POETIC BLOOMINGS is a Phoenix Rising Poetry Guild site established in May 2011 to nurture and inspire the creative spirit.


The Florette, created by Jan Turner, consists of two or more 4-line stanzas.

Syllable count: 8,8,8,12
Rhyme scheme: a,a,b,a
Fourth line requirement: internal (b) rhyme on syllable 8.

A great form for POETIC BLOOMINGS  since, like the outgrowing of a small flower, the fourth line of each stanza is longer, and enwraps the previous lines. Line #4 requires an internal rhyme that rhymes the eighth syllable with the end of line #3, and continues to add on four more syllables than the other lines so that the fourth line ends rhyming with lines #1 and #2.


The Joy of Writing

They say there’s something to be said
For having shelves of books you’ve read.
I’d rather they were books I wrote.
What ere it takes I will devote, and forge ahead.
What ere it takes?  I can’t immerse
Myself into this universe
Of dull research I must weed through. 
So to my heart I will be true — I’ll write light verse.
Copyright © – Marie Elena Good – 2013


Standing in the shadows of love,
with millions of stars up above,
hearts embrace to hold each other,
a chance to keep one another hidden in love.

But, love is the chance that we take,
fueled by emotion, yet we make
the best of the cards we’ve been dealt,
and if we have luck, hearts will melt, make no mistake.

Copyright © – Walt Wojtanik- 2013

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  1. What a lovely form! And your examples are stunning, both of you. 🙂

  2. I’m not even sure what prompted this interesting poetical outburst – perhaps a combination of gazing too long at the moon, and Lord Byron’s “She walks in beauty, like the night…” 😉

    She Is The Keeper Of The Moon

    She walks among the stars at night,
    Her train is rays of bright moonlight,
    As silver as a fish’s scales,
    Or new-cut diamonds, sharp and pale, a queen in white;

    She is the keeper of the moon,
    The whole world sleeps as lovely croon
    Of rest and peace escapes her lips,
    She loves the dark; solar eclipse; hates afternoon;

    Her name’s not mentioned in old tales,
    Or hidden in the wind’s sad wails,
    Or even whistled in a tune:
    She is the keeper of the moon; her light prevails.

    © Copyright Erin Kay Hope – 2013

  3. William Preston on said:


    I chanced upon a desert bloom
    that graced the air with mild perfume;
    its scent was subtle, breathing wild
    yet tender as a little child afraid of gloom.

    I found a bit of nearby shade
    and waited for the heat to fade;
    as coolness came with falling light,
    the flower’s scent grew with the night, its passion played.

    copyright 2013; William Preston

  4. Henrietta Choplin on said:

    Walt and Meg, you have made the form lovely…

  5. DebiSwim on said:

    Ray of Hope

    The leaden sky hung low and cold
    as day by day it’s grayness rolled
    across the weary field and creek
    turned the dove, mild and meek, into a harpy scold.

    But, oh, the joy, the great relief
    when sun crept in like sneaky thief
    to rob the gloom of its grim hold
    with gentleness she cajoled the world back to gold.

  6. Stay Awhile

    There is a place, where bluebirds sing
    picket-fenced streets, where church bells ring
    spring comes early and fall stays late
    come on let’s go, don’t hesitate, won’t cost a thing
    ❈ ✾ ❃ ❈ ✾ ❃
    We’ll bounce ourselves off blank pages
    paint the town pink, till it rages
    We’ll write new songs of patient blues
    We’ll search the bars for tasty brews and wise sages
    ❈ ✾ ❃ ❈ ✾ ❃
    We’ll rid ourselves of pocket change
    hoot and holler from mountain range
    flash our brightest winningest smile
    We’ll dance and shimmy in the aisle at the town grange

    © ~ Randy Bell ~ 2013

  7. Pingback: IN-FORM POET WEDNESDAY – FLORETTE | cloudfactor5

  8. Where Is The Truth

    Excuses are criterion
    We use to make decisions on
    The truth no longer lights our way
    We live with eyes closed every day; yet we move on

    Our morals now are relative
    We choose the way we wish to live
    Inside ourselves we choose to hide
    With God we no longer abide; will He forgive

  9. ejparsons on said:

    This Walk

    This walk I’ve pictured in my head
    Anticipation turns to dread
    What will I do without her there?
    “Let go,” I tell myself. “This pair is to be wed.”

