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Best Green Poems

Below are the all-time best Green poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of green poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New Green Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Green poems are below this new poems list.

Green Acres by Robinson Jr., Freddie
Green foliage grays at full age by Ikwuamaesi, Celestine
Red, Gold and Green by Wanter, Sunlite
Missing green days by Raina, Meenakshi
upon green leas by Stassi, Rick
Depths of Green by Taylor, Kevin
Within The Green by Wings, Broken
green trees are naked by Osho, Francis

View all new Green Poems

The Best Green Poems

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One Green Leaf

One leaf fell from a tall, tall tree
and subtly kissed gnarled roots beneath;
a lover’s kiss below sunned-sheath 
of greenest leaves, a jubilee.  

One spiraling leaf brought playful mirth
to sullen earth of trodden dirt.
A flight of hopeful shades of spring,
for hard, hard ground, an offering

One leaf dressed in a sparkling jade
glided with grace to green grass blades    
and rested near a bubbling brook,
then waited for warm breeze that shook
its flirty skirt on green, green glade.   

An arc of bright green canopy
warmed my heart in bluest mood, 
and one leaf blew a kiss from you.
It twirled and pranced and floated by,
then with a touch it came to lie 
green in my hand, a dear surprise. 

Like emerald hills of Irish tales, 
I marveled at how one leaf sailed
green In my hand that blue, blue day,
a kiss from you on Patty’s Day -
The gray clouds parted shining green, 
a beauty like I’d never seen.

for Francine's Show Me the Green Contest, 3/18/15 

Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015

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Enchantment of magic’s sweet passion has bound me
With minutes and hours I now must reclaim;
Spellbound, love calls to the spirits around me
And drifts into dreams at the sound of his name.

The breath of his memory awakens from slumber;
I hear the soft whispers of a loving refrain
That stirs in my heart such an infinite hunger
With incense to scent each exquisite strain.

The face of my love comes back in a vision
With sounds of his voice in the soft grey gloom;
In a twilight of stars when the scent is Elysian
I wait for him under the plum tree in bloom.

So hushed is the flute of a love song enchanted
With music he played when his mouth was stirred;
 I now hear the song so tenderly haunted
Invading my dreams with all that I heard.

As green leaves and blossoms twine and are braided
The strings of my heart have come undone;
When the lush of the green vine is woven unfaded
The binding of my heart with his is as one.

Copyright © elizabeth wesley | Year Posted 2011

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Wood Stages

I Death Wood

My skeleton, the trembling tree,
hit by the axes of ambulances
due to the decay of disease.
My muscles languish as wilted leaves.
My organs are rotting red apples.
My soul is the searing wind, while
my thoughts tick like termites.

The ivy of MS illness wraps with
waste around my twisted trunk.
Suddenly, spiders of suicide 
descend onto my branches.
They crawl across my broken bark,
crackling my rustic eyesight.

The sun, a golden unicorn, gone
into the forest of healthy laughter.
My wilted wood wanes in a cloud coma
with no moon, stars or watercolor sky.
Where are my wildflowers? 
Where is my green gleam?
I wait and wish for black lighting.

II Birth Wood

My family, the fog where most
float in the underworld as veiled
ghosts along the grassy grounds.
My thirsty roots reach for them
like wild hands hungry in ebony soil.
Sometimes their memory perfumes
and pollinates my heart with prayers.

My friends are a flock of birds that
become singing bracelets upon my bark.
Their feathers grace me like silk hope.
Their beaks devour the suicide spiders
on my weak wood, and their cheerful 
songs encourage me to bloom once again. 

Full moon flashes as a white wizard,
wearing a cloak of competitive clouds,
while moody night smolders as his black hat.
Spirals of opal light make my bark bright.
Spirit moonbeams weave within my wood,
healing hollow shadows, and allowing me to 
taste the monthly midnight milk of magic.

III Rain Wood

Spring steams with saturating rainfall,
sealing my splinters, washing away webs,
and the dirt of daily depression. 
My sap slides like a slow moving sea.
My tree bends and bows in all
directions, sprouting with joy.
Jade fire erupts along my branches.

Raindrops beat like crystal hearts
upon my boughs and my blossoms.
These clear spheres of nature inspire 
rebirth and germination of all life.
My apples sing as flutes, my leaves
clap hands, and my trunk plays harp.

