"gladiolus" poems
Blooming flowers in the heart of sky
dancing the shades vibrant of butterfly
magic of grass green
blending in light of the dawn serene
Rainbow with all it's colors
sprinkled on the contours of earth
red and green and blue
Like Sparkling drops of resting dew
soothing white lillies
and sensual red rose
captivating fragrance of jasmine
and the smiling marigold
ornamental purple vines of bougainvillea
glorifying in the bright of light
in the cloudy patterns of heaven
inciting mischief in the playful minds
Bells of Gladiolus
supreme in its strength
Sunlit sword of lily
Blushing,when emerging from it's stem
Manisha
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 12:02 PM UTC
i thought you were a painting at first,
with the way those dyed eyes matched mine,
with lips as full as a novel and as red as lower worlds,
made me think you were a painting--of something most divine.
i thought you were a painting at first,
with the way those small hands rose as mine did,
with the way those lips tasted of cookie dough and warm sugar,
with the way those eyes never seemed to leave me for naught,
and abandon me in lakes.
i thought you were a painting at first,
when i approached and eels ignited my mind--
with the thought--the picture-- the painting of you, O dear,
and set my mind within seas--clouds--of gladiolus's.
i thought you were a painting at first,
with that ever-always smile,
for do you not bleed at the mouth,
with that kryptonic sunshine?
i thought you were a painting at first, my love,
when my hand touched your sadistic smirk,
knowing i couldn't truly reach you,
and the heathers over-lapse me.
i thought you were a painting at first,
when my cheek touched your cool one,
and stained it with cherry pop blush,
for i know it's your favorite,
as you wear it to bed, all-while.
i thought you were a painting at first,
when i froze and my mind sung eulogies,
at my death at your satin feet,
for your beauty reaches past heaven.
i thought you were a painting at first,
when my smile synced with yours,
when they poked our eyes,
when they wrinkled our noses,
and when the sun shone still--even though ours were enough.
i thought you were painting at first,
until our lips met 'neath blue light,
and the shivers i bled,
fueled our world a-night.
for, dear, i thought you were a painting at first,
when i could see my heart beat--pace as yours,
and the moon and sun morphed--into entity,
and made us water lilies birthed with ravens.
i thought you were a painting at first,
when God told me,
'for you are the most beautiful person i have birthed from my lungs,
and spoke my heart to,
for you--and your painting here--are the only things that dance to my world.'
i thought you were a painting at first, my love,
when i bleed into pots and saw you doing the same,
now i know when my time is scuffed 'neath the barren sand,
your blood--our resin--stains lots.
lots.
lots.
for i know you're a stunning painting, O love,
for you lock many hearts.
i'd hope to own thrice of many,
so you could master theft over, and over, and over again.
i know you're a wondrous painting, O dear,
when people beg you to pose,
so they could see that beauty too, O love,
and kiss it a wish.
i know you're a masterpiece, love--
sweeter than melted butter,
and the finest of berries,
for you're worth--worshiped--much more than,
such mundane things.
i know you're a vintage classic, O wonder,
when my eyes turn blinding stars,
and fill up night skies.
for i knew you were a--
masterpiece...
master... piece...
master... piece...
master.
for i knew you were a human, O master,
when my eyes gloss over in drunken clarity,
and my lips spill cider;
my hand becomes water at your touch,
for the pool knows no words,
to bask in my beauty.
Jun 21, 2016
Jun 21, 2016 at 6:08 PM UTC
Dwindle-Melt-Dissolve
Lips of the world lost
Unsolved
Evanesce bring to life
Live-Love- Dance
Prayers>> of >the> Providence
Lips deep--- tears-seeded
Life unfolds
Loved ones need to be hold
World spins High flower
Chin
Are we all connected within?
Anxiety on the rise
Weaken flower transforms to begin
Sun lips gladiolus
Melody of Mozart- Amadeus
Honeysuckle- Rose lips
Healing rain European trips
Winding minds of stairs
They lost the flowers
Bad politics and affairs
I saw the light*
Candle-lips star* bright
Lips got healed God sent
Don't dwell on life the big rent
Aug 15, 2021
Aug 15, 2021 at 12:12 PM UTC
August is wonderful month for star gazing.
