Best Junipers Poems
can you taste the w i n d . . .
evergreens . . . junipers . . . furs
love upon the tongue
In memory of Chief Seattle of the Duwamish League of Puget Sound
David Meade
Live Generously
"I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart) I am never without it..." E.E. Cummings
Hello my dearest darling, it was our time to wake,
The rustic rooster had already roused my reverie,
Heralding the dewy dawn
Of our new great day.
For I could never live without you.
I yearned for your presence all the time.
Everywhere in the countryside was peace
And crowned with our steadfast love
With the sound of nurturing nature.
As I lay on our comfy broad bed,
I looked at my still-slumbering wedded wife.
Her fragrant freckled face looked on so serenely,
A soft sweet smile hovered on her luscious lips
So peaceful and fair,
As if she were amid many pleasant placid dreams
So I could not bear to wake her up and spoil
Her various favorite fantasies.
Suddenly her emerald eyes fluttered wide open,
And saw my boyish grim smiling seductively at her.
She grabbed my head and lowered me on her lips
That smell of lavish lavender filled my nostrils.
This was a harmonious heaven on earth.
Later we went down for our favorite food,
We rode our bikes and pedaled hard,
Admiring the snow-capped mountains that rose far.
Cedars, larches, and junipers adorned the steep slopes
Where eagles, kites and vultures flew
Searching for their potential prey.
Whilst on the grassy picturesque plain,
Warblers, thrushes and orioles
Twittered their serenade symphony songs.
Finally, we arrived at my Taverna
And beckoned the masterful Manager.
Heard the required report on the gains I made.
Everything was smooth
For I wear my enchanting emotions up my sleeve.
We idled the dreamy day away,
Hugging and kissing most of the time.
Partook of a delicious dinner for two,
But at closing time we went back home,
To a well-needed restful rural repose
In each other’s enticing embrace.
Placed 1st
When the smoky quartz sun
slumbers into a cold winter,
we see the aftermath of a garnet twilight,
it is then, we find rose stars
that refuse to abandon us in shivering solitude,
and beneath snake-skinned skylines of nadir,
we learn to appreciate
the truest colors of nature……
Hope is but a hollow rope,
hanging loose on empty lies~
splattered across eclipsed skies,
and this aching heart sighs,
singing to the fallen flowers,
fading into depths of
black-magic silence,
for peace is a distant memory,
frozen within pixelated Polaroids
of poignant pain.
I remember the night
I was unplugged and strangled
in toxic tremors,
slipping into fatigued negligence,
too tired of fighting a
battle with no prudence,
but no one hears the unspoken,
amidst the tears that
croon in tragic tunes.
Now my mind is a muted mausoleum;
weathered and withdrawn,
impregnated with deceased dreams~
and remnants embalmed in poison ivy.
Yet diabolical thoughts
keep whirling
through funeral chaos,
to cloak my conscience in
a glass casket of sleepless uncertainties,
smothering the last breath I held.
I do not seek an orchard
blooming with butterfly orchids
and pristine pansies,
yet, somehow, I am the wrinkled
willow~
awaiting dancing rays
of diamond twilight.
Perhaps this is how a poet grieves,
writing epitaphs with
bloodstained ink,
when familiar faces are
clothed in ivory farewells,
to rest amongst the forgotten,
away from the cruelty that creeps.
I know not the synonyms for healing,
the poems I’ve woven beneath
starry skies now flow undone,
and I am burning,
in my crippling confusion,
pondering why the sun is now
a curse in disguise,
why do I long to walk
through forests of ruins,
where the mauve moon was,
when insomniac
instruments of galaxies
strummed broken strings
of feathered fate.
So take this poem, weave these words
it into the final line
of tasteless satires,
streaming in the
rhythm of zestless zenith,
for I have no desire to
pretend and play,
or swirl and sway
when all I knew now is a
melancholic mystery untold.
So listen to the rhapsody of tears~
I am a frazzled firefly,
eloquently tangled in the
ruthless roots of jinxed junipers.
