Best Conifers Poems
Mum sat in her aromatic garden,
admiring its charm and grace.
It was a cold morning,
but mum never seemed to feel it any more.
Her eyes were tired, life's adversities had taken their toll,
yet the smallest things filled them with joy.
Like the perennial ivory lilies blossoming
among her loyal, royal forget-me-nots.
The tranquil scents of lilac lavender,
blooming among radiant Jerusalem sage,
always made her smile.
Her hands were wrinkly, but resilient,
despite years of hard work as a single mother.
Still strong enough to tend to her grandiose display
of ruby red, aureolin yellow and puce pink roses.
Mum always told me the thorns were like knights -
there to protect the rose's fragility.
That a woman is a man's most precious flower,
requiring tender care and appreciation.
Evergreen conifers parade along the perimeter of
my lovely mother's garden, like a colony of soldiers,
protecting a beautiful, yet delicate,
Japanese cherry blossom tree.
Mum always told me it reminded her about life,
how everything was temporary, just like its fragile buds,
that only blossomed in the spring and
how the lightest breeze blew them away.
Mum taught me so much and was my inspiration,
picked me up when I was defeated,
taught me that only in defeat do we learn.
When the world tried to change me,
taught me to accept myself,
to love myself before I could love others
and be true to who I am.
As I sat with mum admiring the beauty of the seeds sown,
melancholic tones flooded my emotions,
wondering how I would cope without her.
Was I selfish wishing to die before her,
so I would not have to mourn for her,
but it would be so heartbreaking
for her to mourn for me.
My contemplation was interrupted by an outbreak of rain.
Mother simply smiled and said:
"Rain is mercy from God, my son."
Written 26 February 2016
Categories:
conifers, mother, mother son,
Form:
Free verse
F l y i n g
a sailing tailwind
in cerulean streams
through creamsicle colored beams -
are wings reflective of turquoise truth
and white purity
of Autumn’s ether -
he aviates
a clear troposphere
riding an unbridled
capricious and combative
boreas
on the cusp
of a new season
with a plumage infusion
of shifting Cape Cod skies
the blue jay mixes hues
with the Northern azure
that fades to shades
of turmoil
to the South and East -
becoming lost
in its milky breadth..
its lilting light..
its dimming depths..
where the edge of rustic rural
meets the sandy ridge of conifers - crooked
twisted and back-bent
from gales
of salt-sprayed sorcery
bold bluster
leading the charge
of a cold sapphire crest
is bedeviled
by the raw
tongue-lashing spin
of a brooding onshore flow
twirling
a brewing brawl -
whirling
in slate pearlescent space -
s w i r l i n g
with the dusky feistiness
of stormy petrels..
mobs of darkening fog
fatten
on summer’s fainty surrender —
leftover tints of tender cornflower
and hints of dainty dove..
there’s a sparkle
in the eye of the storm..
his mischievous black gaze
mirrors
the harsh harbinger
of commotion
clash and change --
his piercing “jay-jay” jabs
the maddening mayhem
of menacing air
with the emerald-needled sharpness
of wind-weary pitch pines
anchoring
the beige of coastal dunes
where his refractive blues
take cover
in colorful contrast
ahead
of the bruising
October nor’easter
Categories:
conifers, autumn, bird, blue, conflict,
Form:
Free verse
If I have the time, I’ll wait eons, to greet you in scarlet dawn
As you marvel its vermillion garb embossing marigold arc
Emanating golden sparks, piercing hazy contours of dark
While gilded ripples glisten pond, where floats a snazzy swan.
Listen I’ll, to the music of morn, in songs of gentle breeze
Quivering new growth on barren trees where chickadees sing
Shedding dread of winter, in adoration of vibrant spring
As you thrill in waltzing hills, where green conifers wheeze.
Ambling through idyllic meadows of my coveted dreams
I’ll emerge in gilt-sunshine on silken petals glinting dew
Where pink and purple rosy blooms enliven to enchant you--
Meeting you where giggling streams glitter in amber beams.
