Best Coniferous Poems
Under the canopy of the pine trees we lay -
from the poem 'Under the canopy of pine trees by Eve Roper
UNDER THE CANOPY
Under the canopy of the pine trees we lay.
Fervent scent gives undertow noses a heady sway.
Four eyes closed, we swallow the coniferous forest.
Love thrives in our paradisiacal protraction of rest.
Blinded to adversity, verdancy thrives in aurora splay
As our minds run into the river of sunlight to play.
We make promises — nothing sovereign outside our love.
He squeezes my hand, our engagement rings think of
Only this moment, the splendor of our crashing lips.
Our bodies envelope each other like an eclipse.
The force of nature — the arcadian elixir, its bliss.
I shall nevermore forget the chill of reminisce.
4/10/2020
Poetic lines from a Poetry Soup Poet - Eve Roper Poetry Contest
Sponsor - Silent One
Atop a precipice there stands a tree
Amidst a large canvas of white and blue
Below ships set sail on a tranquil sea
Around it, a flock of albatross flew
Coniferous tree, positioned on high
God planted it there for the world to see
Poignant green color complements the sky
A hundred years old - and pretty, as can be
Each limb aligned, each leaf sublime,
Beautiful gift from God, for all to see ---
Strong and mighty, until the end of time
Symbol of life and immortality...
Atop a precipice there stands a tree,
Positioned on high for all to see!
< coniferous tree
playing peek a boo .... shuffle
candid smiles glisten
{ Christmas }
Entry For
Deborah Guzzi's
Holiday Haiku Contest
G.L. All
Coniferous Tree
newly wed bride adorned
merry shadow around
--------------------------------------------------
By Hitendra Mehta
( Entry for Members Contest - Haiku me Christmas Tree by Andrea Dietrich )
Canadian Autumn
Forests of old and new growth in constant turmoil
Are held upright by root systems filtering the soil.
Trees and saplings stretch upward in the wilderness
To absorb the sun’s rays for photosynthesis.
Stands of coniferous and deciduous trees
(Bearing green needles, and red, yellow, and orange leaves)
Bent by capricious winds, resiliently snap back straight,
And march down slopes to the edges of northern lakes.
Claiming the ground on which to propagate and grow
While roiling, whitecaps splash against the rock-stacked shores.
Where driftwood beach and animals forage for food,
Under the canopy of trees spreading out their boughs.
As temperatures drop, snowflakes fall and unite
To blanket the forests while the lakes start forming ice.
Carnage creators. Crackerbreads chats. And a wide angled grinning photographer who is having appalling dreams of incorrect information is now ironed flat. Just like a pizza base. But no bassist can ever locate a pretty floral curve in the air. Especially when the expedition notes are playing B B B E E E B E B E B E AM A A A A. That is fundamentally different to a single quack or a peck. And when the legs have become tired from stalking a petal the hair relaxes. Thus turning from an electric hay bale into a carved creation. Wow. Laughter omitted from a painting can be very dramatic if the angles of voice are in a off position. So clap the switch. And so said a speaker who was gathering alot of dust which was not pleasing for the distinguished lord dog fogram de la mangers earl of Grayson hall. Harvesting can be achieved with a colander but nit a cylinder for cylinders carry cases of coned coniferous clambering chomping chocolates. And the arrival of those chocolates is said to desensify even the most frozen of sword. Swordfish swallowing swampy seas. And a little fortress flirting and flitting with a flat framework. Hahaha a bead over there! Is magnified in a spot light. Haha spritely springing stoical shell. Hahah musk mooing. Xxxxx elephantine xxxxx alphanumeric Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z ok then. And now eat a crystalized burger with a recorded relish. Z.z£5's %0¥808, 900, 909 $2 3 1 €666, 666, 666 and boom said an android article. *#*#7% of a piccolo cloud club. Z.
