Best Canopied Poems
'Twas the time of Summer solstice, they wed
Verdant leaves clung to trees; the month was June
Whispered troths of love, sacred vows were said
'fore fauna, rising sun and waning moon
Prince Largent was soon to be crowned as king
but Mekram, the wise, held grief in his eyes
He smiled with joy when Asha wore the ring
Though death neared, he feigned a joyous disguise
Bodies joined, celestial and human
Festive auguries 'pon the forest floor
Skies aflame, trees canopied with lumen
Their world glows today, and forevermore
'Twas said to be just an immortal tale
but in June, astral light gleams in the vale
There is a solace in his silence, a servant of his solitudes,
As he comforts in compliance, a jester to the multitudes…
He stands alone a neophyte, struggling within his confines,
Actions that do excite, impugnable inhibition when he signs.
Master of the satirical sad, a foreordained flounder of many,
Like a narcotized nomad, wandering wills a penniless plenty…
A calamitous circus in mind, his heart exposed in the limelight,
Dolorous detentions unkind, amidst filling his formidable finite.
A bombarding bombast, with words falling to the desolate deep,
Sailing with a maudlin mast, wearing a facetious frown as to weep…
Layered with lecherous lashes, upon wounding the sacrificial soul,
His anguish turns to ashes, within continuation of his dramatic role.
A buffoon protected by providence, metamorphic minstrel of laugh,
Lacking in canopied confidence, recklessly writing his eternal epitaph…
As he mimes until the morrows, living amongst a false fading reality,
With a smolder to his sorrows, court jesting as a nilpotent nobody.
Feb.28.2020
Repost From May 23, 2019
Clown at the Abyss
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
Placed 7'th...Thank You
My descent was gradual, sedge meadows with wondrous pink orchid variations visited by never identified damselflies, my head starting to swim; erasing time, giving way to a dark canopied wetland of black spruce, difficult to traverse, sloping deer trails the safest path to take, avoiding quick-mud holes. These trails are popular in the forest, as signs reveal, death struggle remains, the saddest.
This is the area I saw the hairless half ape/half wolf like creature block my trail, stopping to look at me deeply, then vanishing like a ghost, without even a ruffle of plants.
Sometimes a plant, flower or insect calls to me "come closer" so I approach with caution; my hand carved heavy oak staff probing for danger, strong enough to ward off bears and badgers, snakes & insect saboteurs, intent on my demise.
With compass and topo I chart my course, knowing each time I visit these wild places in the forest off Lake Superior, it could be my last, so I bring back natural, wondrous souvenirs that fill my day-dreams, content once more, cleansed of my sins by Her Majesty, the forests off Gitchi Gumee.
Authors note...never venture into these wild places alone, always be prepared with survival equipment in your pack.
Serene sounds of the Rhythm of the Falls
Echo through the forests green canopied walls
Delightful in flow like Robin's pen
Where the Rhythm of the Falls will flow time and time again
Her liquid lullaby, capturing natures sight
Greened mossed coverings, a velvet delight
As the waters fall under gravity feed
The Rhythm of the Falls, are beautiful indeed
After reading Robin's lovely Haiku " Liquid Lullaby " these lines flowed.
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/nature-5.php
Silently star shimmering moonlit love,
Love’s moment moves me. canopied night.
Whisper soft starsong melody shines;
To kiss, a kiss, we kiss (a prayer)
Wings away in the glitter gleam dark.
Alas! that kissingvelvet moments fly.
The wind rose early with the busying dawn;
And, rushing into the long avenue of beech -
Laid down years ago to accommodate labouring feet -
Began to scatter over neatly cut verge and lawns
With its own inimitable unruly gust, blow and fuss...
Within a cascading maelstrom of vivid bright yellowness.
Against strong trunks, held firm by steadfast roots,
Groans from creaking boughs as they upwardly heaved
Upon frantically thrashing branches showering
rusted, golden leaves;
Carpeting the rough stones below my trampling boots.