By your side in a quiet spot, I’ll watch the sparrows fly by
Hopping from branch to branch in euphoric random dance
Scurrying suddenly in curvy flight, inviting your glance
Celebrating freedom, flying high, into expansive blue sky,
And compose a chapter of doting allegory in romantic glory
Lingering in hearts where cadent verses of desires sway
Turning up the tempo, letting life’s ravishing rhythms play
As hours and days accumulate slowly, into eternal love-story.
December 17, 2019
Placed 1st: If you have the time for an enclosed rhyme poetry contest
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
HM: Strand select 10 contest by Brian Strand
Categories:
conifers, imagery, love, nature,
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme
Oh let my soul flee
To the purple mountains
Where poetry breathes—
Where dawn’s shadows
Move silently with the sun.
Let my eyes feast on
Dew drops and Scottish broom
With its golden bloom.
Let the fresh scent of conifers
Satiate and restore my soul
As it soars with the wayward wind
Where verses resplendent
And timeless intertwine
With the glorious divine.
© Connie Marcum Wong
8-8-17 rev.
Mountains contest 7th placement
Sponsor: Julie Rodeheaver
Categories:
conifers, mountains, nature, poetry,
Form:
Light Verse
Where conifers gaily waltz tempos evergreen
Unspoiled by human deeds, pure, and pristine,
Eagles soar there, spanning freedom wings
And trees gently whisper to rhythmic bird trills
Echoing grey owls, blue jays, robins, crossbills,
Hopping, jumping, circling, frolicking in breeze
Reveling with hatchlings, feeding on berries
As sun rays filtering-in on wildflowers glow
Oscillating shadows in gusting, windy, woes
Amidst bears’ huffs, woofs, raging ugly growl
When raccoons coyly snarl at foxes’ feral-howl
Hiding from pitter-patter of tropical rainfall
In heavenly paradise as birdsongs toll daylong
Serenading the land where liberty is paramount
In forest of my dreams’ blossoming sanctuary~
A temple, a hideaway, a refuge, an ecosystem,
A reserve for humanity, a shrine for sanctity,
In equilibrium, edifying calmness and peace
Where elixir of sacred life flows in holy streams
Sustaining earth’s renewal in tranquil harmony.
April 17, 2021
Placed 3rd: In the forest of my dreams premium contest
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
Placed 1st: All yours (Apr 24) contest
Categories:
conifers, environment, inspiration, rainforest,
Form:
Verse
Mountains come alive;
deer, trout and conifers thrive. . . .
Springtime’s scenic drive.
As ridges grow dry -
climb the verdant trails toward sky. . . .
Hear the eagle’s cry.
Cooler, shorter days -
highland’s gold and crimson blaze. . . .
My nostalgic gaze.
Snow-capped giants loom.
At the peak of winter’s gloom. . . .
I await spring’s bloom
For the Mountains Poetry Contest of Julie Rodeheaver
Categories:
conifers, nature,
Form:
Haiku
We are the high altitude sentinels.
Our small groves freckle the high plains.
We keep to ourselves, mostly
upon the snow burdened peaks
where our ashen trunks blend
and our barren branches cling
to icy white glitter.
As the breath of winter ebbs
we watch the crystal spring run-off
growing ever greener with envy
of how it races down the hill; babbling.
We whisper this to one another
in the crisp mountain air, solemn
as we keep watch.
From our station on the precipice
we behold fully the majestic sun
revering at dusk how it paints the sky.
In the failing warmth of autumn,
we offer in turn, our own reflection of
magnificent golden sunset skies
in our shimmering yellow foliage.
We keep company with pines,
firs, spruces, and other prickly sorts.
Conifers aren’t social, which suits us
as we keep mostly to ourselves.
Sentinels must remain vigilant, after all,
watchful for approaching danger.
We quake from paranoia, probably.
Our bark is pale, above all, for fear.
