"plumeria" poems
Sitting alone in my backyard
Where the plumeria tree stands
Spreading its fragrance all over
Collecting the white-yellowish flowers
Dispersed on the wet dark brown soil
Earth worms pop out their heads
Seeing the beautiful me, In my
Earrings and necklace of plumeria flowers
Hissing of a snake from behind
Crawling on the branches like a lustful man
Being attracted to the incense of the flowers
Presenting him a garland of blossom
The snake was thankful with a smile
Had some conversations with tiny sparrows
Happily spend some peaceful time
Inhaling the aura of the beautiful flowers
Leaning to the tree closing my eyes
Lost in my world of fairy tale dreams !
Jul 5, 2016
Jul 5, 2016 at 9:42 AM UTC
How the rains came
wild blue in waterfall tears
magenta orchid clouds to wear
Oh, the tropical winds
leeward, an ocean blowing in
plumeria flower waves
a blissful turquoise bay
lay of fragrant floral sands
warm breeze to carry
this wild ocean breadth
far and off to foreign lands
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 9:52 AM UTC
“She who has infused every minute of my day,
Hastens through titillating my endorphins.
Absconded hiding within myself,
As blue crystals glaring teeter in the sea,
As we sanction the reticence of ardor,
While the sea eradicates its perennial effigy,
As infinite cascades eradicate beneath us,
As the water stride procures to the sandy shore,
Where the waves shatter on unsettled rocks,
As once again the clear light bursts as sun sets,
Enmeshed in a fabric of palpable vibrant colors,
Portrayed as that of a burlesque plumeria of infinites,
The plumeria burst of aureoles immortal love,
Unyielding its pedals as the devouring sea rotates,
Will ephemeral demise procure in the deep blue sea?
Over its blue pedaled face an astringent frown,
We have embarked on a promenade of love my dear,
I now stand before you no longer with emptiness,
Only perennial affection that you are mine and I yours,
In our Aureoles of Plumeria”
By AG 03/10/2018 ©
Apr 10, 2018
Apr 10, 2018 at 6:52 PM UTC
Standing alone in the courtyard, there she stands swaying in the humid breeze, a yard in the open she is a humble to fragrant Plumeria trees. Oh how I loved the wind before he took you from me, tell me it was all false and stay awhile is my only plea.
You did a swirl and you twirled in white and yellow, only to turn me into a sad old fellow!
Well I’ve waited for twenty years my love, clinging to your hopeless memory, of how there was a day that came where you couldn’t remember me.
Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 1:04 PM UTC
I wanna run to you in an airport
Like they do in 90s romance movies
Because I miss you and
I’ve been away from home for two years
I want to sit on the beach and explain the landscape that
You know better than I do
In the language it was originally loved in, that
You never bothered to learn
Why would you?
You dip your feet shallowly
Into the water instead of dunking yourself
Like I do, down up down up down
Because you’ll be back tomorrow
And I’ll spend fractions of me
Waiting for a call or a text
For 20 bucks to send you
To breathe plumeria-scented air
From the oil on the skin of your neck
For a picture of the freckles on the webbing
between your index and thumb, and the ring
That I bought you before I left so that in the pictures
you post with your white boyfriend
I’m there on your finger
So when he’s teaching you the ‘local’ lifestyle
I’m there on your finger
So when you island hop for a surfing class
You keep me on your finger, where I can feel the waves.
I want to come home but I can’t, not before
I buy you a new ring, out here
in the empty expanse of a Where’s Waldo puzzle
It has to be
Something expensive, something durable
That won’t tarnish in the island
humidity, something that your
San-Francisco friends will ooh and ahh at
Because I want to see you wearing it when I get home.
I’ve been away from home for fifteen years
I return in my dreams, but the soil
doesn’t feel right, and the love isn’t how
my mother’s father’s father described it
At the beach, lots of people swim, but no one else
Keeps their head under and lets the water breathe life into their hair.
Lets the water into their mouth, chokes, then does it again.