A mad kaleidoscope of leaping, swirling, skipping
colour
Where, as a child, I had once rediscovered...
Two green sandstone gate pillars sat well back
That ushered me under this arched, canopied track.
My heart is a garden, a glorious secret garden,
My Love has the sole key to enter into it,
He knows what I like and don't like ~
Whether it's roses or rhodenderons,
He knows when I'm angry or not ~
Whether it's cactus or chrysanthemums,
He knows how to make me happy ~
Whether it's hydrangeas or hibiscus,
He knows when I'm upset or upbeat ~
Whether it's weeping willow or wisteria,
He knows where to take me for a treat ~
Whether it's Spring or Summer,
He knows me inside out ~
Whether it's lilies or lavender,
He knows the secret code to my soul ~
Whether it's compassed or canopied,
Who knows about my Love?
He is my partner for life,
My beloved better half,
My garden's proper custodian,
In his hands, my heart is out of harm's way,
And I can rest secure.
The sun is shinning and the breeze is a blow,
my table all white with lace in it's place and
tea cups in a row.
Fresh, red watermelon in tiny scoops with triangle cut orange
marmalade sandwiches lined in the shape of a loop.
Hazelnut butter and apple jam adorns thinly sliced ham.
A lovely little teapot with yellow roses painted
on it's stem, gives a flowery glow to this day's trend.
The lavender in the garden is all a bloom with
fuzzy, yellow and black bumble bees kissing it's plumes.
Ivy canopied along the gate, all this green makes me
feel so alive and great. This day is filled with family and
friends, a wonderful time watching the children play, I hate
to see it end.
Bluebirds are perched on the window seal and then in the
back ground I hear a whiperwhil. Butterflies gliding through
the air, just like us, they haven't a care.
The ladies talk of all that's new and gossip silly little tales
the whole day through. Clouds passing in big, white, puffy
hues and perfectly shades the court yard's designed clues.
A garden party, its always a treat, a place where after
the flower garden walk, you can sip tea, have a laugh, even tell a
secret, a true friend will keep and a place in nature you can
rest peacefully, your feet.
It all starts at around five thirty
And by six thirty the entire canopy
Is awash with white birds flattering
Or resting or just having bird fun
I approach just as dusk beckons
After a fascinating African sunset
And there they are happily unsettled
Seeking fun or to re-establish their lair
For the wide-canopied acacia tree
Is visibly reeling from the weight
Of hundreds of seemingly indefatigable
Singing, dancing or simply playful birds
I leave the place as darkness thickens
And wish them a pleasant slumber
And return to my solitary corner
For the long nocturnal journey
To tomorrow and all its chores
And I promise myself an early rise
To check on my neighbour birds
But find them gone, all of them
What brings them back to this tree
For strange as it might sound
There’s not a single nest there
And not a single nestling, either?
3,2,1...
Ignition Button Lit,
The Light Glows Bright, Eyes intense, focused
Your little thumb presses, waiting
Switch engaged, fuse is smoking,
The engine fires and spreads its hot red flame across the launch plate.
Lift off is slow at first and then....
in a blink off the Pad
Eyes pop with delight.
Laugh of satisfaction as it climbs higher, higher and even higher yet...
"Oh man"!!! "Look at it"!!!
The climax of the arching Rocket,
the pop of the nose cone,
the main fire of the engine now out.
Main Deployment of the shoot.
Parachute out, canopied,
Safely floating down
"I can catch it"!
"Come on"
The Rocket recovered
"Let's do it again"
BACKROADS
Rocky,
Dusty,
Bumpy,
Curving,
Twisting,
Turning
Tree-Canopied pathways;
The Short cut
The Scenic Route
Or the long way home.
