Best Mosses Poems
Johnny-Jump-Ups nestle into the forest floor mosses,
Along with dainty Jack-in-the-Pulpits hiding beneath
The larger fronds of swampy ferns soaking up moisture
From the dew-laden flowering branches of laurel
Where I find myself dreaming in the verdant woodland,
Edging the meadow beyond the cluttered beaver stand.
A canopy of vine-entangled branches, a vault-like nave,
Provides a sanctuary of sacred candles dimmed for mass
A pew-less haven for wounded souls, and tiny chipmunks,
Who scurry to find isolated spots for quiet meditation
While grebes and gallinules make up the choir ensemble;
A purple swamphen takes up the guttural baritone line.
The late morning is mine, sitting along the narrow trail
In a cross-legged yoga pose with arms across my knees,
Soaking up the faint sweet smells of sassafras and pine
And slipping into what I sometimes call my “blue funk”
Where nothing on earth matters outside this quiet shelter,
Dozing softly, I dream of a utopian sweet, elusive peace.
FIRST PLACE WINNER (TROPHY)
June 25, 2022
Submitted to: "Poetry Marathon Mile 5" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
Written on June 3, 2021
Selected for FEATURED POEM
On the front page of All Poetry,
September 13, 2021
GOLD MEDAL WINNER
"5 Golds or Less - Profanisaurus" Poetry Contest
All Poetry, December 11, 2021
Appeared in "It's Still Poetry"
Poetry Soup Anthology - 2021
CreateSpace, Amazon publication
Categories:
mosses, inspirational, nature, paradise, peace,
Form:
Blank verse
She would lean into the water blue, to witness angel eyes,
She would bend down close, and whisper then,
and pray to have a friend
So close they were, yet, ...still they lived a thousand worlds apart
Each day she came and there she was...
An angel would transcend...
She would lie beside the water cool, and gently touch the glass
The woodland pool, where hydrangeas grew, with mosses wet from dew
She had seen her in the pool before….
There was comfort in her silent ways, her flowing hair, her gentle grace
And with understanding eyes
Her heart would yearn, but she never learned
This angel was unknown
A friend she made, was close inside
A face that was her own
_________________________________
Carrie Richards 10/22/13
Categories:
mosses, fantasy,
Form:
Rhyme
A constant vein of nature’s blood cascading rock and sand,
Flushing grains of dislodged mud. The beat in a mountain band,
Currawongs sing melody. Black Cockies rasping call;
The whispering breeze that shakes the trees, near a waterfall.
Sassafras and twisted ti-tree display a rippling shadow,
Mosses mingling with lichens where the sunlight doesn't show,
Blackwood and Lilly Pilly trunks, struggling for the light,
Lost is the canopy, when mist rolls in a billowed eerie white.
Where there's always a river through a valley in the high country,
There's always something there that takes my breath away from me
along the banks by the shimmer, pristine life is shrouding me,
Walking this river, through a valley in the high country.
The flit is there, sharp eyes note, in camouflage a glistening eye,
A Ground Thrush as still as stone watching me go walking by,
The rustle of the leaves are gentle, attracts a fleeting glance
of a disappearing rodent. Instinct breeds no games of chance.
The reason I am walking here, with times eternal strain,
I find no battle with my mind. Up here the world lives sane,
Life and death hold constant beauty, complimenting every stage.
Slow is change that's left alone, even when the waters rage.
Where there's always a river through a valley in the high country,
There's always something there that takes my breath away from me
along the banks by the shimmer, pristine life is shrouding me,
Walking this river, through a valley in the high country.
Categories:
mosses, nature,
Form:
Lyric
In deep forest with rotten leaves and wood
Where the sun’s light finds it hard to reflect.
Where wind won't blow even if it could
below dense undergrowth, it’s deadwood wrecked.
There is much silence there; all sound in check.
Here’s where the webs of spiders hang and cling
few flowers bloom, but weeds and mosses grow.
Broken branches and twigs which the trees fling
shrivel mushrooms that smell like sour bread dough.
In there hides the things the wood fairy knows.
A secret of life the wood fairy knows.
His burrow dug deep in the undergrowth
as he hibernates under winter's snow
to sneak out come spring to run to and fro
to play tricks on man and animals both.
As he plays in the light between the trees
while hiding in shadows of moss clothed stones.
So very often heard but seldom seen
is his deadwood follies with fancy tones
like the shadows themselves the forest owns.
Here in the deepest woods man seldom finds
the burrows of fairies or nest of crows
for we only go where the bare trail winds
and we walk as if our eyes were closed.
We seldom find what the wood fairy knows.
I have pilfered in deep, dark woods in vain
probing for what the wood fairy owns.
I have concluded we are all the same.
It is in oneself where happiness grows.
This is the secret the wood fairy knows.
Categories:
mosses, faith, philosophylight, fairy, light,
Form:
Quintain (English)
I walk no more on soft green mosses,
Under the trees where green branch tosses;
Where scent of leaf and red rose flinging,
Perfume the wind with soft scent clinging.
I walk no more by the ocean dreaming,
Where sunbeams fly with grey gulls screaming;
Over the cliffs where wild waves falling,
Sweep up the sound in echoes calling.
