Best Leafless Poems
The life of all companies starts with an idea, much like planting a seed that begins the life of a single tree.
The tree slowly develops and occasionally produces a leaf, while all alone primarily a leafless tree.
The tree continues to grow and produce more leafs, this is quite indicative of individual growth, the makings of a vibrant tree.
Braving both the fall and winter the tree primarily remained leafless; however, prosperity occurred during the spring and summer, overshadowing what was obviously a false weakness.
Prosperity revealed itself through the production of countless more leafs -- nature's demonstration of talent and commerce, the spectacle of a completely leafed tree.
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Listen
please listen
Can you hear it
it’s the crackling
of the sparkles
in mine eyne
Need i say
more
*)
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leafless elm
dresses in shimmering frost
rhinestone tiera
For Charles Henderson's Haiku Contest:
October is crowned with glory.
She is touched with Heaven’s glow.
The seasons declare her rise to glory
Her majestic laurel-leafed crown in
magnificent display, with jeweled leaves adorned.
O northern wind, command her before thee to bow, and
cast forth her golden crown.
Lay her upon forest floors of crushed velvet brown.
Her reign deposed she now lies in November’s leafless repose
for Brian Strand's contest
1st place win
Note: some how my poem and comments were
completely erased
Don’t let the worms touch the brittle petals,
Just blow them to my empty palms
As gentle dream. I can no longer settle
Be lonely as a leafless stalk.
And coltsfoot not roses,
Just coltsfoot surround me
And nothing comes close
As close as a dream comes.
It rains all over our roofs and our raincoats
And we might fall or wither away,
I long for the time,
for the night when the moth comes
But hope for a visit of an insect less gray.
And coltsfoot not roses,
Just coltsfoot surround me
And nothing comes close
As close as a dream comes.
A role is fashioned for each of us homosapiens to portray
Though what if such a role ‘twas fashioned
by a fallacious organization of fabulists
Who decode billions of renditions of one monograph
for narcissistic purpose of monetary gain?
Naked fidelity shan’t be placed upon a hollow existence
Nor should verses be fibbed
Why can’t religion be real again?
Withered leafless trees
Clinging to old roots
Sway fearful of the wind,
Murmuring among themselves
With dull nonsense
About the rains.
The doltish deceive themselves
That winter is a prelude to the Spring.
Have they ever learned the truth
Or have they read the timeless lie
And believed it true.
Summer is its own season
Stirring the soul with its light.
The earth fragrant with decay,
Blooming as if blanched with treason.
For the buds are flowering
Now, readying for the blight.
In the beginning the end
Wasn't written, hope survived
And the brief flickering light
Held promises even in its youth
As the dead clay thickened
About the truth.
Yet so many perish,
Lost in the dimming of the light.
Even as they flower they fade,
Eunuchs to the possibilities.
Marching to the tune of
Vacant wisdom from old men
Who know nothing but
The silence of their thoughts
And the stillness of their minds.
Thus as the flames, leaping
Down the seasons and the years collide
Leave fragments that spark even the deadest eyes
I see in each face the hollow minds
And the terror behind those
Glowering facades.
The trees, in the twilight born
Among the wilderness of dead leaves
On rocky soil and outcrops of stone
Grow sickly silent as their futures, shorn
Of promises they can't beget.
And the coming years stored only with regret.
Stark leafless branches
against a steel-blue sky
hauntingly alive
Rain has laid the leaves out beside its long dead tears.
The sidewalk is sick, slick with the drowned.
The war last night between all belief systems
and daylights harsh flush of reality - is over,
finally, there is peace beneath our feet,
as heads down,
we walk above the bone-hard truth of ourselves.
A sentinel gathers a parliament
of stag, fox hare and a badger.
Birds perched on its broken limbs, quiver.
Relentless snowfall drapes its roots
like shroud.
It once held spring in its arms,
kept secrets in summer.
It laments"-I am leafless".
But they aren't here for refuge.
They are here because
some love outlasts seasons.