    For so long she’s been in my life
    Soon she will be this young man’s wife
    I’m shaking as I walk the aisle
    She tells me it’s okay and smiles; she is my life

  10. claudsy on said:

    Nice little form here, Walt and Marie. I’m not sure if I’m up to it yet. It’s still too early in the day for me to choose. We’ll see how the day wears on. Poetic Muse has fled me for a little while, I admit.

    I do like this form, though. I’ll have to try it at some point soon.

  11. Dénouement

    Pre-school, school, college, locations,
    jobs, projects, organizations,
    boyfriends, marriage, children’s ages,
    writing, hobbies, people, stages, and vacations

    stretch out as chapters in a book.
    Each one ends with intriguing hook.
    My story one to recommend?
    I wish I could turn to the end, and take a look.

  12. Promise

    How you change, more so than the seas
    Your tides come and go as they please.
    Sky, we call heaven, and we bide
    Awaiting permission to ride, looked-for release.

    See, God says, the eternal sky
    And yet it, too, will say goodbye
    Much more lovely heaven will be
    Painted in grace, eternity’s pastels alive.

  13. ejparsons on said:

    The Deck

    Fourteen feet long by five feet wide
    Off the kitchen door, back right side
    A platform deck low to the ground
    My weight, the rot, the deck broke down, on just one side

    No longer did I trust the deck
    I could rebuilt it, what the heck
    I have the tools, the time, the skills
    All I need is materials to build a deck

    The old deck put up quite a fight
    I cut and pulled into the night
    They wanted it in place to stay
    But determined, I’d have my way and win this fight

    Two days it took to take it out
    Another two to stake it out
    In concrete holes the posts set good
    Once dry I framed with treated wood all leveled out

    I set the joists on Saturday
    With rain and church I skipped Sunday
    On Monday the deck top went down
    By Wednesday it was stained light brown, it looked okay

    On Friday it was dry enough
    To place the furniture and stuff
    And get things set for food and fun
    A place to gather, play and sun, and other stuff


    How sad the innocent should pay
    when leaders opt to have their way
    declaring wars to claim more land,
    forgetting life is built on sand and nothing stays.

    When all is done the price is high:
    The soldiers fall and children die,
    their lives cut short for evil gain
    and now beneath the falling rain the buried lie.

    What can be done to leave behind
    this thirst for blood, this greed so blind?
    Will man one day evolve beyond
    his cryptic hard-to-fathom bond with war unkind?


  15. connielpeters on said:

    Yes, great poem.

  16. janeshlensky on said:


    At first push, there is just the sprout
    nosing its way upward and out
    to light through soil, reaching sun’s rays
    that welcome greening, growing—days florists tout.

    Then on that skinny newborn shoot,
    new growth expands, as does the root,
    and what was small budding florette,
    is now a mound of flowers set for their debut.

  17. janeshlensky on said:


    Her garden apron’s pockets hold
    a plethora of tools that fold
    new plants into the ready earth,
    where she is midwife to the birth of greening gold.

    Some say she’s best among her plants
    than any other circumstance,
    patient to see what time will yield
    in ground that proves God’s special field of penitence.

    She doesn’t pray for leaf or bloom
    although her flowers fill the rooms
    of those who ache and weep and mourn.
    She knows as sure as she is born, earth is our womb.

  18. Good Luck Charm

    A pink shell glittered in the sand
    She reached for it with her small hand
    and rinsed the shell at hem of sea
    What a treasure she found to match her pink head band.

    She took her treasure to a friend
    eager to share, perhaps to lend
    that pink shell to her injured mate,
    who would have to wait for her broken leg to mend.

  19. Safe Harbor

    Weary from a world full of pain,
    trembling from the weight of the strain.
    Coming home where comfort is sought,
    knowing her mask is all for naught, resting her brain

    on rosemary scented pillows,
    her eyes closed, the curtain billows
    and she dreams of laughing again,
    dancing with him down in the glen, beneath willows

    waving gently in the soft breeze,
    close, kissing and with knees to knees.
    She wraps her hands tight, to keep him,
    feeling him like a phantom limb, can’t let go, please.

  20. I’m going to do some self-advertising here. 😉 My grandma used one of my poems on her blog today. She is an incredibly gifted artist and painted the picture on her post. She’s also the reason I started painting. 🙂 Here’s a link if any of you want to look:


  21. DebiSwim on said:

    A lot of talent in your family. You both do beautiful work.

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