Best Firs Poems
O glorious Autumn of melancholic
Gold -
All abouts the brightly lit
Woodlands
Your wonderful artistry behold!
Tinted bronzes,
Darting between awkward firs
Of sobering Evergreen,
Loiter inside mauve havens
Splashed with palest yellows -
And dappled with many differing
Limes
Throughout this variegated Theme;
A myriad of rustling contentment,
Sweetest contrasting charms,
Complimentary...
Softly whispering leafy hues...
Hushed...most elegantly serene.
Bursting into the swelling copses
And invading between the
Dwindling fields:
Auburn, primrose and lilac views -
Abundant with seasons
Celebrations
That so magnificently infuse!
Glowering in simmering sunset,
And spluttering in misty dawn:
Afire with all the orbs oozing
Revelry,
That upon barkened furniture,
To thus gild - and resplendently
Adorn!
Now is the time
That dry tinkling leaves
Give musical resonance
To a breath exhaled from
A breeze...
Fanning the boughs roaring flames
That each out-stretched branch
does eagerly seize,
Fired from the eternal torch
That immortal Ceridwen tirelessly
Sought;
Whilst I hang upon evocative
Memories
That this arresting moment briefly
Caught.
Blazing with a consummate passion
Ignited from a poets grappling
Thoughts:
The Muses to this joyous splendour
Were summarily summoned
And brought;
But as elusive as the enchanting
Notes
From the intoxicating pipes of
Evasive Pan...
So as elusive the words of the
Unwritten verse
That so evade this singular man.
So burn! You gaily painted colours,
Within abandoned restrain,
Your dizzying carousel
A whirling kaleidoscope
Upon an artists ever changing frame.
Soft ochres and dappled browns
Mixed with vivid orange and crimson
Red...
Applied lavishly from the palette
Of Artemis
Over which the vibrant pastes
Are thinly spread.
A riot of pastel shades
All exploding forth -
With the raging power of a
Supernova
Of an immense, dazzling force!
All hail to the almighty:
From the devout to the Divine...
And all hail to the Grandeur
And Majesty -
Of his awe-inspiring design!
"In the echo of silence, the whispers of the Divine are heard." By Rumi
I entered the winding path into the captivating vale
Surrounded by ice-capped mountains and ancient trees
Firs, larches, redwoods, spruce, and ash, all grand
I shouted in glee: “I’m here!” All around some Echo replied.
A repetitive Echo, always vibrating and mesmerising.
What a singular sound to hear nature at its best!
I lounged beneath the shade of an old maple tree,
Where the verdant vale lay sprawled in front of me.
Balmy breezes blew through dark green trees, an Echo divine.
Tiny thrushes flitted from bush to bush.
They permeated the vale with their familiar songs.
Occasionally they rested on a dense bush,
Hush! Did I hear the song again?
Choirs of echo resounded all around the lush plateau.
Down on the majestic plain, a babbling brook meandered
Towards a clump of cottages, providing water for all.
The rivulet was a sight with fronds of ferns unfolding.
How delightful to hear the water emanating such dulcet echo
As the stream zigzagged around rocks and small waterfalls.
Every echo ended in silence profound and I was in God’s peace.
A holy hymn hummed serene: echo after echo, all divine.
Placed 1
Rainbows of Balloons
(the friendship song)
You’ll find me down by the river
skipping stones in tune
to the great firs that hum
when the soft wind touches
their tops with its light strum.
You’ll find me lost far in the clouds
where smiling blossoms
gather up in a crowd
around their conductor
who’ll guide them in a sun dance
through spring showers.
Nature with you I will celebrate
we'll write songs ‘till late, open all the gates,
so come with me today, celebrate the day,
let us sing and dance in the light rains of May.
We’ll roll down in the fields
in the middle of June
send rainbows of balloons
that will sure reach the moon.
We’ll swim down the river
when July comes around
and we will not be found
until they think we’ve drowned.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
I’ve matched the lyrics to Yiruma’s music (Springtime) in this piece.
After the musical interlude (1:30-1:58), the second musical part repeats itself
from the poem’s second stanza, not the first.