Camellias, dauphin Oise and renuculars in full bloom this August
How much sun does my August Moon flowers needs;
the more sun, the more golden the texture shine on through
Here came the brides, marching down the aisles with theirs fathers
While, the theme of Goldenrod, Sunflower yellow, Saffron and Dandelion takes center stage,
August is a month that stands its own merit
an excellent month for bird migration, but not for illegal immigrants
August's birth flower is gladiolus, its comes with, calm, integrity, and infatuation
August is the wayward month no less.
Star gazing at its best
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 9:41 AM UTC
Red & blue sage in remembrance of you
Gladiolus, carnations-
pink poppies too.
While foxglove protects
With larkspur and flax,
The windflowers wilt but always grow back.
White lilies for hope
And forget-me-nots true,
an innocence captured in their ambiguous blue.
Griefs Pink and white orchids,
Support’s crimson rose-
the healing of hyacinth,
flowers & prose.
Apr 8, 2022
Apr 8, 2022 at 3:15 PM UTC
There she was, her eyes bright and shining buried in her rosy complexion of which was indecently shown through the discharge of the temperate winds longing like lost military men to taste a woman's sweet words once again. She held in her delicate fingers, thin and unsteady, a chain of sweet nothings that trailed after her scrupulous footstep as if solely existing for the chance to be in her superlative presence. Gladiolus, Poppies, Aster, Delphinium, Orchid, Peony all linked together in a perfect array of scent and color reflecting the consummate image of the girl that led them. The world accompanied her to a cliff looking down on a cold river, the scene smothered with the orange glow of sunset and the sky clear of all but the unwavering flap and call of the birds who claimed it as their own immovable kingdom. She walked to the edge of the land and twisted around, her heels grazing the edge of everything and nothing; life and death; to fall and to walk. Slowly she tipped and her gaze caught mine. I cried out in my head Ophelia, but nothing came to my lips, cold and thin. As she hit the icy drink she smiled, her flowers cast above her about to disappear forever along with all other sweetness worth living for in Denmark.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 9:50 PM UTC
I’m unevenly placed, skewed,
Strewn as if across a battlefield of green arching upwards
Into a firmament no kinder than the dirt below.
Glory; glory, triumph, and victory
Gallop through the head of the sweat-glossed, sandal-clad
With the fervor of an enjoined nation
Working
As
One.
What can be defined as the perfect cause?
What can be defined as just too much loss?
Nothing, no one, withstands the majesty
Of a waving, battle-torn flag, resting upon
The crest of a hill with grace gracing
Every
Single
Rip.
I can glaze over the different shades of red
That permeate the legacy we will all
Come to know as legend, as the workings of but
A tale, in some lands. Yet I know the secret, the wish
Hidden behind the untouched folds, the proud wishes
Between each enjoined thread, the ideals of a
Solitary people who with me, wish for a better
World
For
All.
One can only hope
We will be remembered.
Jan 13, 2017
Jan 13, 2017 at 8:58 AM UTC
I've never gotten flowers, not much to say
In love once, still can't beg to stay
I've never gotten flowers, but oh.. to dream of lilies
How the return of happiness will ever feel?
"Hold onto your baby breaths,"
They never given me any
All I ever wanted was a tulip
The same way my father use to gift my mother
Smiling while I hide behind him excitingly
Dreaming of my once upon a dream as snowdrops grow
Sunflowers, how beautiful they could be
Joyfully restoring oxygen into my lungs
You never knew cause roses are the trend
Honestly, you never asked
Left, right you're gone
Not a rose in graved, they're all out of sight
Its alright I'll get gladiolus
Swimming in the lilies valley one day
Memory, Not a Flower girl
By:Zoulaikha
Sep 26, 2023
Sep 26, 2023 at 1:37 PM UTC
Beautiful Water
Sweet Spring of Life
You are more than enough as Thee
Each moment I touch
and retouch your beginning
Willingness to Peace
A moment in time
Shared
Memory
Trickling thru
An orchards flare
Of
Apples picked
Macintosh then
First Learnings
Of the Truth
Gladiolus on the Side
Beauty Freed for
A Mothers Love
Ladder
From
Sustenance
To Grace
Something Sweeter Now
Maple Syrup
Tapped
by Wooded Gate
Johnny
A Real Hero
Changed the World
Kindly
And with Love
One Thought
His Pure expression
Always the Same
Gods Good
Life
Guitar String
For the Earth
His Arrow
Split the Heart in Two
An Apple
Felled
To the Ground
Witness
To a World UNComing
Mournful Courage
Put Away
A soldiers
Duty
Paid
Prince
of
Brotherhood
St James
You Now
Are Made
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 7:35 PM UTC
I know that she's hurting inside,
I know how much it's killing her,
but she didn't show it.
