Best Mossed Poems
Deep in a green forest place,
where all creatures interlace,
among the lush all embrace,
while mossy vines grow and twine in swirls !
A tiny frog is leaping,
landing on a leaf creeping,
on a silent pond sleeping,
till' a thump sends his leaf into twirls !
A small butterfly is lost,
on a floating thing is tossed,
frog is looking like a leaf mossed,
reflected in water their leaf whirls !
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March 18, 2022
Poetry/Rhyme/Lind30 Rhyme/Green Reflections
Copyright Protected, ID 03-1440-746-18
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, Lind30 Rhyme
sponsor, Chantelle Anne Cooke, Judged04/13/2022
First Place
Categories:
mossed, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
How Many?
That night within the garden lost,
How many tears were spent
In search of love at any cost?
How many hearts were rent?
Sin for a sin the coins were tossed!
How many lusts were vent
To quench the unrelented--mossed?
How many paid a cent?
In destination's final dross,
How many souls repent--
Escaping payment with The Cross?
How many knew Him sent?
~deborah burch©10/21/2006©
re-post 4/21/2012
Categories:
mossed, allegory, faith, forgiveness, introspection,
Form:
Quatrain
Wind-gathered winter leaves hide the worn
Inscription; the birth, the death the epitaph
On show for all who take this path
To know Sir John is buried here
Beneath his coat of arms.
This baronet, the eigth in line,
Esteemed to serve his king or queen,
A gentleman of East India's refined
Who sojourned and often richly dined
At home in Berkley Square
Now companion to the chafer, the cadys,
And the countless creeping crawling things,
While passers by have come and gone
Without admiring glances
Since eighteen thirty one.
To line the row beside sir John
Writ great and good in Portland stone
The largest slabs bear names long gone:
A Thomas and a William, an Elizabeth
And a James.
The births, the deaths and all the
Dear belovedness, now mossed
And mildewed, chafed by morning frost,
And slimed by creeping slugs across
Each cold grave table top.
But there by winter's Flowering Cherry
Near Purple Hazel and Norway's Maple
Beside the yew with scarlet berry,
Stands a smaller upright stone,
Beloved daughter to John and Mary.
Eliza Rose, just fourteen years of age:
'Early bright and transient,
Chaste as morning dew, she sparkled,
Was exhal'd and went her way to heaven',
To the saviour that she knew.
Categories:
mossed, christian, death, heaven,
Form:
Rhyme
Serene sounds of the Rhythm of the Falls
Echo through the forests green canopied walls
Delightful in flow like Robin's pen
Where the Rhythm of the Falls will flow time and time again
Her liquid lullaby, capturing natures sight
Greened mossed coverings, a velvet delight
As the waters fall under gravity feed
The Rhythm of the Falls, are beautiful indeed
After reading Robin's lovely Haiku " Liquid Lullaby " these lines flowed.
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/nature-5.php
Categories:
mossed, inspirational, naturetime, , Lullaby,
Form:
Rhyme
I stood by the bridge
Gazing down at the greens
Of the trees on the banks
At the union of streams.
Through mossed balustrade
Reflected I'd spy
The spires of Magdalen
In watery sky.
Leaves on the water
Red, yellow and gold
By unseen currents,
The near bank hold.
Bright against grey
In light autumn shower
A shimmering halo
Above the stone tower.
Wide wavelets circling
The still picture flows
A fast spreading mask
Where the hidden fish rose.
By the far bank
The ripple passes
Halting the gaze
Of hanging grasses.
Thinned willow and elm
Where pigeons coo,
As in the past
They forever will do.
Now Michaelmas comes,
New faces appear,
But Oxford unchanged
Will greet the new year.
Categories:
mossed, memory, visionary,
Form:
Verse
Derelict now cold
Mossed stones in sporadic spill
Ageing arms out spread
They, competing for the light
Sadly, both succumb to time
.
Categories:
mossed, age, green, house, ireland,
Form:
Tanka
In mossed heathered
Glens, Craggy undulations
Surround my Kingdom
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland-4.php
Categories:
mossed, inspirational, places
Form:
Senryu
Hitler Lives.
In a village near mine an old man lives, so ancient
a TV station took an interest and interviewed him,
they thought he must be 104 or more. I looked at
the face his mustache, white and he had gone bald;
spoke Portuguese with a heavy Austrian accent.
No doubt in my mind I was looking at Adolf Hitler.
To my deep suspicion and when asked about his
longevity said he a vegetarian but liked strudel,
told the village policeman about it, but first I had
to tell him who Hitler was; a shoulder shrug, all so
long ago no point going into all this now.
I called the TV station they hung up on me, but
not before I heard their unqualified laughter.
What am I to do? Can´t just chain myself to him
and take him to Hague…he´s too infirm for that.
A last resort is to send an email Israel, ask them
to let Mossed (their homicide department) send
a couple of agents and take care of the matter.
Categories:
mossed, humorous,
Form:
Blank verse
These past years I’ve lived in memories,
stitched together to fight the growing grey.
Thoughts and longings like light
dappled through the leaves of a forest.
Lost amongst the loam and brush
this fog settles, befuddles the mind.
Long forgotten branches grown
mossed beards shudder though
breath and wind hasn't blown.
Bereft of life and sun the growth
is sterile, dry and false.
These trails winding in and out
Stumbling through roots and shade
To bask in the warmth of her memory when found.
I have been the prodigal daughter,
Lost in the path home, for home was her
And she has gone.
