Best Poplars Poems
Have you ever, wandered into, a sequestered meadow
Surrounded by trees and mountains
Where the passerine song birds, sang songs with no words
Indian paintbrushes, rose up, like red fountains
The orange day lilies, and butterfly weeds
Danced, with the light purple asters
Bold black eyed susans and multicolored lupines
Provided scenes, like paintings, of old masters
Did you feel the cool breeze, that tickled the leaves
Of the poplars, birches and oaks
Put off by the snow caps, as they melt and collapse
Then ski down the shadowy slopes
Or happen to look, when the clear snow melt brook
Rushed by, to the lake of, serenity
Did you feel the love, of Mother Nature's hug
And the awesomeness of it's, sublimity
To put words to a feeling, when the senses are reeling
Can be a difficult thing
Meadows sleeping with mountains, flowery red fountains
With a breeze of tranquility
That's how I felt, when ice started to melt
Encasing my frozen heart
I'll never forget, when our paths first met
And you gave, my life, a jump start
an original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner
Categories:
poplars, beauty, emotions, feelings, imagery,
Form:
Rhyme
i saw the crow fly through the perfectly aligned tree tunnel
poplars that like soldiers stood.
i saw the crow fly through the draped purple lace air that like a prism hung,
into the enchanted forest.
another time, another place. where they had tied you to a wooden cross,
where they had lit the tinder that circled you,
where the flames rose to take you. from ashes to ashes...
it was there your bird lifted you, lifted you with his unusually large talons.
it was then your feathered creature flew you out, flew you to safety.
past your soldiers, still in perfect form.
past the adoring crowds,to your rightful place
where you sit on your throne queen of the gates,
and through it all you never cried. not even a whimper. you never blinked.
proud, royalty!,
you ruled with your heart,
always kind, always the light.
Maurice Yvonne
August 28 2014
Addictive Poetry Contest
Categories:
poplars, addiction, daughter, drug, love,
Form:
Free verse
From neglect comes deviation, electrifying radiation, like a leaf in the shadow,
Drying stanza so bore-some, a bit much candidly said,
In the Sun thinly it is spread,
As it comes to - an End.
Unpropitious almost as a son left to die in a wooden casket,
Beating the chest, screaming the pain dumped in the basket
This fight that is looming, so void and gore,
Drained of meaning, young and old, shaken, - I’ve been told.
Hey, loner-donor go seek Freud and subscribe to the membership of bold.
What name, say you?
Look up, zap the depth and any chance,
Given but not forgiven, just sanitised slam dance,
Not tipping the balance,
So settled, decisive and predisposed,
Here comes the pain rolling down the mountains at Pieve di Cadore
You do not know whether to ignore or adore.
I am a natural riparian who likes to fasten poplars on the banks of my heart
My eyesight at breast height gets pulled by gravity – down!
Sipping on a glass of Vitis Viifera while avoiding an overdose
In the eyes of a true ochre sensible enough
To touch the ground or poke her.
Grab the ivory rod that is a relic of lies,
Crafted for the bride who held it dearly
In the arc it traveled back and forth,
North to south, back to north.
Everything crumbled, thorn to pieces,
Gunning down feeling after feeling,
The fight is looming, but I am not kneeling.
Categories:
poplars, allusion, betrayal,
Form:
Free verse
Seeping through families of oaks,
Surrounded by pines, laurels and all…
Gentle leaves, so alive – yes, they breathe,
Silent like the peace I find here,
Enclosed in their embrace,
Soft music of dove and robin, praising,
Ever praising with their easy tweet,
Tempering the woods with their melodies,
So old, yes, so old…
Breathlessly praising,
Stirring the wonder often lying,
Secreted beside cool streams,
Abandoned by moss-grown stones,
Laughing, gurgling, gushing…
With liquid wonder, blessing spirits,
Risking their most intimate beauties,
Lingering in amused giggles,
Calm as the silent grace…
Gentling the wind, the wind’s faint
Struggle to bring with it,
A sense of God’s music, His mystery,
Hesitating to break through,
Intensity, powerful as the cloudless skies,
Yes, those cloudless skies…
Escaping the darkness of a lazy afternoon,
Screaming a warning, rumbles of thunder,
Defeated by the flashes of lightening,
Blazing across the silk sky,
Glancing over the aching trails,
Strewn with dried leaves, maples,
Poplars and oaks, pine needles,
Moments expressed…
Soundless colors, shimmering
On the edge of a prayer,
Mostly peaceful, but ever aware…
God is there – oh, yes, He is there.
Like the wildflowers,
Scattered on the distant dreams,
Unfolding blossoms for the soul,
Flourishing buds,
Crimson and soft, buttery blond,
Violets, wild and willful,
Pondering the sense of joy,
Magnificent…
Breaking through the seas,
Seas of laughing scenes, lonely –
Never lonely in the forest,
Where I go for the stillness, the calm,
The lingering touch of silence,
Blessings from One who knows me,
Knows just what my soul needs…
These forest walks with Him,
Who gives me a reason to believe,
Believe that I can find solace,
In the music of this melodious forest!
