"moonflowers" poems
Chirping crickets, unheard whispers and a lonely street light.
For a small town, it is such a typical night.
A sweet aroma blows with the breeze,
Perhaps, coming from one of the flowers or the trees.
Red flares and moonflowers blooming under the moonlight.
Adding more grace to this beautiful night.
Peace and serenity rule in this silence,
There is no noise, there is no violence.
There are just sounds of heartbeats, deep breaths and whispers.
Just sounds of heartbeats, deep breaths and whispers.
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 6:14 PM UTC
♡° ⊙ • ⊙ °♡
This place in my heart
There...
intimately aware
Deep tenderness
Imbued with
illuminessence
Moonflowers
opening in the fullness
of the Moon's light
Tonight
wrapped tight
threads of fear
Mama Pain
too great to fight
A ragged slice
overflowing
with hurt by
unkind words
thoughtlessly
thrown my way
Self inflicted pain
when I doubt my inherent
Knowledge and Strength
I know this part
of my heart
that holds
the wounded
collections of me
Keeping at bay
the ache that
lives within
The Blessing is
that Love
surrounds
Wraps around
with Healing light
Shining within
to Hold The Power
Allowing me respite
from the Sacred Locket
held in this place of
My Heart
♡° ⊙ • ⊙ °♡
Copyright © 2016. Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved
related poems...
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1483839/19/
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1465555/knick-knacks/
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1181941/it-hurts/
Apr 23, 2016
Apr 23, 2016 at 5:02 PM UTC
The grey hair on your head are moonflowers
The wrinkle on your forehead is wine
You need to stop worrying about your body
Cos when I look at you, you’re doing just fine
Stop weighing the things that aren’t important
Cos the valuable things cannot be weighed
Like the air that we breathe or our feelings
Or all the beautiful memories that we’ve made
And what about the magnificent souls inside us
The spirit that tragedies couldn’t break
You cannot weigh the experiences that made you
Like those moments we spent sitting by the lake
The scar on your cheek is a white butterfly
The fat on your tummy is snow
You need to stop worrying about your weight
Embrace yourself and let self doubt go
Apr 9, 2019
Apr 9, 2019 at 11:54 AM UTC
A fairy
who
only
flew
under
the fall
of night
met her
lover
under
the songs
of stars
in choirs
of light,
they rest
under
the petals
of a white
rose, her
lover asks,
“how can
I find words
to paint
beauty
with my
lips?”
to which
the fairy
says to
him,
“why do
you feel
the will
to open
your
lips?
all that
slumbers
awaken
when
the eyes
alone find
beauty”
they
gaze
upon the
white
lanterns
of the
dark
in a
ripple
of tides
in the
leaves,
the wings
of a bird
drifting
as a
dream in
awakening,
the fairy
rises with
her lover,
amongst the
moonflowers
and violets
above,
they flew
by lunar
guidance
towards
a field
of indigo
shades,
they descend
and softly
rest upon
the yellow
hearts,
the fairy
turns to
her lover,
and says,
“the
leaves
sing as
our own
tale, in
symphony
with the
delicate
branches
of our veins,
we lie
here and
hear the
music we
once had
sought to
hide, we
wished to
write about
it, rather,
we closed
our eyes,
for the ones,
as us, who
tightly
caged
their
words are
the ones
with the
deepest
wells of
feeling,
we are
living,
breathing
oceans,
clothed
in skin,
living tiny
moments
of poetry
every
hour,
don’t
you
see
this?”
to which
he says,
“I do,
and here
it comes,
the
golden
light”
it arrives,
in touch
of all that
it sees,
and the
fairy
whispers,
“let us
sleep,
and
return
as specks
of time”
they close
their eyes,
the bird
rests upon
a lone
tree,
the peace
of the
Idyll, in its
picturesque
eternity,
still prevails.
Apr 23, 2022
Apr 23, 2022 at 2:18 PM UTC
***Mmmmmm...
At dusk when the
moonflowers show their
faces to the silver stars.***
***Mmmmmm...
At dawn when the
monflowers hide their
faces from the golden sun.***
***Mmmmmm...
You will find me
under the shadow of the willows,
dreaming of him as he recites
verses of poetry to me.***
Mmmmmm....
Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 1:35 PM UTC
The evening star
at the sunset of Ramadan.
Mistake it not for a stellar
maybe an embroidery fell down
from the broidery in paradise!
What crosses in your mind, dear
fondly you look back
at this nick of time?
The twilight ambles down
with moonflowers on the hands
is about to wrap up
one more blessed day of Ramadan.
What have you come up with then
for the fasting person on your hand?
What a broad array
you stole the last show of the day!
Singing nightingales keeps musing
deeps down the rose in low light.
The first light shines out
amidst the dawn chorus.