My lover, the lone eagle, appears and flaps
his feathered wings upon my wooden nest.
Our love is best lived in traveling weather.
My limbs taste the last drops of dissipating dew
as the crocheting clouds release final rivers.
Deer court in the fermenting forest,
while golden unicorn grazes upon me.

February 7th 2008

Sponsor: A Poet Destroyer
Contest: 100 in a ROW contest--3

Copyright © Chantelle Anne Cooke | Year Posted 2015

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The Glory of Green

Green hues denote the healing of our earth,
That special season of springtime’s rebirth.

Green grasses growing o’er the hillside's face,
Embracing greening trees in leafy lace.

While amber fields engage in heaven’s kiss
As raindrops splash into emerald bliss,

I watch amazed as tender shoots abound
With daffodils and tulips breaking ground.

A floral scent begins to fill March air.
St. Patty’s I’ll wear flowers in my hair.

So many varied hues that can be seen,
This Irish lass loves every shade of green!

© Connie Marcum Wong

Contest: Go Green
Sponsor Poet Destroyer

Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2015

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Green - I have seen you somewhere within

Green - I have seen you somewhere within my evergreen soul
Where the Omniscient plays his flute
To rejuvenate the tired ones - scattered by the humdrum of daily chores
His idiosyncratic tune soothes my heart

Green - I have seen you somewhere within the desolated dry lands
Where you assure us of a definite return
Spiralling with the next rain to come - with the seeds of new love
Sprouting with our endless hopes - in the hands of caressing farmers
Farmers of life too

Green - I have seen you somewhere within the falling leaves
Burnt by the desires of their own - dejected souls
Still they fall on the ground from where they got nourishment
Mix them with their mother to make her fertile
To maintain the perpetual flow of love
To the next progeny

An evergreen dream
Comes true
Green - I have seen you somewhere within ... 
My hopes


Copyright © Anindya Mohan Tagore | Year Posted 2016

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Green Spanish Eyes - Part 3

Continued from Part 2
Ah Consuela! I’m watching as lightning at midnight in green Spanish eyes Kindles cracks within crystals like flashes from pistols residing inside of the gloom, And it hovers above us betraying a dove as she basks in the blackness of doom. Ah Consuela! I’m watching, distilling despair in her green Spanish eyes, And the bitterness stings like the snap of the strings when a mystical mandolin sighs As the vampire shades suck the life from charades neath the resinous residue skies. Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she steps to the ledge with her green Spanish eyes, For the terrace hangs high and she’s thinking to fly and abandon fate’s merry-go-round. At the edge I perceive her and rush to retrieve her - she stumbles, falls far to the ground. Ah Consuela! I’m watching the sparkles a’ spilling from green Spanish eyes. As I peer from the railing, with evening exhaling, I cry out a lover’s lament - There she lies midst the crowd with her spirit unbowed, but her body’s all broken and bent. Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she beckons me hither with green Spanish eyes, And I’m slightly amazed being snared in her gaze and a’ swirl in a hurricane way, But the seconds are slipping, my courage is dripping, the moment is bleeding away. Ah Consuela! I’m touching, she weeps tender tears with her green Spanish eyes; As the breezes cease blowing, her essence leaves, flowing, in streams neath the ambient light, And the droplets drip swarming, so silent, yet warming, like rain in a midsummer night. Ah Consuela! I’m holding, and hushed by the hints in her green Spanish eyes, While her whispers are breathing the breaths of the seething electrical skeletal winds, And the words paint the poems that rivers a’ slowin’ reveal where the waterfall ends. Ah Consuela! I’m fading in fires a' flicker in green Spanish eyes, As she plays back the past, she abandons and casts away matters that no longer mend... And she reached out instead, as she lifted her head, and we kissed as she parted, my friend. Ah Consuela! I’m tangled, entombed, trapped in tales of your green Spanish eyes, In forsaken cantinas beyond the arenas where night-time illusions once flowed, For the ash neath my shoulder still throbs as it smoulders some place near the end of the road.

Copyright © Terry O'Leary | Year Posted 2012

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Lily Of The Valley

Light searches softly for me down here in the loamy dark;
I offer my awakening self to the vast blue canvas of sky.
Leaves filter a soft sigh of air through trees
yielding their branches to the balmy, blossom-swirling breeze.