My
Mind
Melts
Orange
Scattering butterflies
Singing with iridescent
Chameleons
First aqua green, then
Revolution
Clubbing twilight with both
Fists, gulped by gallons
Of planets
Parading
As thoughtless trees
Overbearing junipers
Crowding the galaxy
With shrinking
Wisdom
Unafraid of red
Ants
Colonizing advanced
Mountaintops
Millions
Of miles
Inside
My
Mind
08/08/13
© All Rights Reserved
Angels in furs so white
Brave voices as cool as sprite
Cheeks so red or pink
Delights your day without a wink
Endless care reserved for you
Flocking in troupe over you
Giggling over rainbows of you
Halos in head that cover you
In miles and miles they travel far
Junipers like trees watching your jar
Kept in jar, your fallen stars
Love in heart without scars
Moments in life they praise so loud
Novels of time you read aloud
Out of the blue angels come to life
Paints of you in real life
Quetzalcoatl may scare you
Remember angels are there for you
Serenading the depths of you
Telling stories of me and you
Under your pillow is a dream come true
Velvets and sashes that wrap in you
White you wear is your skin deep
Xisti of true colors you keep
Your white angels of time on grip
Zooming with God you trip
Away dashes the last frigid brush of winter
Beauty cannot wait to rise and greet the sun
Crocuses are first to break through barren soil
Daffodils display their lacy, yellow petals next
Even the iris is beckoned by warmth
Fragile blooms pray another frost will not come
Gardenias bestow their sweet aroma
Hibernating forsythias wake to grace the garden with gold
In these early weeks of spring
Junipers need time to develop fruit
Kindling and firewood are laid aside
Lovers saunter through gardens
Magical kisses are shared beneath the draping willows
Nests appear high in tall trees
Oaks are filled with robins and blue jays
Peace is found in a hike through the woodlands
Quickly, a red fox darts across the trail
Rabbits are his prey
Squirrels shake their fluffy, furry tails
Total bliss is found in nature’s rebound
Upon the trellis vines are sprouting
Violet morning glories wake to greet sunrise
Winter must remain dormant for nine long months
Xylem carries nutrients to thirsty leaves
Yearlings with dotted hides emerge from forests to graze
Zigzagging among bushes, hummingbirds joyfully welcome spring
*Written February 21, 2015
Resting Under My Favorite Old Tree
Lucky bird sings a jolly little tune
of ravishing sunshine in late June
Graced by soft breeze to give a thrill
among the junipers on lakeside hill
I stop my journey into Nature's treat
to breathe in this melody so sweet
Well trodden path leads me on down
into a wilderness far, far from town
Birds fly and scared rabbits race away
as if I did not also come just to play
Hawk flying low gives me a great view
offering acrobatic stunts right on cue
Fish flopping in clear flowing stream
day so wonderful, feels like a dream
As the large blue lake comes into view
afternoon sun tells me time really flew
Now to rest under my favorite old tree
a bit of good food and a nap is key
Then back up the path to my sweet home
God, it is so great to thru Nature roam!
Robert J. Lindley
I fly through the trees, my eyes fixed on a cup
of water
That drifts
between Heaven & Hell, since
smiling drugstores sell ice
cream for
cancer, until midnight captures
stars reflecting
The Carny's bark of deliverance, while
mice sleep for
centuries, as
Wagons circle around junipers, parched jasmine
lays
forgotten until
reports of muskets shake power, absent 'till gold
surrenders to floating
Shards of glass, speaking mystical tongues from
mouths of
Mustangs trampling
religion that heralds Cathedrals of Angels-
voices, my Grandfather promised
tomorrow
voices,
my Grandfather
promised
tomorrow
Summer came crashing down like a thunderhead
Hordes of children released from their brick prisons
My young eyes watched out the passenger window
Our yard, brown spots and all, I loved it
The way we ran, the sprinkler cackling in the background
Voices hoarse from delighted screams, evening bubbles by
Blades of grass stick to my heel, and I dream of junipers
They line the front of our house, protecting it from monsters
I want to take that particular green and paint my life with it
Over again, just once more, standing next to the street
Rubbing the needles between my fingers, sticky with life
The evergreen balm sparkles through my senses
Stirring up magic and stories about the high sea
Night time comes and my memory stands tall
The curtains in my bedroom billow like sails
And outside, the castle wall still stands
Turtle tuning tap. Or a turtle beach. Organisational skills are rife in a sea horn. But duties of a seahorse are to prepare the vast banquets which can spread for many miles over many an ocean floor. Diva divinatory code. Mannequin. A depersonalization of a dragged out pully in a yard brush there lies a hymn. Bacon backwards bringing Belorussian bellowing bison. And a twirling fairy leaning in a breeze. Laughing. Loving. A bistro is a capable source of enlightening entertainment. Particularly when the veil is attuned to a set formation of marble architecture. Oh hahahaha sweep swept sweltering sweat swim. How rather remarkable it is to witness a concrete chatting to a house or a hotel. Such ease. Such divulging. But a diversion is neither a division nor a dilemma. So place several serving dishes in a neat line. Preferably near a basin ship. And a mason is neither a basin nor a painting. Pop a pop a seed ho bang bang bang and cry to the wailing watery Mystical moons who come to eat and consume for to consume is to carry cones around. Hahaha jumping junipers hahahahaha steel stacked sepia straws. And a deal. Xxxxx rest not rant. Xxxxx vertical optical illusion xxxxx 900 bikinis 'on a dust trail. Course created centre. And a very tired bean grinning half asleep in a hammock. Xxxxx epicenter epic. X philanthropy x gravitational z
I left the village and trudged towards the small wood,
Junipers, covered with berries that looked so good.
It was an inviting place many knew about
It was luck I found it, few cared I have no doubt.
In the middle, a pond cherished by lots of fish,
Around willow Norway Spruce which was my true wish.
And on the face of the water, large leaves floated,
With white, yellow and purple lotus promoted.
