses and cornflowers pales
Under their thin-lipped smiles,
Their withering kingship.
How they prop each other up!
We own no wilderness rich and deep enough
For stronghold against their stiff
Battalions. See, how the tree boles flatten
And lose their good browns
If the thin people simply stand in the forest,
Making the world go thin as a wasp's nest
And grayer; not even moving their bones.
23.6k
(a conversational collaboration with Chris D Aechtner)
"remember the dream I had when we were 10?
(waves and waves of cornflowers everywhere)
about the boy and the closet?
(sunflowers, circle, glass house?....closet, yes)
cornflower blue
(the closet was cornflower blue?)
the light in that dream was cornflower blue
(the air, the atmospheric light?)
yes, especially in the closet
I had that dream for so long
I'll never forget
little boy blue and the kingfishers --
the blue and white china plates
with the bridge and the lovers; the two doves in the willow tree,
that made me look for japanese letters....horse.
the funny things we do as children
(you are writing a poem....)
catch the words, my love
*(you already wrote a poem up there; bridge it together --
I dried cornflowers with dandelions in a blue and white book; but it wasn't a dream.
Well, in a way it was, because at the time, I was floating in the clouds)*
he wore a blue and white striped top in my dream
and I remember him
when I look at the sky,
the clouds and the golden sun --
I caught the words!
(yes! did you string them all together?)
not yet!"
Aug 30, 2012
Aug 30, 2012 at 4:21 AM UTC
I once found my heart in Catawaba
Where the blue cornflowers flourish between
Arabesque petals floating from the snowy dogwood trees
Encasing the air with the thick fragrance of innocence
You took from me beneath the dying maple tree.
The monotone cubicle in which you thrived
Wouldn't suffice for the rose petals lingering
Between your flushed lips drenched pale in the moonlight
Breathing "You are beautiful"
Smoking cigarettes with your mind.
Jul 14, 2012
Jul 14, 2012 at 3:05 AM UTC
Her dark pupils
were surrounded
by a raging silver flame
swallowed by a wave
of cerulean blue
It was as if each shade
swirled into one whirlpool
of exquisite beauty;
The soft petals
of a field of cornflowers,
The electric flash
of lightning during a storm,
The sparkling surface
of a star-stained river
rushing to join the sea
—
A sea that made it difficult to stay above the waves
Dec 13, 2018
Dec 13, 2018 at 7:27 AM UTC
The lightest touch brisks my skin,
lost in halcyon amongst the wild marigolds
and cornflowers, I play with laughter.
Azure skies roll into my being
like a Shire horse I am caught
in trusting servitude.
The bladed grass slivers
a serpentine's story
florescent in camouflage.
As a reborn sprite
I commend myself.
Jun 7, 2012
Jun 7, 2012 at 4:42 PM UTC
Sometimes I miss you in a way that it hurts
Sometimes I so need to hold you when you're not here
I pick up your pillow and hug it
Sometimes you're here holding my hand,
Your breath kissing my cheek
Sometimes I feel you in the room silently keeping me safe
Sometimes a message reaches my soul from yours that lifts my spirit
Sometimes I can't go on without you and yearn for your return
Sometimes love is a mistress
That takes you and throws you against the wall but never lets go
Sometimes my heart overflows with so much love
It drenches me
My body soaked and heavy with emotion, passion
And a longing for the brush of your lips on mine
Sometimes this life is a mass of lost thoughts
Competing with a reality of the day
Sometimes I wish I could lift you up in my arms
Take you to a field of buttercups, poppies and cornflowers
And just lie and stare at the sky with you in my arms
Sometimes, sometimes, sometimes
Jul 1, 2010
Jul 1, 2010 at 3:19 PM UTC
~
I'm not pretty enough for cornflowers.
Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 5:09 AM UTC
Sentimental,
A touch of my soul with fingertips lurid,
Passionate, fiery, awake!
Stroke my soul with dying cornflowers,
Bachelors' buttons washed out!
Once moist and fresh,
Death by dehydration of suns heat destroyed!