A mystical mayhem is a deity left undisturbed. Yet in corrosive eras even a sharp shrapnel can shatter even the most strongest of iron souls. Interesting is it? The formations. The planned plane. The corrosive killers. Plan not a wield upon a shield. And merely hide and lounge behind a base curve. Expect no larger ten weeks of a kip is neither a lay down sausage nor is it an elongated pillow public pillow case. Haha to that. And benign is the duties of the metre long united slumber chain. Symbolised stirring sap syrup should start saving some. And of course a clam giggling and gurgling likes marble gargling in a tentative terminology. Arteries arresting attestation arbitrary are applied apples aren't they? And no beacon blob. And no born booming boiling bonnet. Oh ho ho to that. Now get up you lazy guts and start a curfew curve. Ridgeback dodge ball in a pie is an anagram of wisdom in a shy ping pong ball. And to work is to wound so to work is to want. And the disco ball reflects the antonyms and synonyms against a backdrop of high fluted time gems. Hahahahah synergistic syndrome symmetrically symbolised stirring sap syrup as aforementioned......6%6%6%6%0%0%0%0%00000%800% of a cubic metrical device. Leaping. Of course. Wow. Fantastic. Interesting isn't it and the clan of the world is a good day and night and sweet dreams of the world is full on a trip and the other side is the best thing for the purpose of the world of goo. Choo choo then in a chip shop. Xxxxxx and a hahahahahahahah deviational duties xxxxxxx catalogues cauliflowers carbonated carbohydrates xxxxxxx coniferous clambering clam xxxxxx and an interesting chat emerges from an amateur radio station broadcasting organization xxxxxx feel felony's frailing fleas frying....xxxxx carbonization z z z
I was once told a story, of the wee folk of Bensham Bog; they live in carved mushroom houses that are shaped like bullfrogs and they ensure the survival of creatures there. They travel in petrified skins of bananas and are rarely ever seen yet, they mix all of the peat moss and propagate trees. Coniferous trees like pine and spruce, larch and fir; trees that produce oxygen; negative ions for the air. Be thankful, these fey exist; if you see one at night; you’ll know because, they glow with blue light.
in the bog
trees thriving-
faeries labor
Wetlands help to keep a balance within our environment; their preservation is vital, this everyone should know. They provide iron deposits, lovely, translucent obsidian stone from which, early man, made himself tools. Flora, like water lily’s grow in bogs and thriving there, leatherback turtles, an endangered species.
a leatherback turtle swims-
crickets chirping
Our Scots botanist
Coniferous evergreen
The Douglas fir tree
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland.php
The blackbird takes off from his perch on
this lone pine in the dairy pasture, winging towards the
sky with all his might but
the pine is pugnacious and bitter, sweltering in winter. Before he
travels a league from her she drops him dead from the sky, victim of some
coniferous voodoo, some hex
or lymphoma ending him like a
matchstick.
There’s an aged Eastern cedar tree
not far from the steps of my back door.
Enormous and quite old it harbors
a full range of flora and fauna
that have sought refuge amid its arms.
I reckon it soars 60 feet high
with an amazing 30-foot girth.
In winter, frosty mist on needles–
faux snow covers its verdant branches–
although it remains green winter-long
Welcoming woody fragrance in Spring
attracts curious creatures of trees–
working tirelessly to build their homes
in the evergreen’s burgeoning boughs–
a comfortable coniferous cool residence.
The cardinals staking my feeders,
fluffed and braced against the chilling cold–
medallions, red on silvery green–
Christmas’ reverberant Friendship Tree
reminds me of friends and family.
My enduring evergreen shares its
sheltering arms and embraces all
who come, as a nurturing mother
providing food, comfort, and kindness
to any seeking safety within her.
A gentle knight chirped and roaming the way of desert at night.
His dancy browny hair, blue eyes made romantic guy and couraged.
He lured by lovely song beyond a hill.
Eagerly, he rushed his horse and fell swooned.
He lightly opened his eyes but did not movable, groaning pains.
His wounds tide with herb and bluey fungus.
A spinster, an oldman lived in this hut sitting anxious looking.
The nature of love girl sing a praying song under a coniferous.
He falls asleep and his wounds healing miracle by love.
He said many gratitude thanks and parting smiles.
The spinster missed her heart and possess a minute death.
She weaving her heart gifted garland to him with splendid love-smells.
The nightjar song impressed his love seek, find to fail.
The red war period started, as his melancholy love.
He stabed not but earning many love wounds.
His inner voice of love but fluttering dove!
He became love-sicker and also think about the bewitching voice.
Again he searched, his red wounds badly hurt.
His instinct wishes that met her love-face lastly.