What does it miss out
the nightingales disappears
in broad daylight.
Have you too leave the scene
with the rose dews
only to pour it off the honeyed petals
into the fasting person's glass?
So cool it tastes a sip of water
at the Iftar!
Apr 15, 2022
Apr 15, 2022 at 1:25 AM UTC
Fairy blossoms
climb through my dreams
cascading over moonlight
and statuesque fountains
purple parachutes
pirouette across the
gloaming
in a twinkle
the laughter of evening
bells
and swirling petticoats
caper through the garden
till dawn
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 1:48 AM UTC
Sunflowers
Wild Daisies
Reaching high
Tall above
The Abandoned
Victory Garden
Once
Abundant
Filling baskets to
Overflow
Enough for all to share
Allowing our love to show
Wild Flowers now dwell
Defiantly
Winding, twisting their way thru
Able to reach great heights
Tall overgrown weeds
That live there too
The garden
A snapshot
of our family's
Fractured Love..
No more bounty here
Only rouge Sunflowers and
Moonflowers, tall Thistles and Weeds.
Morning Glories have risin up
In full display of
their glorious, radiant colors
No intention to Leave. CMF 8/2014
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 3:13 AM UTC
Baby's breath kisses the merlot tide of disease,
A brindled sea holds the white orchid of blanched dittany's.
Moonflowers scintillate with each cradle of dusk,
While Stars marl the sky, veiling over in cosmic musk.
During quietude, swans tread the ichor in a pearlesque flotilla,
The poison ripples beneath them as they thread between silk lilies and ivory scilla.
The gore strewn water continues to fester with pulsating, ripe, bile,
Despite all, the huddle of infancy will remain ever fertile.
Dec 14, 2024
Dec 14, 2024 at 9:31 AM UTC
you are
an unimaginable light,
the tongue I swallow
and the surge of you is swallowed down
and the white hands come, unfurl
come, little light to the greater whiteness
how I love you, how I have felt your fire
beaming uncontrollably in my ribcage
blossoming and swelling in my throat:
you are a thousand white moonflowers
I have to bite ****** my own lips to keep down.
and to be filled with your white light is
to shudder, like in a lover's embrace,
and you, God, is the name spat out,
a thousand thousand years in the making
and a thousand flowers swallowed down,
and how can I keep your glory closed in
when you wind me into a ball of light?
oh, but I am sick, I could curl up and die,
so strong and so violent is your love
and shivers race and tremble bright
down my spinal cord;
rip out my spinal cord, HaShem
and twist it in a polished white
spiked circle:
the beauty of a snake
devouring herhisits own tail.
Adonai, Adonai, light of our life
I swallow your beauty down.
May 20, 2013
May 20, 2013 at 2:09 AM UTC
The fence
Is crowned
With a royal row
Of violet Morning Glories
That cater to a discriminating clientele
Of hummingbirds and bees
While the daylight-shy Moonflower
Opens only at night
For moths.
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 8:28 PM UTC
Some are Water Lilies
Whose roots grow deep in mud
Some are Aloes blooming red
With healing in their bud
Some are Cala Lilies
With blossoms white as snow
Some are florid Orchids
Which in a hothouse grow
Some Lily of the Valley
Exquisite unadorned
Some are Cactus Roses
Be careful of the thorns!
Some are Jack in the Pulpit
A rakish sort of fella
Some are Ladies Slippers
Awaiting Cinderella!
Some are lovely Roses
Which smell so very sweet
Some are Stink Cabbage
With a smell like rotting meat!
Moonflowers and Marigolds
Irises. Magnolia!
So many I can't think of
Many I haven't told ya...
There are Venus Fly Trap
Carnivorous cutie
The Lilaç grow in bushes
known for their great beauty
Daisies are so simple
Violets in there too
Tell me true
Look at leaf and petal folks
what flower type are YOU?
SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc
Catherine Jarvis
(C) 3/20/2016
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 11:02 PM UTC
Deep grit.
Fine, fine tacks.
Over-heated night.
My face, the light.
The glass points at me.
Musk and moonflowers.
I throb to the beat
Of a glycerol heat
That keeps coming
And going and coming.