Meadow was brightly biting harsh,
Piercing bright,
Once lightly fragrant ,
Hurling wishes at aqua acquaintance,
Share loves wishes and kisses with my soul,
As I sit I live and breathe,
So she will survive,
Burning with sun washed love,
She's alive!
Laced with crushed velvet, in royal blue,
Speckled scarlet tinged, stained,
Heart in tamponade,
Engulfed, crushed, warm blood soaked,
Drenched in loves' colourful array.
Fragility personified honestly,
Soft, warming, comforting,
Only for you!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 4:49 AM UTC
Secret agent.
Agent provocateur.
She's got herself a boyfriend now.
A human sacrifice to free.
Taken yet another lover.
Life chucked her on a rolling ball.
A downhill rat,she's running.
Cunning hits and crazy fits.
My God, that girl is stunning.
Thought she had it all and more.
Said cornflowers just ain't like like that, twiddling on the Bachelors Buttons.
Life chucked her on a rolling ball.
A down hill rat,she's running.
Cunning hits and crazy fits.
My God, that girl is stunning.
She makes no broken promises.
Stormy seas are for riding,
Forbidden to be free.
You who were perfection.
Crazy notion, love devotion.
Riding on a carousel.
For she's the lady Moriarty.
She's willing for the ****
(c) Livvi
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 12:04 PM UTC
That solid rock
on which pearly
mountains grew
seemed ageless.
Like shifting tots
on playgrounds
more than anything
thrilled to finally fill
the bitter silence
speak to me again
with church bell
hush.
Applaud with clapping
wings of butterflies, but
where have all the fireflies
gone?
Little lanterns barging in
like riots begging
the whiskey night,
like riverbanks in
Kentucky.
Better than the blue
plain cornflower hill
that thanked Heaven
for it's tender wet kiss.
It's raining,
it's raining again
sings the dawn.
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 9:25 PM UTC
Cornflowers so blue
Lovely skies soft, powder blue
Blues within banished
Nov 15, 2010
Nov 15, 2010 at 7:52 AM UTC
I cannot be doing with this peering into the darkness
This wondering and dreaming is a little tiring, my darling -
As tired as the dusty cornflowers, once upon a time, beguiling.
Your heart - perched and sat - is being wasted, love pouring
Upon something that will be, nevermore.
Nov 29, 2011
Nov 29, 2011 at 3:16 PM UTC
his eyes are beautiful
they threaten to **** me into
the blue abyss of mystery
his eyes rival the beauty
of the deep azure oceans
his eyes remind me of
the cloudless sky
so bright and vibrant
flowers could never compete
with his eyes
morning glories
and cornflowers
and blue orchids
can't compare
I could stare at his eyes
for the rest of my life
and never get used to their beauty
sapphire stones inset
to his handsome face
bottomless seas of eyes
that pull me under
I am captivated
with his eyes
May 20, 2025
May 20, 2025 at 2:48 PM UTC
I have very sad eyes and white hands.
My child will be born happy.
Over the earthen bread the napkin of the sky will fall,
the baptism of my son among the men who, just like me, love
their land and their work, the joy of giving, the beauty of being human,
the tall firs’ grace, the murmuring waters, the living seed within the ground.
Upon the teardrops of ****** pain a song will fall,
that unseen song that was written on a starlit staff.
For us it’s raining too much, too often,
someone gathers all cornflowers and scatters them on our bed.
When I look into my child’s eyes I am smaller and smaller,
I am warmer and warmer and I have a house of my own
with fireplace and toys,
with simple windows that let the clear sky come in entirely
after my child wipes off the steam of his breath.
All those flowers between us and we stay together.
My child plays with my fingers without counting them.
For him they are more and more as he touches them.
Just like me, he was born happy.
Nov 17, 2017
Nov 17, 2017 at 8:46 AM UTC
I love the country life,
in between the feral cats
and hawks.
Morning coffee March
I sip it with Irish crème and smile.
Last night I fell
asleep inside her.
Safe and sound
and domesticated in her
tight wet walls.
We came together in
determined silence.
Family in the next
room.
I love the country life;
the ponds and streams and
sun soaked meadows.
The wild asparagus and
gooseberries.