Open me gently to promises that still pulse in me, let me
feel the sweet green unfurling of hope and possibility.

Turquoise murmurings of water seep into my scented skin.
Hear me as my floral notes begin to sing of a happy return of spring;
efflorescing in sun-gold streams and trembling sunbeams.

Valleys sling their green hammocks between the hills
and pale fingers of light slide softly under my lucent skin.
Lucid memory will return again: how the sun's rays reached for me,
luminous upon my white, fragrant frailty; how the vast expanse of blue
entranced me, as I awakened to ascend the ladder of light,
yearning for my perfumed release from the earth's cold clamp.

Copyright © Charlotte Jade Puddifoot | Year Posted 2011

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As Green As Grass

Along a fence and out into a field I amble; seduced by a tree surrounded by flowers, I stroll toward a small hill. Gentle is this grassy slope redolent of sweet birch and the wildflowers birthed from fertile earth. I’m at ease as my eyes embrace a valley extending endlessly with emerald enchantment. Nature’s nakedness is lush! Auspicious day! All around me is the ambiance of spring and scent of grass where sheep now graze. Gathering sun’s rays, Nature glistens, for she’s become radiant from her recent rendezvous with Rain! As Sun in azure sky arrives with all his ardor, sparrows sing in my shady tree, soothing me. Sanguine is my soul amidst green splendor. Written March 1, 2016

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016

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in my green dream

and in my green dream, I find myself in a green lush forest
dripping wet with life, steamy and sultry
I am one with nature and with the emerald drifting water
oh, the chartreuse moss and the wet lime green ferns
I float in tranquility and beneath me seaweed grows, swaying
so many greens all united in harmony
juniper, sage, olive, shamrock, pine 
emerald green of a little frog and the dark green of a crocodile
small green fish kissing my toes
  a lovely green flower, a green snake slithers
    a fluttering green butterfly, a green bird sings sweetly
      green twining vines, meandering in the dark green foliage
        my sage green eyes, whisper come fall into the green depths with me
I will take you to green, green world full of utter peace
all beautiful shades of green, mingled and entwined, united in nature and life

February 29, 2016

Free Verse

For the contest, United Colors: Green
sponsor, Silent One

First Place

Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2016

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An array of green

Heart and soul yearn for evergreen spirits
to roam within a province of green palettes.
Natural verdant gardens flourishing unique
green roses, blooming harlequin carnations,
blossoming among elegant emerald orchids
and mother's Chartreuse chrysanthemum.
Cal Poly green caterpillars crawl among
forest green leaves, searching for a place
to form a dark spring green cocoon chrysalis.
Miles of green fields and hills remind you about
home as farmers cultivate fern green pastures
and animals graze among shamrock meadows.  
Aromatic vineyards of Paris green grapes ripen
along acres of green olives, avocados and apples.
As Spring beckons, prismatic green shades begin
to dye barren lands, nourishing cold naked trees.
Fresh scents appear with an optimistic sun as
hibernating animals awaken to an array of green.

The Silent One
18 February 2016

Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2016

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Enchanting melodies call me to the lush green forest, the
calls of soprano birds singing to my spirit, heart, soul, blissfully.
Sweet rhapsodies enthrall me to dwell within this intoxicating forest.
Trancelike and enraptured, I fall into the emerald and the lovely wildflowers,
and the forest has a magical spell on my beauty.  I dwell in this green dream.
Stillness, you will find with me in the lush, do not be afraid, just step into rapture.
You will find euphoria and peace, now take my hand and you will be transported . . . 

June 28, 2016

Acrostic Free Verse

For the contest, Ecstasy
sponsor, John Hamilton

Third Place

Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2016

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The Color Missing

The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes.  Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death.

‘But what about the Green pens?’ I ask. They say ‘the ink is too hard to see.’

Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt | Year Posted 2013

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Golden Dreams

The Leprechaun.

Run, run, run as fast as you can...
I'm still gonna get you, my little green man...
I grabbed on to the gold buckle on his waist...
I held him down, with no time to waste...
I tied The Leprechaun to a hollow tree,
Broke off a branch and poked him on the knees.
I kept on poking him with a stick.
I kept nagging him to reveal his magic trick.