Jul 19, 2010
Jul 19, 2010 at 10:59 AM UTC
Why can't we
dream forever?
no one will
hold back
our light,
our hearts
will glow
a love
greater
than tears,
forget who
you were
yesterday,
or what
Is beyond,
let us live
In each
other's
eyes for
now,
what the
world
shapes
of you
Is unreal,
only I
know
of the
reverie
bright
In your
eyes
when
your
heart
speaks
of what
the lips
cannot
create,
for some
moments
In life there
are no words,
only beauty,
where you
will find
truth,
In the
clarity of
this auroral
hour,
I see how
the existence
of you is
my gift,
In wander
within the
city, we find a
quiet place
to call
our own,
a small,
hidden
coffee
shop,
we are
deep in
conversation,
gently
opening
ourselves
when
we had
hidden
within
our souls
before,
to guard
them
from hurt,
we leave
the cafe
to venture
beyond,
finding
a place
where the
clouds are
hovering
over the
the city,
where the
heavens
mirror upon
your skin,
meeting
mine as you
hold me
closer,
we are
alone within
each other's worlds,
once disintegrated,
we are one again,
a supercluster
of a multitude
In galaxies, coming
together as
tides crashing
endlessly,
within each
wave,
I am with
you,
and my
heart
soars,
tearful
and
dreamy,
as the
ending of a
symphony,
the ephemeral
moment of
wonder,
only when,
our hands
touch,
the painting
of the scene
becomes
eternal,
time ceases
to exist
as the
film softly
plays,
I write
notes of
your words
engraved
In this heart
of mine,
the gentle
vulnerability
only you see,
as we lie
here together,
under the
dream of
your arms
I want to
sleep
under,
only you
and I,
wishbound
In the night,
where I will
remember
a warm cup
of coffee,
a smile
from you,
a gentle
dance of
stars,
these small
moments
I will treasure,
for they will
not fade
In the
slow,
beautiful
dance of
life,
where
we are
shining as
moonflowers,
forevermore
May 5, 2018
May 5, 2018 at 6:20 AM UTC
My giant, my giant, close your tired eyes.
Dance in your dream world, until the sunrise.
My giant, my giant, soften your breath.
Let the calm night fill your body with strength.
Even the ants, now lay in their beds.
Queen seals all gates, while slumber slowly spreads.
Watch falling leaf, dew droplet descend.
Hugging the meadow, as today comes to end.
Deep in your head, there's a lake full of tears.
From all joy, all sorrow, from all of your years.
But deep in your mind, there's a fortress of strafe.
That keeps the lake still, that keeps the lake safe.
Deep in your chest, is a prison of past.
Made out of promises, you couldn’t make last.
But deep in your heart, are gemstones and coal.
There all of your sinners, will go for parole.
My giant, my giant, the river still flows.
Bud wind that brings worries - no longer blows.
My giant, my giant, moonflowers bloom.
They'll watch over giants, here inside your room.
Birds do not bicker; the hill is at peace.
Willows are drowsy, all stars in one piece.
Fireflies flicker, like your tired eyes.
So set your stress free - just until the sunrise.
Mar 20, 2019
Mar 20, 2019 at 4:01 PM UTC
You picked me tulips and moonflowers.
You ran your hands through my hair.
You became in the habit of kissing me
sweetly from time to time,
opening up.
You held my hips and waist and back
with warm, strong hands.
You laughed in the mornings with me,
and we were both alive.
You visited me at work like a fleet fox.
You kept me safe and squeezed my ankles.
You sang old songs in the shower, ones that shouldn't have made me sad.
They do now.
You showed me the solitude of clandestine caves and hills and woods.
You revealed to me all the things I wanted to learn,
to help me distill and breathe my dreams,
to make magic.
You shared your whole home
and left me to your bed
and your secrecy.
You wanted road trips and Canada and bees.
I wanted those too.
You touched my knees in restaurants,
park benches,
early nights.
You gazed at the fish with me.
You made love like a prayer.
You let your hands fulfill your duties.
You lit up the moon on the sea.
You tasted like truth.
I know better now.
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 10:35 AM UTC
gaze at me and slight the moon
and all the stars in her company
then to your melody shall I attune
my love for you a symphony
come with me on silvered way
weave moonflowers in your hair
then to the bower we will stray
and long I’ll kiss you there
sit with me at basin’s bound
fount in your light agleam
with falling stars you are crowned
and in beauty reign supreme
give your love to me alone
though all may seek your favor
when they depart false lovers flown
Cupid’s grove we then will savor
cast your cares in fire’s heart
and dance with me till dawn
I’ll be your artist and you my art
our love goes ever on
Mar 26, 2019
Mar 26, 2019 at 11:58 PM UTC
For a time I let the wind decide,
Which seeds would land and where they'd hide.
A tangled garden, wild and free,
With blossoms grown for company.
I poured my water, bit by bit,
On thirsty roots that didn't fit,
And watched the sunbeams of my days
Bend to another's wilting ways.
oh I have found the thread of gold,
A map that only I can read.
The old story has grown cold,
I am the sower of my seed.
I'll plant my moonflowers and my ferns,
In soil that tenderly returns.
This garden is for me alone,
The wildest place I've ever known.
My nature is a running stream,
A crystal-clear and giving dream.
But now my banks are fortified,
No longer will my flow be dried
By fields that only drink and take,
To soothe their own unending ache.