In her arms my spirit rests.
My tired wings
find a nest better
than the barn swallows,
stronger than the eagles.
I'm a brook trout
swimming through
her veins.
I love the country life.
Coonhounds and cornflowers,
coyotes yipping and
bobcats tiptoeing up on
shocked field mice.
Last night, after we died
a little in each other's arms,
I gently rubbed her
cheek and kissed her
eyelids, nose, and lips.
I breathed in deep the
smell of lavender, *** and
home, the safest
fragrance I know.
Apr 11, 2020
Apr 11, 2020 at 11:31 PM UTC
Don’t know where
she said
standing by the back gate
which backed
onto the woods
with the evening creeping in
and she having snuck out
of her house without
her mother seeing
looked quite nervous
and kept looking back
over her shoulder
as if her mother
may have followed
can’t go to my place
she said
or mine you said
they’re always there
especially this time
of an evening
what about the hay barn?
You suggested
looking at her eyes
blue cornflowers
and that smile
that could have lit
fires in dark places
and she said
don’t want no hay stalks
touching my ***
and she laughed
and you wanted to capture
her laughter
and that smile
and her bright blue eyes
and your youth
and that thinking
you had forever
and the monopoly
on truth.
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 2:57 PM UTC
dripping with candle
burns when
silent confession in grimace draws heart
in the bark of oak grown together in two
As with moss inaudible
insects
on the steps of cold
go and hear the old wood with knots
drink honey
You'll feel better
in addition to the field of cornflowers poppies bloom
and cheeks
and then
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 3:29 PM UTC
We’re going on a duck hunt; just granny and me!
We’re going on a duck hunt, let me tell you what we see.
We are going to the river, with a bag of stale bread.
Fighting off seagulls and pigeons as they hover above our heads.
We will pass by the riverbanks where grasses and trees grow tall.
Watching and listening to the river as it tumbles, rolls, and roars.
We will see flowers of different colours. White daisies, yellow buttercups, blue cornflowers, covering the parklands in a dazzling display.
My Granny says seeing the kaleidoscope of colours makes her day!
We will pass by rabbits hopping about their homes of grassy mounds.
Every now and then pricking up their ears; listening to every sound.
We will pass by geese gathered in a gaggle.
Big bottomed geese walking with a waggle.
We will pass by swans gliding with their necks held high.
Several young cygnets tucked in and swimming by their mums side.
We will pass all these wonders of nature as we make our way to the ducks.
Listening for every quack and cluck.
We reach our goal with a bag of bread in-hand.
Throwing the bread to the ducks who say thank you with a “quack” and a “cluck.”
Before you know it, the swans are there too. Then the seagulls and pigeons “shoosh, go away you!”
Ducks are the best of the lot you see. They make me laugh; I think they are funny.
No particular reason but my granny says, “It is because I am only three.”
We’re going on a duck hunt; just granny and me!
We’re going on a duck hunt, to feed the ducks their tea.
Sep 5, 2020
Sep 5, 2020 at 6:35 AM UTC
You can give them the world and show them how they shine,
you can read love and meaning into every line,
but if the author of the script doesn't see you together,
let cornflowers grow over it and you will be better
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 7:57 AM UTC
Hush hung from the morning’s time
A sleepy half awakened rhyme
Composing ever onward lines
Of oh so intricate designs,
Those whisper wafted perfumed things
The dawning day so often brings
Adrift upon awakening air
Silk stencilled dreams that they both share.
Wishes turned within their hearts
Of newborn days, of brand new starts,
And blue eyes squinted at the sun
That clambered golden sequin spun
Towards its throne above the sky
Where only larks and angels fly,
While smile touched smile as soul touched soul
For dawn dreams render all things whole.
Then hand in hand they meadow walked
As intertwined their voices talked
Of why and where and when and who
Of how dreams start two lives anew,
While cornflowers and poppies dance
In sweet reflections of romance,
Like singing geishas as they play
The music of that first born day.