This little shamrock kid would not break.
He kept insisting THE LEPRECHAUN legend was fake.

This little odd dwarf kept lying about his mythical pot of gold. 
I kept repeating all the stories I've been told..  
Nagging him and nagging him~ FOR HIS POT OF GOLD!
He lied, about the fables, telling me his gold does not exist...
The Leprechaun refused to hear the clover list...


It's been 7 days!
And, still he won't give up, what's at the end of the rainbow. 
Tickling his little Eskimo toes,
Running feathers underneath his nose. 
"Look you little green treasure troll, I've captured you, and demand the gold!"
"You won't get me with your tricks!"
"So don't even try to outwit me with your silly MAGIC!" 

I suppose his silver-tongue, will have to do,
And the little gold buckles on his shoe.
I got tired of trying to make him see, my point of view.
I got a better deal and trade for a monkey at the zoo.
Now the lions are enjoying a Pot of Leprechaun Stew. 
After All! 
Nothing I did, made him unfold.
All I wanted was his pot of gold!


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2012

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For Suzanne, Green and Golden

“The October night comes down; returning as before
Except for a slight sensation of being ill at ease
I mount the stairs and turn the handle of the door
And feel as if I had mounted on my hands and knees.”
----- “Portrait of a Lady;” T. S. Eliot

A golden afternoon,
Late October, and my thoughts
Are all of you, Suzanne…
Vestiges of your being
Appear on visages of 
A hundred different people;
But none are you, not one 
As green,  as golden.

Hard it is to know no miracle
Will mend, no giddy hope assuage,
The scourge that slowly puts an end
To our valiant green and golden girl.
Memory takes us to days of indolence,
Of innocence, of children lying on a levee,
Deep in lush, green, summer clover --
In sunlight almost as golden
As your hair -- beside a flowing river
Bearing away our golden hours
And the painless green  of youth.
Now, in your green room, reclined
In shadow, our golden girl reposes.
Your courage lights the coming night
That does not dim the gold and green
You always shared, and still you share.

Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2013

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Springing Sea of Green

I love it when Spring finally comes The buds showing their little sprouts Yes indeed from this seasons of four I'm awake many sleeping plants shout I love it when I walk through the parks When these buds turn to a sea of green Forgotten are the plants being so stark This birthing season just has to be seen I love it when I sit on the park benches When the breeze caresses Sakura trees The airs scented by their pinky blossoms Mother nature and man in total agree When I retire I'll grow a green thumb for I love it when Spring finally comes

Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2015

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Kaleidoscope Dreams

Green…you always reflected in my peripheral
And kept watch as I tried to color my world
But there I lay in my blacks and my blues,
lifeless and faltering In monotone hues.

Through kaleidoscope eyes, I envisioned my skies
But the pot at the rainbow was storybook lies
so with nothing to gain and nothing to lose,
I just shuffled around In my blacks and my blues.

Never did I imagine you!, Green… to be my savior
But there you arose, out of my dark abyss
With your bottle green dress and scarlet kiss
Your emerald  green eyes and unbridled bliss.

Now my kaleidoscope dreams have all been unfurled
Since you Green, have colored my world
You rescued my heart, Green
You rescued my heart.

Copyright © Bernard Colasurdo | Year Posted 2013

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A Room Full of Butterflies

Inspired by a Art gallery and a poem by Shelly.

A room full of  mottled multicolored butterflies
captured within a creative space
of artful design
to inspire and aspire
Flirt and flutter a delicate ballet
among the pot plants
A splash of color
an oasis
among a drab row of urban gray
The door is opened
and the butterflies are released to freedom
flying high above
lush green trees
in clear unblemished skies
floating like autumn fallen leaves
in a gentle breeze
painted Ladies
that rested on my heart for a while
and made it smile
bringing pleasure to my eye
A symbol of freedom and eternity
filling my dreams
with all the treasures of summer.

Peter Dome.copyright.2013. Sept.