She continue to held her head up high,
and face 'em straight.
She was strong enough to keep it in
until
no one was around to see her fallen tears.
{ E.I }
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 8:04 AM UTC
10 feet below the water’s surface and losing breath. A hundred pink gladiolus flowers float in the water above me. I see the sun’s rays burst through the edges of the petals to me. Grasping the sun’s rays to pull myself to the surface, I use the light as a ladder. I reach the surface and grap the pink gladiolus flowers. They turn into atropa belladonna in my cut up hands, the sun hurts me and Atropos threatens to cut my string. I retreat and go 11 feet under the water’s surface. I stay there and I lose breath, my lungs feel as if they’re going to collapse and just as I was going to close my eyes for good a single pink gladiolus gently sinks through the water past me. I watch it sink, it goes down past me and keeps sinking. I keep my eyes on it until it finally disappears into the darkness. I look up and I see hundreds of pink gladiolus flowers sinking in the water. The beautiful sight gives me hope. I grab flowers and pull myself up to the surface. I fly up out of the water and Atropos looks me in my eyes. I have one chance to change the goddess’s mind. I wrap my arms around her and she gently puts away her scissors. She knows that I’m worthy of a new fate so she sends me to a forest filled with gladiolus flowers and weeping willows. I know that I will someday see her again so I will make the most of the time that she gave me for now until we finally reunite.
END
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 2:44 PM UTC
We run from the downpour
to the safety of the car
a warm glow of paper cups
steam rising from their mouths
now silenced by water
I say,
“I hope he likes his hot chocolate
with a shot of rain"
You respond with a laugh;
Small and fleeting
and sincere.
Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 3:34 PM UTC
i remember
(a pluchritudinal memory)
when almost so effortlessly
our lives lied to us most indefinitely
in the hours that return with
lashes and chains—
as in clothes heavy soldered
to washlines, the waft in the air is as familiar as the rain cooling
the blades of grass you speak of,
something the dark only conjures
waiting at the brink of my unclosed retina.
i know all of these well-placed memories
like furniture you have arranged
under the hollow hands of the home.
yet barely even so, a fond memory of—
the daedalus outside or the cut
gladiolus, plucked out of the moseying hour's vicious wingtip.
we do not always die like this.
when all our dying whispers are thrusted
underneath mouths of stone,
when all of our wishes hold a flame
paler than a vague rekindling of the dead.
sometimes promised something an ellipsis would half-ponder and postpone
in word's mid-birth.
the raging moon had waned.
all the windows shunned — hermetic,
air outside potent, leaving all books
half-read yet fully opened.
the children hide behind thin shades
of roses,
i can hear the steely grit of the flesh
pared from the bone as my mother
guillotines with kitchenware
we do not always die instantaneously.
most of our ways to go leave
demarcations on soul — something so easily displaced, doubled array of its arrival into half-wakefulness.
something only a last prayer thumbed
down to the last bead
and we cannot cry anymore.
night's flumine seeks to rebuild the wound undone delicately
leaving my breath and betraying my body.
we somehow always die like this.