I hear no more the sea shell's story,
Along the shore with sunset's glory;
Only the song from the dark cave's hollow,
That siren song I dare not follow.
Words you spoke leave me broken hearted,
For now I find you have departed;
For I loved you well but you left me lonely,
How could I tell if you loved me only?
Categories:
mosses, lost love, me, song,
Form:
Rhyme
Belle,
Earth’s grace,
leaves her spire
Light-laced her pace
Shimmering, she glides, and the granite gleams
Sweet laughs she splashes, so the mosses beam
In her cascade...
many parade...
Aqua's
!life
~~
~
(9/22/2020: Sea Ray 240 DMS)
Categories:
mosses, appreciation,
Form:
Tetractys
Try to consider your hours of play,
That they are the ways of sharing the day;
For when all is said and done,
And the victory is won;
You may want to stay and shine,
In the sweet hours of summertime.
Always with some songs to cheer,
With silver church bells ringing clear,
From a great grey lofty steeple,
Soaring spire o'er all the people.
We walk the street in summer's rain
Humming melodies again;
On pale white pathway twisting far,
Thro twilight's dewy misting star;
Where leafy ferns and mosses grow,
And shady glen where streamlets flow;
Where nymphs who dance on silver streams,
Trip their feet in the river of dreams.
My friend, where I go you go too,
Find joy in life for the hours are few.
Categories:
mosses, allegorysilver,
Form:
Lyric
Ancient city rising up from the great Euphrates
What great artistic mind brought forth your beauty from imagination?
Verdant plants and trees
Tower
Rise up for the sky-blue sky
Many India Green Ferns and Mosses tumble downward reaching nearly to the next terrace
Lovers enthusiastic stroll along enjoying the lush Emerald cast about your walls
A lover's paradise to meander through your treasures
Dream pleasure and passion to sail pass
Palms of Jade soar with the fowl of the air
Coasting 'pon breezes and linger in your shade
Persian Green upon the Cedars draws each one to rest, relax, rejuvenate
Hanging Gardens Of Babylon such beauty in times gone by
Man made Garden Of Eden_gone to live no more
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
Contest: Seven Wonders Of Ancient Or New World
Written this twenty-second day of April 2013
Categories:
mosses, imagination,
Form:
Free verse
Let me tell you a story . . .
It happened long ago and once upon a time in an enchanted forest,
This is the story of Sleeping Beauty of the Woods, but not the Grimm tale;
of your childhood, oh no, this one is completely but not totally different.
Now, the King of the woods, King Wind and the Queen, Queen Rain,
Had a beautiful girl child and she was known as Princess Nature;
She had seven fairy godmothers, there was Wit, fairy of changing skies,
Grace, of rippling streams, Dance, of falling leaves, Song, of the birds, and;
Music, of each new dawn, and of course there was Night, of dreams,
And the last fairy was called Magic . . .
Oh I forgot, there was an eighth fairy, an evil one, called Winter.
That evil fairy, Winter was so jealous and mean that she cast an enchantment,
On Princess Nature, that should she prick her finger on a thorn;
She would die, but the seventh fairy, Magic reversed the curse somehow,
The Princess would not die should she prick her finger but fall asleep;
Asleep for one hundred years, and could only be awakened by a certain kiss.
The woods was a lovely place of emerald green and hanging mosses,
but also there were places of brambles and thorns, and one day, sadly;
Princess Nature pricked her finger on a thorn and fell into a deep sleep.
The woods became quiet and nothing moved, winter and frost came;
It covered everything and the woods froze for one hundred years.
Then a Prince came through the tall trees, he had heard of these woods,
Heard the story of the sleeping Princess, and his name was Prince Spring;
He cut through the ice with his sun sword and soon found the Princess,
Kneeling he kissed her and she awakened and the woods awakened too.
And of course, they married, and lived happily ever after...
_________________________
January 27, 2016
Poetry/Narrative/Sleeping Beauty - Once Upon A Time
Copyright Protected, ID 16-749-715-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted to the contest, Your best Poem From Any Laura Loo Contest
Sponsor, Laura Loo
First Place
__________________________________
Written for the contest, Once Upon A Time,
sponsor, Laura Loo
Second Place
Categories:
mosses, fantasy,
Form:
Narrative
I leave my four walls
and walk away from the hardness
And coldness of my surroundings
I find the steps that have no footprints
Deep into nature’s sanctuary
With each step I feel more alive
And regain a part of myself
I need this
I ache for this
I have longed for this
Each step brings with it
The awareness of how long it’s actually been
I plant my feet on the softness
Of the earth
I breathe in uncorrupted air pure and healing
I sit on pillows of the greenest mosses
And fill my senses
Nature’s aria
Scents that I savor
The peace, oh God yes, the peace
I close my eyes as my emotions settle
God how beautiful you have made this world
This is the inner sanctum
The true holy of holies
It restores my soul
Invigorates my devotion to you
Blesses me with an ardor for life
And brings me peace
There is harmony between
Mind, body and soul
A union between myself, nature, and You
And I am in one accord
Each time when I visit I wonder
Have I stayed away too long
Once again will you be able to revivify me to consciousness
Resuscitate my spirit and make me whole
And always the answer is
Amen
Categories:
mosses, natureme, me,
Form:
Free verse
With the grandeur of prairies and canyon
With Georgian welcomes from Springer Mountain
With cooler welcomes of Katahdin
America rises with five million feet
To exult among more mosses, mammals, trees
Than have survived in spaces smaller than countries
A president named Teddy signed off on it
America rises with these five million feet
With delirious descent of peregrines
With the swooping swish of eagles with fish
With raising and saving whooping cranes
America still rises across millions of feet
Grace as in the disappearing Chestnut
Timelessness and wonder in the redwood
Gifts of Euphorbia, Aster, Camelia
America rises in chlorophyll and feet
With red and green blood that will unify
With Hibiscus threatened by goats in Hawaii
America rises and falls from view
America for all, always preserved by the few
(c) First published with gratitude in 2005; God Bless America - and the rest of humanity. Shalom, shalom!