Copyright © Peter Dome | Year Posted 2013

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Leaves of Trees

O dried up leaf lying there on the ground Fallen from the top of a sturdy tree Where you viewed everything that was around While you bathed in the sunshine's glory You manufactured food from the sunlight And together with the help of the roots Faithfully nourished your parent just right Creating a sturdy tree bearing fruits In spring and summer you wore brilliant green And supplied shade to others from the sun In autumn you became more colourful and before winter dropped off one by one Even now as you lay there on the dirt Nature must move on in its cyclic line You shall soon become a part of the earth And become food for others of your kind
iambic pentameter

Copyright © john beharry | Year Posted 2014

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My Wild Irish Heart - Kelly Green

My wild Irish heart - what could it do
that March when into my sweet girlhood blew
euphoria to make my heart careen?
Oh, heart as fresh as clover - kelly green -
when zephyr brought its scent of something new.

The breeze caressed me; all was made askew,
for what it had been carrying was you!
Beneath my tender breast there throbbed, unseen,
my wild Irish heart.

You bridled it and then you pierced it through.
Yet wilder than before and tough it grew.
For in your aftermath, I was to glean
the lessons that my youth had not foreseen -
and evermore would pulse in me - now blue -
my wild Irish heart!

Originally For Sandy Ivy's Go Green - what green means to you? (new or old poem)Poetry Contest  and now for Linda's Get your GREEN on!!! (Get into the spirit and Go Green) Happy March17 (old/new poems)Poetry Contest

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013

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Broken England

Broken England
By Steven Cooke

My Brave ancestors of England,
Look away, for I offend thee.

For your England is no more.
Decay eats away at this fallen empire.
Your people divided,
Its laws weakened by Europe’s power.
Its leadership, protecting the few.
The fresh air of your Country gone,
Only the stench of anarchy remains
Heroes of The Somme look away for I offend thee.

Stock Market Parasites, take without producing
Corporations overwhelm, the weak,
Without paying their due.
Their off shore havens digest the life blood of this once great nation,
Leaving the scraps of minimum wage for the masses to beg. 
The dead of Pashendale look away for I offend thee.

Government legislate to keep us in bondage to 66
Over the hill at 50, to wonder the dole queues
Youth denied education, 
Universities at a price,
Qualifications for the chosen few,
Unemployment, for the poor.
Our brothers of Gallipoli look away for I offend thee.

Our Cities are in pain.
Hopeless lives, with hopeless dreams,
Hopeless choices, drugs, crime,
Or silence behind closed doors.
Babies born to fail,
Children, exposed to depression and chips.
The ghosts of Arnhem look away for I offend thee.

A voice in the darkness, shouts its rage
The iron curtain of youth descends on England
This is no Lennon revolution,
This is youth with no future, abandoned by government
No rules here to obey, No Civic pride,
 No sense of History, no Country to protect
The Saviours of Goose green look away for I offend thee

But fat cats beware, for there is a dream,
That cannot be bought.
A warning from history.
A country cannot go forward,
Without learning from the past.

Your greed will self destruct
Your Paradise a lie
For a Dangerous wind now blows,
And common sense, will fail.
For England is Broken,
And life will never be the same,
In England’s green and pleasant land.
Now It is my turn to look away, 
for you see this offends me too.

Copyright © steven cooke | Year Posted 2011

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The Green Bench

Hidden past the highway bend, 
a bench clings to a shallow cliff
above a beach where banks extend
across the bay in sandy drifts.
When tides are low, the sea withdraws,
to flaunt the treasured ocean floor,
and anyone can walk across
the sand to reach the other shore.
With green paint peeling like old flesh,
the bench is baked in salt and sun.
Remember when the paint was fresh,
and in your arms I came undone? 
From here, we watch the water snag
in grooves of sand like buried mirrors. 
The sky is pink as sunlight fades.
Come close, my love, I need you nearer.

*This poem is based on the green bench (yes, it really exists!) at Sand Dollar Beach, located in the Rose Bay area of Nova Scotia, Canada 

Copyright © Heather Ober | Year Posted 2013

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Seat of kings

A stone round standing fortress crowns forever beauty
The name translated to english Grianan means sunny spot or sun temple
The land bows down inspirational the view 
seat of the high kings dating back to 1700 B.C
Overlooking Lough Swilly and Lough Foyle
Eogháin, after whom Inishowen is named
was baptised at Grianán by St. Patrick
where they imposed Patrick's rule 
Eoghan was a leader of the Ui Néill's 
the northern clan descended from Niall of the Nine Hostages 
Eoghan began a dynasty that brought forth the High Kings of Ireland 
for more than 500 years
our crowned jewel rings in the heart of Donegal

