Best Moss Poems
The phantoms of Glen Affric call
from deep within the histosol,
where time and matter’s slow decay
of misty glen and ancient fray,
conceal Mackenzie ghosts in wait
with weapons drawn to greet their fate
of claymore blade; of Celtic cross,
to shed the blood of William Ross,
and stain the sphagnum bryophyte,
his soul to cut and extradite.
Amidst the whipping hilltop squall
is heard their eerie battle call,
where shadow soldiers groan and splay
upon the hazy, darkened brae.
As well, the loose of blood and spate,
to curse the earth and consecrate,
the peat to quench; the land emboss,
forever running red the moss.
scary predictions
it shoots quickly with head spin -
checking the makeup
16/10/21
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
November Intrigue--Five Haikus
Moss breathes dampness, near
shifting blankets of old leaves.
Beds of lichen thrive.
Both pure and pungent,
the air is soul-enhancing,
gifting faint wood smoke.
On the forest floor,
Princess Pine grows sweetly
in pristine patches.
Old stone foundations
and a gurgling waterfall
capture heavy mist.
Dark reeds cross the marsh
to a long strand of young spruce,
vivid and spritely.
Dreams, they are what builds my bridges.
Pure love and togetherness,
That's all I could ever hope for.
He speaks of marriage with contempt,
With excitement and pleasure.
They say once we arrive at a certain age,
Our imagination runs dry.
Oh, how wrong they are!
As for women never outgrow it,
Their men are forever up to something.
I let mine roam free,
Decided to be my own enemy.
With time, that seed grew,
As did my enemy.
I've never once imagined,
It to leave me gasping for air,
Leaving me in an everlasting nightmare.
A conscience needing clarity,
A white picket fence now covered in moss.
hot, humid, barren
granite outcropping garden
brown moss, flowers bloom
8/3/2018
verdant lacy moss
nestles tree in loving way
ethereal entrance
Cascading ebony curls,
weave her lean oak body,
Gothic vines scatter mustard buds,
clothing her Sultan figure,
Fingers and appendages tangle in this mesh,
Droop against her sleekness,
Attemp to shun day`s life.
Underneath, bats perch dormant,
Spiders playfully weave,
Snakes await lunch,
Hypnotic Miss Spanish Moss Maiden.
Louisiana Bayou Spanish Moss
So pretty
Hanging from the cypress trees
It grows without showing its age
Never dying it controls the bayou
Hiding nest of the most beautiful birds
It has been home for countless generations
Silver grey by the light of day
It casts ghostly shadows by the light of the moon
Dreamers and poets write of its beauty
Others write of the terror in brings
It is a citizen of an ever shrinking ecosystem
Vital to the world around it
It is bound to die as the bayou shrinks around it
Does it matter to man?
No, but it does to millions of bayou animals
The ones who count on it for life
The others who use it for shelter
Where will they go?
Haiku
with borrowed feathers
the ancient tree of wisdom -
sky is the limit
In Norwegian
med lånte fjær
det eldgamle visdoms tre -
grensen - himmelen
12/01/2022
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Wake my little wood nymph, so I can cradle you in my arms.
Your innocence enthralls me. I'm enamored by your charms.
On this carpeted floor, lush with forest moss and wildflowers,
I'm tempted to make love to you, here in this secluded bower.
Your skin of porcelain beauty would make jealous any maiden.
Riches found in you, more valuable than chests with gold laden.
Luring lips stained as if by the tasting of rosy mulberry wine,
I long to lay down beside you and intimately make you mine.
Sleep easy, my little virgin, until the time of your own choosing.
Your virtue safe with me for tonight although we're both losing.
What wonders await when I glimpse the passion in your eyes.
Tis then you'll know my love for you in a look of no feign disguise.
I'll carry you to your home and accept this tender moment of loss
until the day we shall return to lie together upon this bed of moss.
a moss painted cliff
blue water dances into
a white mist below
The sun saturates the Spanish moss,
hangs from the oaks like a lacy dress
A lovely, warm grayish green under the sea,
showing every stitch in the lace, swaying like a living reef
Nature created a lace that sun nurtures and air gives water
There is a sting nestled in the moss, a gnat that bites
like the burn of fire coral
Sunlight kisses the tips of the moss with a benediction of life.
Wet moss chokes my lawn
But so delicate … lovely ~
Like dew on emeralds
After making the trip to Bar Harbor in Maine,
we set off on excursions within that domain.
In the midst of events, aggravating, arcane,
we began at a loss.
We embark on a most unpredictable task -
touring Cadillac Mountain with fog as a mask.
Fifteen hundred feet high and sh-shaking, we ask
with alarm, "Where's the bus?"
Safely back at sea level, we all need to chill -
"Tell me, who put the rest stop on top of a hill?"
Giving vent to our steam, we release it with skill
by creating a fuss.
So we cuss as we scurry, we snort and stampede
up the fifty-two steps to attend to our need.
On the zig-zag descent, rather tetchy, still teed,
we by chance run across
a botanical gem - symbiotic, we learn.
A bizarre kind of growth, some avoid with concern.
Is it algae? or lichen? a fungus? or fern?
a true whatzit for us.
I see fanciful lace mid inherent decay;
I see whimsical bubbles entangled in play.
I see change as our mood now reverses dismay -
it's an insight from moss.
**************
anapestic tetrameter
Every fourth line I change to dimeter to counteract the monotony.
Reason A. Poteet
http://wiseacre-gardens.com/moss/white-cushion-moss.jpg
ancient forest moss
camouflage fairy fungai ~
toadstool paradise