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 8:21 AM UTC
Blooming in the heart of the sky
Gentle and free
Like a vibrant butterfly
You're a gladiolus
Supreme in it's strength
And you're so beautiful
You're heaven sent
You're gracious
A melanin queen
Your smile is like diamonds
At the bottom of a clear stream
You are the moon and the sun
Your laughter is infectious
And your presence feels like a warm embrace
You have an aura so luminous
It brightens up my world on my cloudiest days
Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 10:43 PM UTC
I would have to cling to impenetrable, eternal lights as an eternally hopeful little child so that the many thorn-offs would not reach me! Addicted to snuggling up to Infinity and believing in the healing magic of roe deer, that there may be another way out! The hidden Existant casts light out of the fog and the fingertip blade gap of gladiolus hurts the cups of my heart! Many times his hooded mists close to Being, and the Well of Nothing demands more thirstily! As a volatile butterfly, joy sins with someone else! Shelter should already be found for the volatile moment!
Fire-eyed cheap-soul chirping is the computing compromise! Falling stars are still running in the trajectory of my life, as a richly fertile stream, my crater tears immediately flood! I deliberately hide my smile to the Beloved who can still comfort me! - I feel like in the junk market of emotions, like petty faithful bustles and “some” can come up again at any time! I would still cling to the cooling beauties of the Universe! I listen to the confused drum beats of my heart in my whispering ears; I always understand the impending danger!
Suicide leading to suicide should not be considered if unresolved troubles are towering over us! "I should believe in myself that cherishing, friendly hands always reach out to me, and Honesty can surely take it for granted!" A single piece of stone The law of my being is often unable to shout, though many times it would be good to shout out loud so that others can understand listening to rocks can be melodic even from the blood throbbing in us! False or hostile to the human Word, meaningless envy nest in still-budded gazes and rapes daily
Mar 19, 2021
Mar 19, 2021 at 3:11 AM UTC
is not the howl of a canine,
or the gesticulation of a hand
alone, which if left unspoken to,
ceases to make meaning. what we
said is what shapes our mouth,
and what we mean curdles
the body of who hears it:
hurting which is another word
for weakness, and bravery which
is a transmutation of lout, this rigmarole
is far nothing but a ***** if you wish
to call it that, or perhaps a gladiolus,
a scimitar, a punched daguerreotype,
a subliminal stereo, a ludicrous cacophony.
and if there is much conspiracy to say that
the rind of words is tensely, the appropriation
of sound, then it shall be that the song
I sing, is for the world to own, unmindful
of its hapless victim. and because trees are
brindled, thatched to the Earth, reaching
for the desolate sky, it is the distance in between
where our words are, trying to make
ends meet.
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 9:21 PM UTC
Cigarettes after cigarettes after cigarettes ,
Barrels of nicotines
Sometimes green flowers with harsh smoke veil ,
Her tunnel she mazed with mist of darkness ,
Weaving the oblivion never knew where it leads ,
How it ends ,
She kept practising over and over again .
His voice was cold ,
Yet heavy and bold ,
Paving the dim yellow lights
He drilled the night's routine ,
Chased the bewildered dream ,
Like a wind and unseen ,
Reached the volcano's end ,
He saw her glistening eyes ,
No matter how dark the shade was ,
How in distant it was ,
Still shined like the silver queen of the sun ,
In her nest , panting ,
uncanny was her dance beat ,
Euphoric ideas enthralled by his sight ,
Roared in her veins ,
Like a blue bird she wanted to fly away ,
Like a humming bird she was crooning to his breath ,
A gorgeous gladiolus that she smelled ,
Quivered her toes from beneath the planet .
Between the bars two glances were met .
©
Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 1:15 PM UTC
I would have to cling to impenetrable, eternal lights as an eternally hopeful little child so that the many thorn-offs would not reach me! Addicted to snuggling up to Infinity and believing in the healing magic of roe deer, that there may be another way out! The hidden Existant casts light out of the fog and the fingertip blade gap of gladiolus hurts the cups of my heart! Many times his hooded mists close to Being, and the Well of Nothing demands more thirstily! As a volatile butterfly, joy sins with someone else! Shelter should already be found for the volatile moment!
Fire-eyed cheap-soul chirping is the computing compromise! Falling stars are still running in the trajectory of my life, as a richly fertile stream, my crater tears immediately flood! I deliberately hide my smile to the Beloved who can still comfort me! - I feel like in the junk market of emotions, like petty faithful bustles and “some” can come up again at any time! I would still cling to the cooling beauties of the Universe! I listen to the confused drum beats of my heart in my whispering ears; I always understand the impending danger!