He brings only thorny's love-blood at shadow night.
Dews fluttering with his worthy red-blood gently to the heaven.
He is rescued by the same spinster his heart-venus.
She takes a letter and his pleasant love-subject written with golden tunes.
Her tears of love tinkling on, the love-wounds bleeding with joyous!
She feeds him on the love's last breath of lyric but sad love-melody chill.
The worthy fairest carved immortalized their love-chapter.
If you smelled the monumental garland it described the unbelievable love-tale.
The love-origin pastoral surrounded with red grasses one touch it
amazingly love-sicker!
It’s Christmas every day at the Goodwill donation door
Where there’s so much Christmas to be given to the poor!
Where the wreaths and trees pile up in a monument to excess
Next to trophies, fine china, and bourgeois marks of success
For which I once longed in vain, and for the owners I’d defensively grown disdain,
Now in my care, I don’t even want them – they should’ve been thrown away.
When I sort through these leftovers of such accomplished lives,
I can only think of how uninformed I was to wish these shining trophies, wreaths, and trees were mine.
It’s a cruel joke . . . I once loved Christmas day for the hope it offered that my wishes would be filled one day.
I once longed for just one trophy or tree of beauty, but the shining ornaments and marks of success now given away
Remind me only of a coniferous shrub that resembled a small Christmas tree
Sawed down and taken with great guilt and fear from an unsuspecting landlord by my young mother on Christmas eve
For the sake of hanging one ornament made by me
But now all these coveted trees and adornments that were once deemed a necessity are too heavy to keep.
But nobody wants to be the one to throw them away
So they hand, dump, and throw them my way.
But I can only resent all these wreaths and trees and trophies I surely would’ve dreamed of as a child
Because they have now become nothing to me but an addition to another unreasonable pile.
When taking a stroll on a path filled with weeds the force fields are often not symmetrical nor are they aligned. But the shining synchronization of a sky lit sun cap can capsulize even the most untimed meal of a thought. Highlighting highways higher huge harboured harbours. In harnesses. Take no injected curd as a shirt. And generally imprisonment of bows and arrows is considered to be as detrimental as flying on the back of an air rifle or an a k 47. Into a bin. Ten ton heifers wobbling in dainty dresses. Passing posting pointing picking painting. And get a rolling pin, ten irons and ironing boards then iron output accordingly for to adjust a headdress is to float upside down in a force 209 gale over the side of a cliff holding one ear of corn, a basket, a little snail in a straw hat, and a 2000 foot ladle. Great isn't it. Wow. Wisdom wow. Week not a wreck. And wreckage is utilised in one single breath of an ancient storytelling form chanting in a mist. Seen and unseen. 5 b c. And then 13 52. And then 18 75 . And on an on an on and on. Whirling. Wave no kettle at a tree of iron mesh. And always make a nice carve in a cave. Wine arches marbles. Marvellous magnification isn't it. Gossiping grapes grabbing greedily. And a saintly seaweed arrives. Also in bed is an underwater charismatic chant. Charming. And one single 5 acres of a pickled onion can boil and burst. Digital dropping. Xxxxx cumbersome Cumberland Chambersburg clamp championship. And a dormant duck spinning. So rise and taste the heavily encrusted dew ball of a nice light fruit stew. Hahahahaha moon painted xxxxxxx coniferous clambering clam style ship to lighten loads and loaves talking about mixing bowls. In aisles. Xxxxxxx categorisation z z z z z no p y q but a large l and a big capital v
Written: December 28, 2023
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flounder in fictional field
—squeals and squeaks
Whimpers and growls
Sylphic swaying,
of flames spewing,
inwardly throbbing
of my nostril
lobotomized cosmic orbs.
scent of cinnamon
and coral on a rosary
interlaced of aurulent rimes.
Shrouded your burgundy &
coniferous ravines
loop of vitality
& unbearable redemption
in spanning eons,
ineffable wonder cradled
by melodic hums and buzzes
of lazy heat
and whistles of pitches
of endless hymns
echoes of choral chants
sung by soloists.
black ravens croaking,
like peals of doom
dewy allelomorphs
with waft-aloft wings
angels of ethereal whisper
of thunder,
that rang deafeningly
through the crevices,
of anodal motion
scurrilous loci
modeled as diploid.