But I like the way you
Dipped your feet in when you watched me
Leave, on a boat chasing Troy
Venus my northern star
As I enter the storm
My boat floats through the violence,
against Poseidon’s abundant will
because my sail made up of duct-taped exam scores
And half-organized sermons
Is mightier than any of his sons
I’ve been away since 700 BCE
But you’ll still know me when I come home
Dec 19, 2024
Dec 19, 2024 at 1:03 AM UTC
#*Three baby birds
Sit closely together
On a baby branch
Amused by a pink blossom
The first baby bird curiously gazed
The second one caught off guard
A little smirk above its tender beak
The third bird looks in the direction opposite of all
Maybe it spotted the mother bird
With worms in her beak
Happy it looked on
Just ready to eat*#
Feb 9, 2022
Feb 9, 2022 at 10:34 AM UTC
tending the garden is a lot like cultivating the mind
maintaining balance, harmony and symbiosis
is essential for both flora and fauna
providing proper PH for the soil,
fertilizing and feeding each plant
with the right kind of food
mindful irrigation, going with the flow
plenty of bustling sunshine
as well as periods of deep shade and contemplation
and lets not forget those blessed weeds
only takes a good spring rain
to turn your botanical oasis into a
wild and woolly patch of snarling jungle animals
chattering monkeys swinging from
rampant running vines
tenacious elephants stomping over
shrinking african violets
hungry, growling lions stalking the marigolds
take a deep breath, get centered try not to curse them
after all, it has been said that one man's ****
is another man's flower
gently I tug the miscreant roots
and regain my composure
realizing, they too, have a place in the Cosmic
scheme of things
the brass Buddha smiling between
the hawaiian plumeria and ruffled hot pink hibiscus
winks at me
as I evenly, attentively, consciously align and establish
stepping stones on the Middle path
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 12:44 PM UTC
I want to become a diver
like the scuba guys in the Thai cave
risking death to save life,
going deeper into convoluted passages
of darkness to pull life from it.
I want to become a heart surgeon
transplanting energizing mitochondria
into babies’ dying hearts
to revive and save damaged cells.
Oh to receive from the gods of creativity
an infusion of fresh energy
into this old body
and renew flagging cells
with a flowering fragrance
as sweet and unique as Plumeria!
May this diving deeper
be as fruitful now as it has been
in the decisive moments
I was able to conquer pride and self
to reach out to others
whose spirits had frowns
whose life energy was down.
I know: thinking, reading and writing
are not quite enough to reach and taste
the fruits of angels.
Like the classic tension
between “faith and works”
“deeper” means a marriage
of information and application
to get transformation.
And so these moments of writing poems
and diving deeper, rising higher
for the creative spirit
are not divorced
from kindness and reaching out
in friendship, intimacy, and love,
from taking time and spending energy
beyond these meditative walls
embracing life where it calls.
I am a diver and a surgeon
a spark striker, a flame keeper
always desiring
to move
deeper, deeper, deeper.
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 9:12 AM UTC
i promise i can speak
but the way your lips
turn up into a perfect shape
seek to prove me otherwise
its not the way you love me
or how much better i am because of you
but the wonderful picture we would paint
if you did--
and you could,
if you'd only trust me,
my truest, because i've never
wished more that i weren't
a twig of Violet,
but a tall Plumeria
with a strong stem
that weakens only for you
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 5:52 PM UTC
*Courtyard blessed with snake Gods
Under the large plumeria tree
With its yellowish white flowers
Sitting there in the world of my imagination
Conversing with the disparate designed snakes
Came to visit their King with Queen God
King was in golden colour with his head high
Queen in her attic of red with black lines
Wearing garlands of corn marigold flowers
Offerings made by devotees
Tender coconut, turmeric powder,
Rice pudding with rice cake
Blessing them pleased with their devotion
Turned towards me to convey their heartfelt joy
In furtherance of visiting their
kingdom with respect to nature
Giving them a space with devotion in this nasty world*
Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 3:51 AM UTC
not too old
only slightly worn
smells of plumeria
so why am I so uncomfortable in it?
Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 8:48 AM UTC
*Walls painted with mosses
Snails shifting lento
Towards their new house
Spreading fragrance
Of muddy scent
Waving gooseberry leaves
Begetting chilly breeze
Toppling plumeria flowers
Embellishing landscape
Creepers hugging trees
With craving squirm
Squirrels squealing secrets
Throughout branches
White butterflies fluttering
To kiss ravishing flowers
Lustrous sun getting ready
Fabricating exuberance
Awakening moody chums!*
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 1:32 AM UTC
Umpteen years of gentle love,
touching of souls, melting hearts.
Burnt lava nd acid too.
Two of us as one, in a random epoch of time.
Is God ordained or a throw of dice?
A matter of deep speculation is.
Look at this humble Plumeria, Sweet Love,
a hardy plant it is,
It's lived through a couple of droughts,
two leaves still shiny,
look forlorn on its gnarled trunk,
for It's tiny buds long burned by heat,
refuse to sprout any further greens.
A hope in its will to live,
and flower once every year.
What better a symbol of our connect than
this mute brute of a shrub.
I give this plant to thee my dear,
take good care of it,
water it and watch it live,
for its life is a symbol of our love..