Suicide leading to suicide should not be considered if unresolved troubles are towering over us! "I should believe in myself that cherishing, friendly hands always reach out to me, and Honesty can surely take it for granted!" A single piece of stone The law of my being is often unable to shout, though many times it would be good to shout out loud so that others can understand listening to rocks can be melodic even from the blood throbbing in us! False or hostile to the human Word, meaningless envy nest in still-budded gazes and rapes daily
Jan 29, 2021
Jan 29, 2021 at 3:20 AM UTC
in my heart's deserted street—
on the road and the cornucopia
of twists, and the unmindful turn:
surrounded by white-bellied,
inward-breaking, bright-boned creatures
as oblivion falls flat on the cage
rimmed with the glint of a scene's
surrounding peril.
what to make of it, now that i am alone?
the gladiolus is cut and my heart
sings winterward.
i can paint now with blood—
naked boys eaten by serpents,
a home fractured in the middle
of flightlessness. the sunlight,
the lie, the feigned sublimation of moon,
the audible death of star, felled on the floor, laughing, squirming insanely
on a waving line, water not warm enough
to bathe in, this serious multitudinously-blooded sea where i find
nobody at all.
cutting the silence,
bleeding the noise,
emptying the horizons,
filling only the streets,
but never myself.
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 9:20 PM UTC
The fiction of people’s pessimistic statements towards life seed and grow rainforests in my head. Breaking my skull so that the green may spread throughout my dirt shell. Nonfiction, as in reality, blooms into pink gladiolus flowers. The reality is that people’s thoughts can either work as an anchor or as an open sail. Whether those thoughts are anchors or are open sails is completely up to the thinkers, themselves.
END
Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 10:15 AM UTC
I sit in the field
Where once myriads of gladiolus grew
Now—
There’s nothing but a heap of dried up grass here
In this barren space,
This isolated being.
Reckoning—
A shadow with a bone jaw
Gaps wide at me,
Baring it’s teeth.
Last of my breath
He draws me
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 12:49 PM UTC
That was the wind knocking on my door,
passing on the message you won’t be round no more.
The whirlwind lifted me up off my feet
and landed me in the middle of the rain and the sleet.
You said you ain’t gonna be my girl no more,
but that wind just keeps on knocking on my door.
That was a cloud passing by over my head,
sending me a message that to you I’m as good as dead.
It took my light and left me with this shadow
clinging onto my soul and blocking my view of the show.
You told me I was to you as good as dead,
but that cloud just keeps on passing by over my head.
That was a bird whispering in my ear,
that everything will be okay if I cast off the fear.
She sings in my dreams and gives me solace
and sits in my caged heart behind my gladiolus.
You said I will be okay if I cast off the fear,
but that bird just keeps on whispering in my ear.
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 2:28 PM UTC
A gray blurry guy
In another person's film
That guy casually passing by
On the protagonist's screen
Got no dialogues
Only seen on the prologue
The shepherd's purse in the garden
Unremarkable; easily forgotten
The broken mug on shelf
Filled with flaws of varying depths
The ghost of the forgotten past
An unidentified abstract
Of nightmares, memories, and sands
But dear, that is his tale
Why see things this way?
Different trains, different rails
You are not made on the same recipe
That gray guy on his story might be you
But you have your own coffee to brew
You are the main character of your scenario
A Gladiolus in it's bloom
A resolute gladiatior with thousand scars
Reminder of a survivor when carved
Those cracks you can't expose
Let's fill it with golds
Mend it with the sun's dew and the moon's kiss
Still pretty even with the bruises
The phantom of a gleaming future
An unidentified abstract
Of daydreams, wishes, and stardusts
Reader Reader on my wall
Who's the fairest of them all?
Dear, it's the hero of every movie
the protagonist of every story
the leading actor of every film
the adventurer of every tale
It's him
It's her
It's them
And
It's you
You are seen
You are known
We all are
Jul 15, 2021
Jul 15, 2021 at 10:27 AM UTC