My currents turn to greet the light,
To nurture what is true and right.
oh I have found the thread of gold,
A map that only I can read.
The old story has grown cold,
I am the sower of my seed.
I'll plant my moonflowers and my ferns,
In soil that tenderly returns.
This garden is for me alone,
The wildest place I've ever known.
My soul is not a borrowed cup,
To be filled up and poured right out.
It is a wellspring bubbling up,
With stars and whispers, chasing doubt.
The giving is a sacred grace,
For kindred gardens in their place.
oh I have found the thread of gold,
A map that only I can read.
The old story has grown cold,
I am the sower of my seed.
I'll plant my moonflowers and my ferns,
In soil that tenderly returns.
This garden is for me alone,
The wildest place I've ever known.
Sep 24, 2025
Sep 24, 2025 at 10:39 AM UTC
*in the twilight hour
moonflowers start to open
fireflies light the night*
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 12:38 PM UTC
It always starts with the looking of bouquets of dying flowers in the grocery store
they're always by the entrance and they're always wrapped in cellophane
Moody lilies, doe-eyed star daffodils, ******* lace-leaves
My grandfather's name was Hyacinth
It's symbolic somewhere, somehow
My family's name is buried neck deep in floral epithets
not that you would notice or care
There's an attraction to be named after beautiful things
From the side of my shoulder I hear
count your hands, they might be missing fingers
I look abrasively counting in rotund continuity
one two three four five
one two three four five
when I look behind me the speaker blasts John Mayer and I go home feeling nauseous
manic begonias, sultry sweet-tooth hydrangeas
you pick a rose and it stabs your finger so you set it on fire and take a picture of it, you call it art and the leaves wither
when I sit at my dinner table eating salmon
I cannot stop thinking about mercury poisoning
I lick the table salt off my hands
I wait for cardiac arrest but while that happens
there is that friend of a foe, that voice tickling the back of my ear with it's summer tongue
telling me, beckoning that the tap water I'm drinking is laced with LSD by the government and that I'm going to have a bad trip that I won't be able to get out of. I'll be stuck in that endless loop like a record player that keeps getting scratched by the needle and won't play anything but static noise now.
I go to bed biting my nails until they're raw and touching skin making sure that my hands are still my own
Moonflowers bloom at night and marigolds remind me of the sun
In the morning I dream of driving out to sea in a car that doesn't belong to me and wait for the coral to overtake my brain
When I wake up I do 20 laps around my house instead
Jan 4, 2018
Jan 4, 2018 at 11:00 PM UTC
The winter's sunlight is cold
while we reach out to grasp the strings of light
threaded through the sky.
We glance at the ashened clouds,
patterned with tree branches strangling each other
to seize the free birds.
Isn't it true that
moonflowers only bloom at night,
for they're afraid of the sun's touch?
Jan 12, 2018
Jan 12, 2018 at 7:10 PM UTC
there are so many who don't even have to try
born to be social butterflies
they've got friday night hearts
and party light eyes
crafted from pure sunshine
their words are glitter laced
and their smiles warm and inviting
born with swift tongues
and dancing feet
then there are those
born to the world of nature and art
they've got sunday morning hearts
and stars in their eyes
crafted from pure moonlight
their words laced with daisies and moonflowers
crooked smiles and rosy cheeks
born with clumsy tongues
and two left feet
- so, which are you? a soul crafted by the sun or the moon?
Jun 30, 2018
Jun 30, 2018 at 10:36 AM UTC
It's her soul
That's broken
We mist it.
Failing to save her.
He fell frustrated,
Trying to strangle callouses
On his hands.
Until moonflowers shone
The brightest black.
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 1:14 AM UTC
Ah,
The cyclical effect
Of generational trauma
The incessancy of his
Encroaching dark aura
He refuses to look past his umbra
He cannot perceive the pain he inflicts
I'm sure that
He doesn't even wallow - only wails
A piteous cry. A melodramatic howl
And he dares to sit there and wonder
Why no ties prevail?
He is an old man now
And still he believes
That the disease that was he,
Was nothing more than
An elaboration. A tease.
The last so-called apology he had given
I had somehow still accepted gladly
The girl, still clutching one last note
She slid it under the door
And hoped
Silly girl,
She should have known
That hope is dead
There was never any perception
No conception of his venom
Two decades later,
And still he wails
This woman does not feign indifference
Moonflowers abloom,
Defiant in their noctilucence
**** him and his darkness!
How dare his mere presence
Make my stems cower
I'd thought those memories
Had begun to wither
Fading, obscuring into evanescence
But he'd made my leaves quiver
And here I am again,
Trying to bloom
Again
Jul 19, 2025
Jul 19, 2025 at 12:20 AM UTC