High up on a massive hilltop
it was a place of sun worship 
or the place of hibernation of Gráine
a Celtic sun-goddess

In Celtic mythology Grainne was the sister of Aine 
goddess of the sun, and though Grainne was known as goddess of corn 
or grain (springs from the earth after being nurtured by the sun)
both sisters are said to have been birthed by a sunbeam or “of the sun

There is also a tradition that the temple was built by Daghdha 
the good god or god of the earth 
He was known as the King of the Tuatha dé Danann
a race of supernatural beings descended from the Goddess Danu
They inhabited Ireland before the Celts
This tradition has Daghda building the fort to protect the grave of his son
A variation tells of giants building the hill and the Grianán on top a residence 
for the shining ones who gave birth to the children of the sídhe
All of these traditions link the hill and the fort on top with supernatural beings
to unseen energy and power and a link to the Otherworld

With one breathtaking scene 
overlooking spanning miles awestruck
sweeping below beautiful country side our forty shades 
of emerald green jewel of Ireland 

From inside outwards the pen flows golden precious
Here stands a kingdom 
dating back to a time of tuatha de danann
one dynasty sings over centuries
Legend states that the giants of Inishowen are lying sleeping 
but when the sacred sword is removed
they will spring to life reclaiming their ancient lands

Our ancient ring stone clad fort in Irish folklore sings
One such tale relates that Niall Frasach
he was born when these freasa or showers fell 
honey silver and blood
A high-king of Ireland 

Son of Fergal mac Maolduin 
Brother of Aodh Allan 
It is said that, when a famine occurred
they carried off by force the one cow 
that the solitary hermit of that church had 
the hermit cursed the king and his host
there was an earthquake 
people devoured one another there at this time

A great cow-plague existed
he prayed and the famine was lifted
with showers of food and silver falling from heaven. 
(High King of Ireland 743-770 AD)
to me it stands out one fort in a test of time 

On a clear day one can see five of the nine counties of Ulster 
from Grianán's parapets.
A truly magical wonder to behold
still standing in our midst 
sings enchanting sweet beautiful 
magical music to this heart

Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2015

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Our little Haven

When I was just a little girl
With mind as always, in a whirl
Me and my cousin, we would roam
Far, far away from my sweet home

We'd make our way to some rocks we knew
All covered by green moss, we two
Oh it was such a magic place
And left huge smiles upon my face

To us it was a fairyland
With imagination vast and grand
We both saw fairies, little elves too
Dancing daintily as they do

When that time came, we had to leave
Both our little hearts would grieve
We'd leave that haven, her and me
Our minds brim filled with memories

So we went back to normalcy
And though it made us both unhappy
We knew that soon we'd go back there
And see those we folk everywhere

Copyright © Vera Duggan | Year Posted 2014

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I saw her on first day of spring
She walked across the village green
She treaded on the verdant grass
In matching dress – a beauty queen!

She stole my heart; I looked in awe,
The playful wind ruffled her hair
And then she stopped beneath a tree
I could hear music in the air.

Then he arrived and fast approached
Her eyes lit up – my beauty queen;
As they embraced and fondly kissed
Engulfed with envy I turned green!  

24th March, 2015
Contest: It's Spring-Show Me Green!
Sponsor: Francine Roberts

Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2015

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Untitled Visions

 Cold clear water lapped 
against the tall green grass
from lakes filled with bass 
and red and black robins
 stand splashing their backs
 Among green waving ferns
 lying on the sandy bottoms 
 As mists gently tiptoe through
 on silent feet  in early Autumn

 Bright yellow dandelions
 and white daffodils dot the wilds,
as fragrances of wild rose drifts across the fields
 Puffy white clouds hurry by in reply
A shiny red apple hangs alone in the sky

Three girls lay white in the sand 
And snow lands gently on  feet and hands 
Brushed by the wind it wanders thru the night 
And each one arrives clean and bright
Red ripe strawberries snuggle against bright green nests 
While lazy white rabbits and big black owls rest 
Orange  and gold leaves float serenely by 
Tracing patterns in the fading twilight 
And still three girls lay white in the sand 

Copyright © jim joyce | Year Posted 2012