2012 Patricia Neely-Dorsey
from My Magnolia Memories and Musings in Poems
#country #countrylife #countrylifepoems #southernpoems
Country Roads
Sandy, soft, sacred soil savored
Calm, cool, canopied, carefree place
Picturesque painting a panacea
Luminous, luculent road lumbering home
There is a solace in his silence, a servant of his solitudes,
As he comforts in compliance, a jester to the multitudes…
He stands alone a neophyte, struggling within his confines,
Actions that do excite, impugnable inhibition when he signs.
Master of the satirical sad, a foreordained flounder of many,
Like a narcotized nomad, wandering wills a penniless plenty…
A calamitous circus in mind, his heart exposed in the limelight,
Dolorous detentions unkind, amidst filling his formidable finite.
A bombarding bombast, with words falling to the desolate deep,
Sailing with a maudlin mast, wearing a facetious frown as to weep…
Layered with lecherous lashes, upon wounding the sacrificial soul,
His anguish turns to ashes, within continuation of his dramatic role.
A buffoon protected by providence, metamorphic minstrel of laugh,
Lacking in canopied confidence, recklessly writing his eternal epitaph…
As he mimes until the morrows, living amongst a false fading reality,
With a smolder to his sorrows, court jesting as a nilpotent nobody.
~~~
First Released: May 23, 2019
Repost: Nov 18, 2019
Writing Challenge 2, November - A Poem Meaningful
Sponsored by: Dear Heart - Wiishkobi Ode
Placed 1'st...Thank You
I
The depth of steep, hellish ascent
darkness abides, the peak obscene.
cliffhanger of sweat, the creature bent
attempting to climb, make a dent.
No wind brushes away the hair in her eyes.
She recalls nothing of birdsong or sunrise.
A hunchback of time, minutes pass slowly.
Diamonds glitter, the sun beats boldly.
Like a desert walk the road is parched.
With a sting of bumblebees she marched.
II
Delightful descent of diamondiferous slide.
Easy-peasy pleasant, air-conditioned ride.
Beautiful petals of friends, flutter of wings,
a moon full of stars, the universe sings.
Bare feet, toes polished bright pinks and reds.
Canopied four-posters, wide open beds.
Trees with jade and ruby candies, sweet
to the tongue, as she tells of her wild treat
life, retreat with angel feathers, falling
for her many handsome men, wailing
on her silken sheets as she says so long
to the coddlesome place she knows she belongs.
III
Suddenly the slide falls out, the flames shoot up.
She drinks the potent blood from her chalice cup.
As her fear and anger explode, the fire grows hotter.
The ground like a hurricane ship, teeter-totters. Sinks.
IV
Her twin stands tall, as a snowy white sail;
blue skies, the eyes of God, she hails.
All torment wiped from her brow, she’s strong
She climbed upwards by the narrow way.
V
Don’t take the easy ride. It’s a bottomless pit.
Fly to heights of eagles wings - the depth of eternal lift.
3/13/2021
Dinosaurs, Dodos, Quaggas, Night Herons
exist no more.
The roar of Lions, whinny of Zebras, bleat of Giraffes
And the hum of ostriches are all on the verge of demise.
The faith of the giant trees that canopied the forest,
lies on the ground.
Where are the birds that sang sweet melodies
to our ears?
The clean air we used to breathe,
has now been made acrid.
Good rivers and streams are but in our dreams
Our resources are running dry like the rivers
of summer.
Straight into the heart of our skin is the sun's rays,
Because the ozone layer is in wipe like tears
in the eyes of mourners.
Wake up! Oh natives of Africa my home
For our own actions are causing our breath to cease
The wind is blowing high nature's loud cry
Yes! It's through the valleys and will rest on top
of the mountains.
All we need, is lifted eyes and opened ears.
save Africa!
For we will have ourselves to blame if we don't
The life we are to enjoy will be a burden to endure
Hear out nature's cry, say no! to ;
Illegal mining, bush fire, deforestation
and other acts which endangers our beautiful home.
Save AFRICA, save HUMANITY save The WORLD.
......STRANJA........