"lilypad" poems
O
O
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○○O
O
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koi
circle
endlessly
beneath the
silver surface
and blue glass
of a lilypad pond. their
eyes bulging gills gulping
the tiny bubbles on the
the water ****
they dart under
the pink lilies
like orange
ghosts or
pale
wraiths
they go round
and round in the
pond no bigger than
a golden thimble
longing for the sea.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 3:25 AM UTC
Two orchid petals glisten gingerly,
In the ripples of the moving pond
Two stars blaze passionately,
In the sky's veiled moonlight
Two butterflies flutter an auburn dream,
On the lilypad's emerald contrast
And two eyes radiate life and love,
As her cheekbones flush deep scarlet, and her smile steals my breathe.
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 4:16 AM UTC
i am the man that you don't need anymore
just another thing you left behind
in an empty house
i'm still feeling vulnerable
like the forgotten iron with the burnt
face frazzled cord
& i still crave the precious gem
of your soul miserably
because i am a fool
or a hummingbird addicted
to sugar water icicles
i wanted to know where you came from
because my heart wanted to sing to you
like a nervous chickadee
through the bubbly white noise
& champagne static
of the bar where we first met
i wanted to know what you see when you look up
through the state of grace that you live in
if it's only the sun
or 40,000 angels buried
in dust & clouds
so i could write it down
or paint it on a stretched tight canvas
& show you my work
i still want to know where you run to
when the rain comes down
in sheets & your hair
kisses dark streaks
onto your cotton shirt
the moon stays up late to show me
how far down i am in the galaxy
of freckles dusted across your shoulders
your hair is a fiery tangle of comet tails
escaping in knots from my wet fingers
your body is a mystical
collection of dark matter
screaming blue eyes &
all i ever wanted was
to be destroyed by the
cyanide on your lips
i filled the bathtub with purple swan orchids &
sprawled out on the opulent karastan rug
like a lame duck waiting on a lilypad
for your footsteps & fingers to astonish me with
dizzy incandescence
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 11:18 AM UTC
Oh, to feel like the only frog
in a land of princes
only miserable crickets and silence for company
few can understand true love unless, they live a life without hope of it's dawn
a visitor who lost her way,
has come across my secluded pond
a princess draped in the beautiful moonlit glow
unaware of her jeweled crown's beauty
she, who has made a prince out of me
Apr 25, 2018
Apr 25, 2018 at 9:10 PM UTC
On the surface of her eyes,
An algal pool in full bloom.
He wades in with his lashes, caught,
Stumbles around in the fishing nets
Soaked to the knee.
The place in which the oxygen should be
Is choked up now, perplexed, verdant,
A floating city of jealous skirts
Buffeted by a harsh March wind...
And further down, he has her pinned
Tracing paths in shallow waters
Close yet distant to seashell ears
Roughening the lilypad surface
With a single feather.
Through algal bloom, she wonders whether
He'll bother wading down to meet
The covert Atlantis beneath his feet.
Mar 18, 2019
Mar 18, 2019 at 5:06 PM UTC
I'm nothing more than a
little frog
sitting on a lilypad, listening to
hippie music
Apr 16, 2021
Apr 16, 2021 at 9:17 AM UTC
*"If only I were a toad,
I would be in heaven living on a lilypad."
© By Amanda D Shelton*
Apr 26, 2017
Apr 26, 2017 at 5:36 PM UTC
Spring sings as do the birds, high in the tall trees;
Spring knits fluffy white clouds, laying them in the blue sky gingerly;
Spring plants the seeds of the delicate flowers,
And when she’s sad, Spring’s tears water her trees.
Spring’s dazzling smile brings the radiant sun after showers,
Makes skies burst with vibrant colours;
Wanting to feel the crisp air of the morning,
Watch the dew on the flowers.
Spring places golden daffodil flower crowns in her hazel hair;
Spring’s voice is sweet honey, dripping from the hive;
Dancing in light meadows, frolicking in the forest, swimming in the river;
Spring spins the smooth silk of the clear lake water,
Rippling as the frogs leap from lilypad to lilypad.
Dining on the sweet apples and berries of her green trees,
The fresh oranges and strawberries;
Friends with the robins and butterflies,
Squirrels and deer, blue jays and swans.
Leaves every year,
Only to be back again for three months;
Taking the torch from Winter;
Making way for Summer, and Autumn;
Watching as they make their way,
And thrive, in their own moment;
An endless cycle, bound to Time.
Dec 21, 2019
Dec 21, 2019 at 4:03 PM UTC
Stumble clumsily
to that of which you think
is your sensei...
and ask
Why must I bow?
Take a break just take it down
a notch
Just watch me howl
at the moon
meditate let the sun
hit you in the face
Awaking you to a new
confusion
"better mean what you say
so you'll still be sitting when you
float away through hazy old
sayings displays testaments to progress
even frogs respect goggled honesty
from lilypad perspectives
directive flush and disconnect
from freshness"
May 8, 2019
May 8, 2019 at 9:58 AM UTC
how do you still make my heart
fester and swell and thump thumpity
jump to the brim of my throat
like a frog waiting to belch it’s
morning croak croakity—
choking back his thick, velvety shot of tarish espresso
knowing **** well there was nothing else in the world
he wanted to drink drinkity, let
sink sinkity into the lining of his stomach
to drown out the fluttering butterflies
of self afflicting lust. tsk.
and now i can’t even look your way,
without feeling like I took a step
steppity
LEPT too far, and i missed the lilypad
by an inch!
so of course, I splashed splashity
crashed into its chill— still surface,
distorting it and rippling my surroundings
still while being submerged
in this silly, suffocating. pond i call
delusion.
w.c.
Mar 1, 2020
Mar 1, 2020 at 8:00 PM UTC