Categories:
mosses, appreciation, environment, history, immigration,
Form:
Rhyme
Who is this?
A lyricist who does not want to be dissed?
Parliament pissed
But I have said: “crunchy but crisp”
But this is one true lyricist.
Check me out and listen to this:
These are words of a man dormant too long
Listen to my awakening and hear me roar
‘Cause like volcano I spit pure lyrics that be my lava
Radiate pure heart that is my wisdom
Ruling the righteous kingdom
Ooh! Mental implosion, internal explosion
Making me to rumble for undivided attention
And mental stability
From now until eternity
Like the holy trinity
This is
A lyricist who does not want to be dissed?
Parliament passed
But I have said: “crunchy but crisp”
But this is a one true
Check me out and listen to this:
“Consciousness:
A combination of thoughts and feelings
Put together as a whole,” unquote.
These are words of a lyricist
Who is a venom-ist but a visual-ist
At hard, rock vividness
“With strength stronger than the devil”
That be venom
But kids I am not a rapper or an M.C.
But I am tight enough to say
If I were a rope around your neck I would be choking
But I am not joking
‘Cause I oversee like Mosses split the sea
As the M.C. battleground dissect itself from the toes up
That is why:
I am a lyricist
The one does not want to be dissed?
Parliament passed
But I have said: “crunchy but crisp”
‘Cause I am one true lyricist.
Categories:
mosses, rap,
Form:
Free verse
UN: 177 countries vote
in support of the right
of Palestinians
to self-determination
At least the world now knows
The blood stained tyrants behind scenes
they who act unjust against humanity
blind to truth and creation
They can no longer hide
as its written on the wailing wall
for those who seek truth
They will find answers to justice
Seven countries opposed
four countries abstained
Its about time I believe
The killing has got to stop
peace has the only voice
that should be heard in all this
Shame on Israeli minister
him calling on the devils bidding
beheading is separation of the heart and soul
a satanic ritual of barbarism
Sounds like the golden calf
is being worshiped once again
blind ugly fools
godless such deeds
I pray to God to be merciful
unto such unjust sins
because we all know Mosses law
laid down by the Almighty Father Himself
Categories:
mosses, conflict, pain, peace, pride,
Form:
Free verse
8/13/16
Just being honest
Following through on what I promise
I'm on it
In desert, snow, forest, and anything else including the tropics
Lifeforms some of which are aquatic
Living below occasional flying comets
So many topics and conflicts
Amid losses and profits
Be cautious around materials that are toxic
Don't be foolish and thoughtless
Is anything in this solar system flawless?
Considering that the size of it is colossus
How many relics and objects remain forgotten
Or unfound at the very bottom?
Many put their belief into prophets
Or a god and goddess
Houses and areas that are called haunted
Some events that occurred there were some of oddest
To this day who know's what many really wanted
Once a loved one is gone, is there ever any kind of true solace?
In any areas and quadrants
Be strong and solid
Use your knowledge
The way can be found by correctly using the mosses
I've always thought this (it)
You look beautiful like pocahontas
Now excuse me, while I pay my homage
By: Dalton Ogletree
Categories:
mosses, poetry, rap, word play,
Form:
Rhyme
Walking through a grove of maple trees,
I saunter amongst swaying giants.
Musky odors assault my nostrils
with the smell of damp, decaying leaves.
Nature's scents in perfect harmony;
nurturing and invigorating.
Sunlight pierces the bare canopy
with flickering rays of its splendor.
And a crisp carpet of freeze-dried leaves
forms a mosaic of abstract art;
a magnificent patchwork quilt stitched
with burnt-orange and magenta threads.
Twigs tap a melodic, rhythmic sound,
their mantra heard in lofty branches.
And a gentle breeze tickles each leaf
until they all laugh in unison;
and applaud newly fallen brethren,
lazily fluttering to the ground.
In Autumn's scheme, green gets restricted
to grasses and mosses hardly seen.
And awaiting Winter's frigid breath
a rusty golden-speckled mantle;
painted with flames of searing scarlet,
forms a fitting shroud for Summer's dead.
Categories:
mosses, autumn, beautiful, color, imagery,
Form:
Blank verse