Evergreen pines
Evergreen firs,
Yellow moon size star rays shining through,
Nighttime in the forest.
Red cardinals mutter, mourning doves coo
On branches in sleep
Roosting in their wait for the morrow
To forage.
Rustling mice on decaying leaves,
A roaming cat strangely at peace with the night,
Lets the critters sleep.
So curious is he.
Big footprints sound and scrape loud whispers,
The critters get restless and noisy,
Tell each other there’s a brand new day; a human on the way,
And chattering twitters turn into joyous prattle.
Then the crescent sun of the dawn
With its holy glory on the world awakes
Rise up. little children, it’s Christmas morn.
Rise up, little children, Jesus was born.
And Santa has come to celebrate.
Spring soothes with a gentle rain
With blushing blooms we once knew
Fragrant flowers will then reign
and everything becomes new
Summer bakes with sizzling days
Many enjoy time at the beach
But heat waves can put us in a daze
As birds flit on branches of the beech
Autumn chills with cooler climes
and adorns the leaves with colorful flair
A gnarly vine on the wall now climbs
As the forest blazes a crimson flare
Winter's brushstrokes paint a snowy scene
As snowflakes land on firs
Christmas decorations can be seen
People are bundled up in furs
10-12-2022
Homophone Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Hat Bueckert
Winters magical mix,
Shimmering sky, blue,
Dazzling crystal landscape,
Firs adorned in a gala dress of white,
A chorus of snow,gently swirling,
dancing in
Winter's Rhapsody.
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.
Fantasy Spy
Would that I, like a Monarch butterfly,
Could fly across the fertile land and spy,
Top tree and lilac bush in the evening hush,
Swooping down above the late traffic crush.
Then on to foamy shores I would wander,
Over firs and pines, dark forests below,
With graceful freedom across the sunset,
Over Key West’s mansion and beach to go.
I would see a pirate ship in the sea,
Rushing rudders futilely try to flee.
Storm clouds over thatched roofs on the Goal Coast,
Colorful dancers, busy merchants’ boasts.
Would that I like a Monarch butterfly,
Could fly across our wonder world and spy
The day that followed . . .
Blossomed blue, bright . . . beautiful
Clouds towering into the heavens
Wheeling white, wonderful . . . wordless
The clouds danced in the expanse
Rolling on a sea of silence
Sailing soft, supple . . . serene
Saw nothing
Cared nothing
Floated away
Alone . . . . . blind . . . . . marvelous
mute!
The trees . . .
The trees reveled in their own wild
E m o t I o n s
Old Man Walnut – a true heart-wood
Big boned brooded black
Dark, dangerous, defiant
Lady oak took red at the edges
A deep striking flame-red
Her heart a luscious lively living green
A gentlewoman of a long experience
Patient, Peaceful, persistent and powerful
Elms burst yellow – effulgent
Cried for attention
Demanded attention
Wind whistled wantonly through her leaves
Tall, tenacious, testy, temerarious
Some of the maples slurred
A bright primary red
Like harlots laughing, listening, languishing
Showed interest but cared for nothing
The Sweetgums stood aloof
Star-shaped leaves
Like bruises oozing deep purple
At first draft
S N
T A
O K
O E
D D
Abused . . . abandoned . . .
alone
Crape Myrtles cluster together
Gossiping busy-bodies
Bursting orange with outrageous desire
Watching, wanting, waiting, wanton
Modest were the Aspens
Slender and graceful
Giggling trees
But where they were
They were so many
They could afford to be
Modest, monomorphic, musical, memorable
The Pines and firs
Raising forth green among the colors
Unchanging
Unwilling to change
Criticizing by their contrast
every other change
The Woods
The woods
The chaotic woods
The heartless forest
And the trees . . .
. . . . .The boughs, leafs, limbs, roots
That whole glorious community
Simply went about its
Natural business
Another day in creation.
