Pink and lilac day
Where we stand on purple sand
Edged in pink waters

haiku by Dorothy Holmes
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Lilac Was Here

Lilac was here
And it’s been struck
I know I’m sure
For I can see the ashes in the ground
Can smell the fear of the flower
A deeply burnt silence can be heard
Of a thousand of little torches
That night has swallowed

Lilac was here
Fragrances are pure
Unspotted by a thunder or any other sound
Taken by the hands of some terrible power
To dwell unspoken in any single word
Through the seven landmark arches
That I have followed
In vain

Lilac was here
I know its mark

[...] Read more

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Trees dance like feathers
Fanning the lilac-gold sky
We weave fantacies

haiku by Dorothy Holmes (31 October 2007)
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277

you sent the slideshow
of the little white daisy
contented in the
forest where all the
other plants are confused

the oak wanting to be a lilac
the lilac wanting to be a pine
the pine wanting to be a daisy

you are the daisy
i suppose so

how can i ever believe you
when all the while
you have been dreaming
of wings to fly away?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Be Contented You Are Telling Me

you sent the slideshow
of the little white daisy
contented in the
forest where all the
other plants are confused

the oak wanting to be a lilac
the lilac wanting to be a pine
the pine wanting to be a daisy

you are the daisy
i suppose so

how can i ever believe you
when all the while
you have been dreaming
of wings to fly away?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Message

Wind of the gentle summer night,
Dwell in the lilac tree,
Sway the blossoms clustered light,
Then blow over to me.

Wind, you are sometimes strong and great,
You frighten the ships at sea,
Now come floating your delicate freight
Out of the lilac tree,

Wind you must waver a gossamer sail
To ferry a scent so light,
Will you carry my love a message as frail
Through the hawk-haunted night?

For my heart is sometimes strange and wild,
Bitter and bold and free,
I scare the beautiful timid child,
As you frighten the ships at sea;

[...] Read more

poem by Duncan Campbell Scott
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Time Eyes

time eyes
blue morning reality

walking instant
remembered
then confusing

dew on lilacs
loaded still

barefoot pretense
of aged innocence

poem by Peter S. Quinn
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time eyes (From,134 Picture Poems)

time eyes
blue morning reality

walking instant
remembered
then confusing

dew on lilacs
loaded still

barefoot pretense
of aged innocence

poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Love Come To Me

Love, come to me in rose of red,
to lie upon my loveless bed ~
now filled with thorns of passions past,
into the wind, the thorns I cast.

Love, come to me in lilac hue,
with scented breath of lilac blue
and essence of love's lost repast ~
into the wind, lost love I cast.

Love, come to me in leaves of green,
with greening leaves of emerald sheen ~
awaiting in the brambling bough,
into the wind, I cast love now.

Love, come to me in yellowed fields,
lined with the golden daffodils ~
awaiting love to come along,
into the wind, I cast love's song.

[...] Read more

poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
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A Seduction: Perfumed Lanes

Walking through
my fathers' garden
lilacs in bloom
the walk-way
perfumed;
drugged
my senses.

I surrendered
as you
spoke
of plans and dreams;
I felt content
to be there doing
nothing but being there
talking with and listening to you.

The sound of your voice
is soothing to me.

[...] Read more

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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A disagreement with T.S. Elliot (Partial Sonnet.)

I question T.S.Elliot’s remark
on April and the jist of what he said.
Some genius loves to languish in the dark
Lapping with the lilacs of the dead? *

So shakening the wakening of the year
Nostalgia and necrosis lay entwined*
For those who covet fantasies of fear
Hoisting sombre umbrellas o’er their mind

For me, this month’s allure has NEVER flagged.
(Coz “April” was the first lass wot I shagged!)

* Inspired by the quote:

“ April is the cruellest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.” -T.S.Elliot

poem by Reece Kaye
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I Summon To Sleep

I SUMMON TO SLEEP

The flowers and the trees
I summon to sleep-
Lilacs, roses, almond-blossom, peach-
Play gently in my mind
And soothe me into dreams.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Song in a Minor Key

There's a place I know where the birds swing low,
And wayward vines go roaming,
Where the lilacs nod, and a marble god
Is pale, in scented gloaming.
And at sunset there comes a lady fair
Whose eyes are deep with yearning.
By an old, old gate does the lady wait
Her own true love's returning.

But the days go by, and the lilacs die,
And trembling birds seek cover;
Yet the lady stands, with her long white hands
Held out to greet her lover.
And it's there she'll stay till the shadowy day
A monument they grave her.
She will always wait by the same old gate, --
The gate her true love gave her.

poem by Dorothy Parker
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Amethysts

My eyes forgot the heavens’ blue,
To them the sun’s dust is not gold,
But I live just one substance through,
That’s to the amethyst’s planes owned.

‘Cause that that, drunker than young spring
And troubling stronger than idea,
The lilac fires have to sing
And coldly play with colors here.

And for the heart with pain and shame,
A dream comes, tender and deceiving:
As a crystal in the candles’ flame,
To stay in cold of lilac singing.

poem by Innokenty Fedorovich Annensky
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The Happiest Day

It was early May, I think
a moment of lilac or dogwood
when so many promises are made
it hardly matters if a few are broken.
My mother and father still hovered
in the background, part of the scenery
like the houses I had grown up in,
and if they would be torn down later
that was something I knew
but didn't believe. Our children were asleep
or playing, the youngest as new
as the new smell of the lilacs,
and how could I have guessed
their roots were shallow
and would be easily transplanted.
I didn't even guess that I was happy.
The small irritations that are like salt
on melon were what I dwelt on,
though in truth they simply
made the fruit taste sweeter.

[...] Read more

poem by Linda Pastan
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Pat wasn't Pat last night at all

Pat wasn't Pat last night at all.
He was the rain,
The Spring,
Young Dionysus, white and warm,
Lilac and everything.

poem by Lesbia Harford
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The Final Say: April

As Mother Goose says,
'April brings the primrose sweet,
Scatters daisies at our feet.'

As Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote,
'April cold with dripping rain
Willows and lilacs brings again.'

poem by Monty Gilmer
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Lydia Is Gone This Many A Year

Lydia is gone this many a year,
Yet when the lilacs stir,
In the old gardens far or near,
The house is full of her.

They climb the twisted chamber stair;
Her picture haunts the room;
On the carved shelf beneath it there,
They heap the purple bloom.

A ghost so long has Lydia been,
Her cloak upon the wall,
Broidered, and gilt, and faded green,
Seems not her cloak at all.

The book, the box on mantel laid,
The shells in a pale row,
Are those of some dim little maid,
A thousand years ago.

[...] Read more

poem by Lizette Woodworth Reese
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Nocturne Of Remembered Spring

I.

Moonlight silvers the tops of trees,
Moonlight whitens the lilac shadowed wall
And through the evening fall,
Clearly, as if through enchanted seas,
Footsteps passing, an infinite distance away,
In another world and another day.
Moonlight turns the purple lilacs blue,
Moonlight leaves the fountain hoar and old,
And the boughs of elms grow green and cold,
Our footsteps echo on gleaming stones,
The leaves are stirred to a jargon of muted tones.
This is the night we have kept, you say:
This is the moonlit night that will never die.
Through the grey streets our memories retain
Let us go back again.

II.

[...] Read more

poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Purple Opulence

purple petals in opulence
closer, hanging, in bunches
like lilac flares,
and cascading like
colored fountain
somewhere in
Chicago spring.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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