We’ve seen your kind before.
Your kind we watch most carefully.
If you look close, you will see
from our thousand dark eyes
we always look closely back at you.
Are you dangerous?
08/21/15
Submission for contest: Trees Personified
Hosted by: Charlotte Jade Puddifoot
*I loved the aspens when my family would go camping in the high Uinta mountain range in Utah. They are beautiful and they can grow at such high elevation (above 10,000 ft) it's really amazing.
Categories:
conifers, autumn, earth, nature, sun,
Form:
Personification
another day in the woods. on Strawberry ridge
looking out over undulating green hills to
the next great wall of mountains. the last
morning clouds left from last night's storm
hanging in the valley mistily. the sun eventually
burns them away.
the respect between old Paul Karlsen and I continues
to exist. even though he's a Mormon and I'm a fallen
New Yorker. the work is comparatively easy, lifting
hundred pound bags, so you can just imagine what
we do other days. in fact, it's fun, especially for
young Bates. we get all white (and our lungs dusty).
on the way to and from the work site I read
in Silent Spring, the chapter against herbicides, gathering
inspiration for the upcoming controversy. in the end
perhaps I'll be fired for refusing to lay down Tordon
beads. realizing this, as I drive with Bates,
I see the dark green conifers and begin to miss them.
Rocks and rattlesnakes, bluebells
and mountain daisies, grasses and cactuses, mahogany
bush, lodgepole pine and quaking aspen, lush forest
and dry sun-tortured mountainside, wind and seed
carried by wind, ants, streams, hummingbird
and hawk, deer, badger, ground squirrel, wolverine.
Categories:
conifers, day, green, inspiration, morning,
Form:
Verse
The Mountain –
I climb between a foothill
And its craggy legs. Self will,
See me through
Where few have forged before,
Higher than the hawks explore
And higher than my clouded view.
I must not fail, there must be more!
I go
IN SEARCH OF THE MEANING OF LIFE
Beauty Most Rare –
Days past the conifers below,
Green fur upon the snow.
A lone bloom
Higher, fighting through the drift
And higher, I kiss this fragile gift.
The petals bruise and fall against the gloom.
Beauty most rare, your death is swift.
Ah no,
You Do Not Hold The Meaning Of Life
Wisdom –
Time blurs within this wintry void.
Hand here, foot there, my wits employed,
This is the way
Higher, my path within my eyes
And higher, I pause and realize
This is not wisdom hard at play,
My quest is far from wise.
Ah no,
You Do Not Hold The Meaning Of Life
Love –
My need yearns to drink her scent.
Such longing rues the quest’s ascent.
I must push on!
Higher, she waves beyond my reach
And higher, this love begins to teach
‘Though loved ones may be gone,
They live within the hearts of each.
I wonder,
Perhaps You Hold The Meaning Of Life
Holiness –
The climb has all but claimed my life.
I only see my home, my wife.
A cave ahead?
Higher, I see the open door
And higher, he sits upon the frozen floor.
I ask for truth. He lifts his head
And laughs, “We live, we die.” And nothing more?
Ah no!
You Do Not Hold The Meaning Of Life
Friendship –
Higher, I must steel my will
And higher, I fall and feel no chill.
The quest is lost!
The mountain peak and dreaming blends…
I waken in the hands of friends
Who followed me despite the cost.
On you my breath depends!
Ah, yes
You Hold The Meaning Of Life!
Categories:
conifers, friendship,
Form:
Rhyme
Tufted white-tops
on pale beige staggered-stalks,
the coneflowers crowns
dressed the perennial bed;
leaning precariously against
the conical mushroomesque birdbath.
Snow, soft and wet wrapped the grape arbor like ermine;
making trellises reminiscent of Kanji on a blank page.
Fragile, frozen, flowers hung decoratively,
from frail clematis twined about cedar posts.
Brittle brown maple leaves, left behind by autumn;
drag branches draped,
as in bridal lace to the frosted tarp;
defying winter to do what fall could not.