(Surreal)
Categories:
mossed, daughter, mother
Form:
Personification
PEACE
Bergs dot the ocean, even in June, and
Thick fogs clothe the Labrador shore early each morning.
The sea ice rocks slowly in the harbor from wind and sun.
As I roast my fish on the warming gravel beach
The air grows clear and crystalline for miles to the horizon
And I hear only
The seagull cries
Over the lone level water
And tumbling streams laughing their way over mossed boulders old as time,
Streams known only to me and the fish.
We know the splendor of the yellow arctic poppy in bloom in the long days of July,
The wild goose arrowing south high above the shore before the sun-dogs of October,
And the incandescent rainbow of the aurora in bloom in January.
Polar bears hunt ringed seals along the coast, whales call in the bay,
And caribou herds migrate to their calving grounds among
The ankle-deep turf of tundra with mushrooms in an abundance of sizes and colours,
Bilberry, red mountain cranberry, and crowberry, which bears graze in late summer.
There is life here - and pristine growth, primeval and pure.
I need only a simple cabin - black spruce for walls and white birch bark for roof,
And a boat - and my trap line mended.
And I shall have peace here
Among the evening green and white of this cold coast
With unnamed summer streams running warm into unnamed bays and hidden coves
Between high cliffs rising straight from the sea,
Their wind- and wave-scoured faces looking straight east over the foggy Atlantic.
Categories:
mossed, peace,
Form:
Free verse
The earth is still with winter frost,
The forest shines with snow embossed,
The rocks now snowed had once been mossed,
The clouds all move their snow exhaust.
The trees arrayed in garment white,
A velvet blackness falls with night,
The stars all glow with silver light,
As shining diamonds piled bright.
The wind, a thief steals clouded breath,
The snow burns white, as cold as death,
It's icy blast breaches with eath,
A biting reign, its shibboleth.
The frost filed crystals, clear as ice,
The grip of hoarfrost like a vice
A rush of cold wind; frank, concise,
A winter wonder paradise.
Categories:
mossed, 6th grade, beautiful, winter,
Form:
Inside my heart is where you always dwell my darling
never forgotten
from that first kiss you were to be my true love
this love cannot be destroyed
You are
the rose inside my heart- dear
from that moment we met- we were to be one
joined eternally
I recall all the good times
we shared love, passion, desire and happiness
so alike- we complimented each other
we were so truly in love
Darling
like E.E. Cummings wrote in his romantic poem
I carry you in my heart
until my last day on earth I will love you
I go often with a rose
to lay upon your mossed and engraved tomb stone
seems odd for a man who was so full of life
oh, listen birds are singing
There is a great beauty in this decaying
such a peacefulness where chipmunks run and leap
my eyes fill with tears
and a rose of love blooms brightly in my heart
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March 22, 2023
Poetry/Suzette Prime/Inside My Heart - MR
Copyright Protected, ID 03-1533-294-22
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, The Rose Inside My Heart
sponsor, Mystic Rose, Rose, Judged 03/31/2023
First Place
Categories:
mossed, love,
Form:
Suzette Prime
I am the un-find-able ...the hidden now
But outside the wild winds still blow
I know lighter leaves in brighter hues still swirl
move and gyrate to the beat of music
arms and leaf tips in the air
hips and form flowing like the river around rocks
winding boldly over the slightest of hills and down again
They live in hope –with hope
that rises up and bursts forth in them ...fluttering of butterflies
they sweep out the preverbal door
How sweet it was!
the ecstasy of youth filled hope...each day a new shiny discovery!
Each night filled with starlight and street light and dazzle of white lights off wet pavement
potential brimming forth...the froth and foam of it!
washing them crystal clean...They await
self-discovery
and being
“discovered”
- to be made in a moment
–to be found more significant than the others
-to be a leaf......singularly found and lifted up among leaves
I taste it still in my dreams
you come to me as you did then...and we swing up fluid as a vine
and ride on mighty dark and wondrous steeds
we ride...into the thick of dark green mossed filled forests
ducking away with ease from the clawing limbs
that sought to dethrone us
Awake...I close my eyes
and rock
...whisper just audibly enough for me to hear
“Hi Ho Silver! and away!”
Categories:
mossed, age, lost love,
Form:
Free verse
My soul is bleeding, bleeding,
as a thousand sharp daggers stab me;
for the headstones are green mossed,
and I hold to my heart tattered memories;
like decaying bouquets,
and will 'till my last gasp !
_____________________
April 10, 2022
Poetry/Free Verse/Like Decaying Bouquets
Copyright Protected, ID 04-1446-865-10
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Bite Size Poem, No 42
sponsor, Line Gauthier, Judged 05/01/2022
First Place
Categories:
mossed, grief,
Form:
Free verse
Have been on a journey to now,
it was hard but made it somehow;
I followed the teachings of Tao,
finding peace in a cat's meow.
It has been hard at times !
There are days that I am still lost,
oh, their graves are all quite green mossed;
for into grief I have been tossed,
for surviving have paid a cost.
I feel twisted sometimes !
But, I have a strength within me,
now try to greet each dawn with glee;
I am a poet wannabe,
a modern day Calliope.
And each day my joy climbs !
_____________________
April 08, 2022
Poetry/Tail-Rhyme/My Own Kind of Beautiful
Copyright Protected, ID 04-1446-475-08
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Categories:
mossed, how i feel,
Form:
Tail-rhyme