I sat on a rock, watching some birds as they flew,
Elated as the solitude around me grew.
On the other side, a small bridge led to my place.
I had to admire her neat walk, her lovely face.
She quietly sat down beside me, full of bliss.
I leaned slowly towards her and gave her a kiss.
In that inviting place who could ignore delight
I was ready to give her my all heart outright
In that silence, she lay on my shoulder, her head.
In blissful solitude, never a word we said.
1 March 2023
Place 1
Writing Challenge - I Words - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
I planted the Daffodils in the hills,
You were thrilled as daffodil flowers bloom,
Amonst the sunny summer fields,
Our room filled with perfume of golden yellow,
With view of dew crystals cover the meadows.
Oh joy....
You planted the Jasmine along the fences,
I loved the scent of white night flowers,
Our lives are entwined, two lovers devined, smitten by love.
I planted the Cypresses along the paths,
Across the way from the garden arches,
Amongst the white Jasmine arbors,
And blue Sweet Lavenders near the Junipers.
You were thrilled at the sights of yellow and gold,
Our hearts growed and filled with joy,
Amongst the pretty flowers and brown soils,
We toiled and planted in the sun.
Raindrops mist turn to showers in the early fall,
Water fills the swollen creek,
You were thrilled at the Golden Poppies,
Red bright petals peeked at the morning sun,
Amidst the sound of swishing hummingbirds,
Perching on the sweet vines of Morning Glories.
Spring came with her rain, it's drenching,
Pouring droplets and wet my face,
Rain water fills the over flowing brooks,
Storybooks of river runs in the sun,
Storms and vast gray skies whirlwind,
Amid the freshness, the signing of my heart,
As the Winter cold chill is over,
So far vast above the horizon.
Those Flowering Quints with Cinnamon mints,
Giving Spring mist blisses in mid Summer,
All over the garden, the flowers sprang,
All that then was consumed by my heart,
Green and blue the hues on facade turns,
As water churning, dancing in the pond.
You planted the Jasmine along the fences,
I loved the scent of all the fragrances,
Our lives are enriched and smitten then,
Amongst the herbs and flowers show,
In the middle of Daffodils meadows,
As you promised to love me so,
To no end .... 'til eternity.
Jieranai (Jeri) Maier
May-December @2003
4% mnm
Mountainous syllables can never really tread lightly across a rope bridge. But living in a cabbage house is fantastic fun for many leaves make many rooms and many rooms make much rubbish. Don't trip over the staircases. Nor the bins. Nor the fireplaces. Be safe in an oceanographic breeze. It is often wise to counter count. And never leave a leaf door ajar. Ok? Good. Fodder not a fried fish. Especially when driving a forklift truck. Ponder not the wonder of a damsel on a butterfly couch. How very sedate! But neither seductive nor secretive for serpentines are often deceptively shark like. Particularly when partially shaded by a curtain. Pull shut then open to reveal. Wow such revelational defects. How quite ornate. And a man in a suit with a small briefcase is often as round as a round house. No spring in a portly framed partridge. But carrying a cartridge through the airspaces can bring a ship to life. Smiling. Waves kiss the sides. And sailors play swan lake on harmonicas and violins for the dusk often brings dust. And to halt is to delay only for points are gained by talking treadmill like in large halls with lecterns'. Drink then. Capsicum rice flavoured juice creates much lemon spittle. How rather remarkable are the quotes from the pickled saged cavern dwellers in yachts awaiting the demise of development. The continuation of a fluctuation is a fascination for a fattened form. And so the bead arrives on slightly bended knee in a small sixteenth century chapel. Hum not a tune of trotting uniforms and hooves. No haha to that. It is merely a zero percent of a demonic deficit sweep. Swimmingly seemingly surpassing swamps. And a door swinging happily. Haha jumping jamming junipers. Hahaha statutory static void. Hahahaha xx pea leap. Xxxxx monopolistic Z with the p y q. 89.0. Xzx
All around
birdies bicker
cats creep
doggies dig
every evening.
flowers flirting,
greening grass,
heather hedging
invading insects
juicy junipers.
keening kin
life lost,
mournful mending
nurture needed.
ominous omens,
praying penitent
quietly quaking
redemption rendered.
sweet scents
tease, tickle
unarm ugliness
vivacious violets
warmly witness
xeroxed xanthous.
yonder yawn
Zany zinnia!
Night falls upon the
wooded lake shore,
I hear Minerva’s child calling;
echoes through the trees
tell me that the
nightlife is awake.
Through my tent flap,
the glimmering dance
of fireflies,
fills the night wood.
Blue whispering waters
are singing to the moon;
I shiver from the frosty
tweak upon my skin;
gazing up at the starlight
that filters through
the junipers and evergreens.
I look over the ensure that the
fire is completely out,
fresh trout is always a delight
and my stomach is happy tonight.
I snuggle down into my sleeping bag,
my dog, Hillbilly-Blue, at my side;
there’s nothing quite as refreshing
and sweet as a Springtime camping trip.