Do not worry too, if it dies, for its only a glyph..
I'll plant another tree for you,
This time a mango,
which will grow big and olive under your tender hands..
to again ikonize a new phase..
One that gives fruit and shade,
to generations of birds and bees,
us in our old age,
and an abode to our Haunted Undead Souls!
Mar 9, 2017
Mar 9, 2017 at 7:42 AM UTC
Haze scatters blue light on a planet.
Frought women, livid, made into peonies by Aphrodites that caught their men flirting and blamed the women, flushed red.
Frought women, livid, chrysanthemums, dimmed until the end of the season, exchanged and retained like property.
Blue women enter along the sides of her red Torii gates,
belayed, branded and belled,
a plangent sound.
By candles, colored lights and dried flowers,
she’s sitting inside on a concrete floor,
punctures and ruin burnished with paper,
boiling burnt lime from lime mortar.
Glass ***** on the ceiling,
she moves the beads of a Palestinian glass bead bracelet she holds in her hands.
She bends light to make shadows against thin wooden slats curved along the wall
and straight across the ceiling.
A metier, she invents tinctures,
juniper berries and cotton *****
Loamy soil in the center of the room,
a hawthorn tree stands alone,
a gateway for fairies,
large stones at the base protecting,
its branches a barrier.
Its leaves and shoots make bread and cheese.
Its berries, red skin and yellow flesh, make jam.
Green bamboo stakes for the peonies when they whither from the weight of their petals
and lime in the soil,
she adds wood chips to the burnt lime in the kiln,
unrolled paper, spools, and wire hanging.
Wood prayer beads connect her to the earth;
the tassels on the end of the beads connect her to spirit, to higher truth.
Minerals, marine mud and warm basins of seawater on a flower covered desk,
she adds slaked lime to the burnt lime and wood chips.
The lime converts to paper,
trauma victims speak,
light through butterfly wings.
She’s plumeria with curved petals, thick, holding water.
Apr 26, 2021
Apr 26, 2021 at 2:48 PM UTC
I want to grow a plumeria plant
right outside my window
I want it to blossom and to thrive
to look at the beautiful flowers and sigh
Yet I am afraid I will **** it
since I have always had the opposite of a green thumb
I want to grow a plumeria plant
right outside my window
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 3:24 PM UTC
The golden orb of sunrise as it breaks the horizon....
The new fragile sprouts on my plumeria...
The fuzzy baby peaches growing. ..
The sweltering heat of the day...
I think of you.....
As I shower with water beading off of me...
As I pass places we once were...
Another song on the radio. ..
As I make plans for the day...
I think of you....
The sunlight in my grey eyes...
The wind in my hair....
The untaken path...
The rustle of leaves....
I think of you....
The purpling sky...
The fiery setting sun....
The blackest nights....
Under a smattering of a million sparkling stars...
I think of you....
I share these with you in unspoken thoughts....
I ache for you in everything that I do...
The simplest of joys...
Unable to be....
I think of you.....
E.J.M.
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 8:44 AM UTC
Far into the door
one glass of hope sits quietly
in colors uncertain
his sky is drawn
Dusty its face
of streams and butterflies
a smell of rose and plumeria
galloping in love is she
So two the sweets pair
buried under a hallow escape
the sheer grabbing of desire
oosing from their lips
That shape a heart
this place in pink
a dunkin donut
that should have been red.
Feb 14, 2019
Feb 14, 2019 at 1:14 PM UTC
blooms very fragrant
blooms used on Hawaiian leis
plumeria blooms
Jun 28, 2019
Jun 28, 2019 at 10:15 PM UTC
Flowers of love grow from desolate dirt
The petals bring joy while the thorns impart hurt
Our seeds have been sown in many a plot
Past oceans and valleys,
some watered,
some not
Through seasons of bliss and chapters of pain
Your hold on my heart steadfastly remains
When I reminisce through memory’s fields
A precious bouquet awaits unconcealed
I wish you could see the colors and shades
And walk hand in hand through my memory’s glades
I hope in your mind our garden is lush
My sweet plumeria, I love you so much
Sep 19, 2022
Sep 19, 2022 at 5:54 PM UTC
Plumeria in my hair
I followed footsteps of the Sun
to the Sea
I hear Krishna's conch
Om
Om
Om
He is calling me
Apr 29, 2020
Apr 29, 2020 at 6:57 PM UTC
we are
the trickle
of life's’ struggles
*
eased
by the floating plumeria
of mankind's
*
understanding
Jon Von Erb
6/2020
Jun 22, 2020
Jun 22, 2020 at 4:54 PM UTC