Live and Love Generously
Follow me and walk down an avenue of Firs
To my Log Cabin you'll view, I'm sure you'll concur
Overlooking Loch Ness, look in the fields you'll see
A herd of beautiful Reindeer roaming so free
But it's when you look around, my world glistens
It started by walking to here, footsteps to listen
Crunching, crunching, crunching, white virgin snow
Where here it's normally dark, now it's all aglow
As we turn the corner many colours in radiate
Glistening amidst the white kaleidoscopic drape
Then to the cabin we view, lanterns of every colour
Hanging in joyful sway never outdoing each other
As we draw nearer through the arched window I see
So beautiful in adorn, a most lovely Christmas Tree
Through the door we enter, Sleigh Bells in the Snow
It's at this time of year, so many many smiles show
.
I dare to hope and dream,
Of flowers that never fade
Of splendid and exotic creatures
All living in perfect harmony.
I dream of tranquil earthly paradise,
A keen euphoric garden of Eden,
Created by my one and true Lord.
Alas that man sinned and now
The garden of Eden is closed.
So let us together embark upon a journey,
In earnest search and ardent expectation
Of peace and love and blissful pleasure.
Let us travel down a mighty river
In a small pirogue, winding its way
Along the fern lined banks
Admiring the Cyprus and the tall pine trees.
The river turns into a valley,
Where mighty willows weep and dip
Their lower branches in the fresh icy stream.
All around, we smell the scent of flowers,
Butterflies with gossamer wings
Flit untiringly from bloom to bloom
While insects seem to have composed
A lively concert of their own.
We hear the music of the song birds,
Especially the multicolored martin pescador,
Finches practicing their fine tunes
to serenade the attractive female mate.
We spy warblers, sparrows, and orioles
Dancing from branch to branch
Or birds of prey soaring over the ancient firs
Trying to catch some unsuspecting fish
That swims beneath the calm surface
Of a smooth and tranquil lake.
Such magic moments mesmerize our senses,
As we witness the birth of day.
We find ecstasy in Our Lord's creations.
His wondrous hand enhances nature,
Fascinates our spirit with uninhibited joy
Expanding the joyous hope for all humanity.
SCENERY TO PAINT
Every day we reviewed them in parade attitude
Along the Snake River in the Tetons’ solitude,
Or at attention on the banks of the Volga
In the infinite taiga -
In neat ranks along river terraces
Warm dark firs mixed with yellow acer,
All with the wind slowly leaning,
Their branches across the river-ice signalling
To great endless squadrons of their fellows :
In spring with their full flowers - yellows :
An army in a gold and topaz uniform
Ready and waiting for orders to fall in and conform ;
And in fall with their rich golden foliage
Always polished and ready for duty with courage.
In poor soil, in tough climate, these were heroes
Prepared for all their tomorrows.
Each morning we watched “Reveille” parade
In the dawn’s early light; and the evening shade
Gave “taps” for that heroic multitude -
The taiga’s topaz army, in golden solitude.
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Written by Sydney Peck
Entered in Tracie ~*~ Indigo Dreamweaver's Contest ...Paint the world...
When the going gets tough
A fond retreat awaits
Where firs and pines nestle
Yearning for an embrace,
A sigh, and a deep breath
Bathing in dappled light
And warmth of gratitude.
Mediums of Winter parse
translucent runes on the tines
of sloping firs basking like mallards
in March's brusk sunshine.
Arctic oracles echo on the lake's hard sapphire
with pearl crests punctuating
Spring's arrival while cat tails exclaim
nascent umber banks. As teals float
in a tarot of amulets tanagers preen,
imbuing remnant frost with scarlet omens.
As fresh snowflakes swirled out the azure sky,
Snapshots of nature were such a delight.
Mr. Winter sang songs and winked his eye,
Covering the ground in a lovely white.
Douglas Firs are adorned with nature's clothes.
Mountain tops look dazzling this time of year.
Then gentle winds roam the land in repose,
Such a pleasant and serene atmosphere.
Next, the sun sets and says hi to the moon,
Then snow ascended on the ocean blue.
They become one, flowing in perfect tune,
As a colorful fish, were passing through.
Nature puts on such a mind-blowing show.
Just Viewing it will set your heart aglow.
Alexis Y.
12-20-2020