Conifers cried under the weighty white down.
Their limbs straining not to crack, surrender,
snapping to attention as the day warms.
The snow plops pleasantly to the ground.
Winter waits patiently as the garden dreams.
Categories:
conifers, seasons
Form:
Free verse
The Ballad of John Muir Woods
I squint at the splendid morning sun
golden filtered bright rays conveyed.
Speaking they say, sit, little one
rest a spell in our noble shade.
I squint at this forest of titans
sitting, I wait for more whisperings.
They weigh my thoughts across the breeze
you are part of our air, they sing.
Youth returns in kaleidoscopes
sprightly green patterns swiftly shift.
Tinged golden from morning’s new hope
their harmony in sea breezes drift.
These conifers sprout from stump and boast
wildness, our need is undisputed.
Redwoods, the glory of Cali’s coast
engage me and call me beloved.
DE Fullerton
Categories:
conifers, earth, green, love, nature,
Form:
Ballad
a brown and curling maple leave hangs suspended mid-air
in the clearing by the lake, transfixed by the view and kindness
woven within the web it watches the rain fall
within the transparent lace-like web, it curls inward
its only movement seems a solemn gesture of reverence
with its last bit of I it sighs, what better place to die
shielded from the gentle rain within the prayerful curl of sable leaf
the spider waits for the Autumn wind to tear them free, to fly ... on
to see the conifers green among the forest's rise
brisk winds rent the leave from loom and upward rise the pair
a spider spinning on the sable leave of maple anchored by a strand
as we our spirits torn, are reborn, within the clutch
the center holds sound its claim nature's umbilicus, man
like the spider's leaf born flight, we seek on unknown winds to rise
gentle the breeze or harsh the Fall's feverous gale, still … we rise
First Published in Fall Legends - Kind of a Hurricane Press 2013
Categories:
conifers, adventure,
Form:
Sijo
Two hawks aloft
crows anxious banding together
neighbor comes over to my croft, likes the warm weather, November
a California Christmas and maybe species will migrate to reflect that,
paints watercolor ornaments, gentle Jewish lady
how far from her past is she now? or is she quite aware just not talking
about it now
I wonder what she thinks the solution to Israel-Palestine might be
ask her sitting around the pool next summer
almost always disappointed people haven't given the single state solution
more thought
we discuss Thanksgiving, the cleaning and cooking before and the
cleaning after, then the insane Christmas potlatch
deciduous trees have a special winter beauty, conifers among them.
Categories:
conifers, beauty, christmas, color, jewish,
Form:
Free verse
A grove of embers,
Destroying conifers dreams:
Searing foliage.
Categories:
conifers, nature,
Form:
Haiku
As he wears his golden crown
He forages frantically.
The goldcrest alights, he touches down.
He wears his crown magnitoquently.
"Fee hee hee" he chirps rapidly
A spider, the goldcrest consumed;
From its web he had plucked it away.
His excited search for food then resumed,
He must eat to survive another day.
The diminutive bird hopped from bough to bough
In search for food he scoured the tree.
His search of the tree was thorough
and fruitful;he had enough to eat.
"Fee hee hee" he sang satisfied
Next, the bird went to the forest floor.
Surrounded by altitudinous conifers,
He noticed on the ground were insects galore
which he closely monitored.
The beetles and earwigs and ants and lice
were building and crawling and swarming.
The goldcrest once and twice and thrice
swallowed an ant with no warning.
"Fee hee hee" no more did he hunger;
His body was warming
"Fee hee hee" he sang from the tree
as he sat on a prominent perch.
So much the little bird could see
from the top of the high-reaching larch.
As dusk fell, he remained on the plant;
He listened to the woodpigeons croon.
The very next day he would feast on more ants
........He drifted off into a sloom
By Sean Martin-Byrne
Categories:
conifers, bird, insect, nature, onomatopoeia,
Form:
Ballad