Between the day’s unwinding hours
They walked on sands and bathed in showers
Of sanguine sun and rainbow shade
That flickered as their moments fade
Into that drawn out winding way
That signified the end of day,
Two shadow painted marionettes
Adrift upon their own sunsets…
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 8:59 AM UTC
My elephant earring fell out of my ear
and onto some lonely floor in a place
that is not here or there.
But I know that when it
hit the ground, it cracked open, letting out particles of dust.
And in the dust there is a galaxy, full of
stars and planets, and dusty cracks.
Through the cracks there is an orange.
I peel back the skin and there is a lemon.
I peel back that skin and my grandmother is there
holding the leash of her dead golden retriever.
Inside of her there is a field of cornflowers and Queen Anne’s lace.
Beneath the field are quilts
made of every t-shirt I have ever owned.
Behind the stitching is a rejection letter.
I tear open the seal and in the envelope is a bottle of whiskey.
I open the bottle and take a swig,
but my mouth is filled with marbles.
I spit them out.
Each marble is covered in dust and as I wipe it off, I can see that each one is filled with stardust.
But inside one marble is my elephant earring,
lost,
somewhere in between here and there.
Jul 19, 2016
Jul 19, 2016 at 6:14 PM UTC
All the blessings; The **** of the Holy Spirit,
3 1/2 Stories of anger of terrible ideas!
George Golanini, the gradient of George, King
George of 3 Gray scents. Go to the cathedral
for the funeral's funeral. Everyone heard about them,
the phone came to Pharaoh,
the others were asleep and very happy and delighted.
Hold the tooth with your fingers.
It is made of silk, but not in chains.
drink. Asian-American tigers
have 3 American and German citizens.
Six German frogs offer language arts,
computer games in the bank of the United States.
You lose your freedom of arrest.
The relatives of William Tell have found the world.
Mexico breaks the white list.
The population of Saudi Arabia
is about 400 grams. 2. Try adding placemarks,
check boxes and prices. Thank you for the devil,
the prophets, the prophets
and the good poets. Cornflowers,
A small book begins with a small western phrase.
Women's position. The oil descends
on the mountains. This is a golden crown
and a golden gold symbol.
Use negation nəgāSHən Definitions
of negation Substantive 1,
the contradiction or negation
of something must be confirmation
or negation of the findings
Synonyms: negation of contradiction,
repudiation's refutation of refutation;
nullify the cancellation's revocation,
repeal the abrogation 2, the absence
or the opposite of something
in reality, or positive evil is not
only the negation of goodness;
Synonyms: opposite opposite
opposites opposite, converse
converse, inverse absence
of examples of negation.
It can only be identified
by its negation of modernism;
Because its architecture is free
of perception, it has no form
of its own. 29 more examples
of Synonyms of negation.
Feb 1, 2019
Feb 1, 2019 at 4:49 AM UTC
That's it,
the way it is,
the way the sun
just gets up there
in the sky each day
and shines,
and then goes back
and hides
as the night comes,
the moon reflecting
the sun's rays
as if they
were her own,
as if it was her
power there,
shining,
beams romantic
in that silky way.
The dame in the cafe
had that look,
Johnny mused,
sipping his Earl Grey,
taking in the blonde broad,
hair on the shoulders,
face white,
eyes shining
blue as cornflowers.
She talked to another,
her hands gesturing,
her fingers thin
longish nails.
He sipped more tea.
She had small *******
he took note,
kind of tucked up there ,
unused, unseen,
her *** planted
on the chair
like it belonged there,
kind of tight and neat
and well
he looked away,
sipped the tea
and ate
his omelette
with mushrooms
and cheese
and took
one last peak
at the dame
just to please.
Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 4:04 PM UTC
roses are red
violets are blue
romance has died
with my love for you
cornflowers are blue
i've gone brain-dead
everyday i suffer
from existential dread
hydrangeas are pink
i like to eat eggs
i really wanna love
what's in between your legs
daffodils are gold
honeysuckle is white
don't tell your parents
what we did last night
poinsettias are red
my dad is a mister
got drunk last night
and done ****** my sister
sunflowers are yellow
you look like a bee
the only thing we're missing
is the you + me
happy valentine's day
Feb 19, 2019
Feb 19, 2019 at 12:50 PM UTC