Categories:
poplars, appreciation, flower, nature, seasons,
Form:
Free verse
An unpopulated place where
poplars grow
Unseen canopies expose
tree trunks in a row
Wildflowers swoon over
undergrowth below
As back to front figures
watch the panoramic show
Lush vegetation evokes a
spellbinding hue
With violet bark
to engrain their view
Don’t flee this forest
reality will go askew
Stay forever
they may just pull through
Lost in the emerald
is a world of their own
Do they seek solace
have seeds been sown?
In this vibrant thicket
where trees have grown
Have they just come together?
or come back to atone
Perfect is a dream
without fear or dread
One that only ends,
when we go to bed?
The artist knew well,
his final words bled
“Sadness will last forever”
>yet brilliance he spread<
Categories:
poplars, art, life, perspective,
Form:
Rhyme
a statement in their freedom of expression
the verdant undergrowth –
a green carpet, indispersed with yellow, white and rose flowers –
leaning away from the regimental lines of the centre lane of poplars
the tree trunks, a whimsical hue of lilac
a profound blend of renewal, early love, and spiritual wisdom
in the overall aesthetics
a contrast in colour on Newton’s colour wheel
the female figure fuses with the shades of the undergrowth
whereas the male figure mimics the upright form of the poplars
the rushed brushstrokes
a hurried comment on
echoes of social construct
then and
now
Categories:
poplars, analogy,
Form:
Free verse
impressions of summer-
whispering in the breeze
Monet's Poplars in the Sun -
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Monet_Poplars_in_the_Sun.jpg
Categories:
poplars, art, places
Form:
Monoku
Through whispers that furrow the silence, the cursing horn sounds,
Over plains of shadow the dusk of night descends all around.
Hyperion of night glows with embers beneath lids of silver light,
In silence watches over sparse poplars, caressed by the moon's delight.
Dreaming of the scent from deep, dark woods, on the lake's mysterious wave,
Begging for comfort from the stars that weep in the realm of the forgotten, their enclave.
Thirsting to trace hurried steps, to journey beneath the starry sphere,
While the rhythm of seasons softly ticks, like a clock in the night drawing near.
Linden flowers shatter over celestial metaphors that echo in night's thrall,
From the glittering dawn to the borders of dark eternities, overarching all.
Through the centuries, as legatees on Earth, his steps will remain unswayed,
Like a gold coin rimmed by fate's bright light, ever vibrant, always unstayed.
Lord of the stars, a young noble robed in romances of elation,
With night's locks cascading, the forest patrols in hushed revelation.
Like a sage of silence, tethered to solitude with ancient ties,
Treading paths that angels step, in the crickets' twilight symphony, the bird descends and flies.
With eyes that embody the infinite, thoughts nobly uplifted in cosmic sprawl,
He reclines on the forehead of time immortal, a monarch in high-walled hall.
You've poured magic through the gates of ether, unlocking the most treasured enigma, cast,
In the celestial chamber you unwittingly sign your name, on scattered parchment, on a constellation vast.
Apollo of oblivion, from your searing, touch-me-not zodiacal trace,
You spin the stars like a rosary, forever set as their vigilant grace.
Categories:
poplars, fantasy,
Form:
Free verse
" Imagine a place where there is beauty, bliss and plentifulness for all. It is nothing short of utopia. Though we are far from realizing it, isn't it thrilling to imagine a version of the world different from the existing one where all disparities will be leveled and happiness and freedom are made the birthright of all? Now such a world is enshrouded in mist. But who can say it won't emerge suddenly from the blue in some distant future"- By Poet
Though, utopia is merely an illusion,
Or a chimera born in the womb of our whims,
I shall take you to a near-utopian land,
Where, peace and beauty blossom like the cherry in spring
And trees grow like the cedars of Lebanon.
Come on, my Love! Let us move to that land,
Where the sun resurrects anew,
Where darkness gives way to light,
And life renews itself every morning.
It is our dreamland paradise or interim utopia.
Let us go into that Garden of Delight.
Look to the East, my love, beyond those crooked hills,
Where poplars grow tall in line
And a gentle breeze susurrates through the foliage of leaves
And wild weeds hem the edges of pathways,
Where bunnies and squirrels hop and jump
And run around whistling bamboo reeds,
Where the laughing cataract leaps down from the rocks
And flow along in silvery rills
Where the languorous breeze plays upon the leaves.
This place has all the beauty and bliss of utopia.
Away from the tumult, far from the bustling crowd
With the pandemonium of the world hushed to serene silence
Let us walk together to that sequestered glade,
Where we shall sit by the side of a rustling stream
And dance across the flowery meadows.
In this place of perennial greenery and sunlit groves
We shall walk hands locked and hearts singing as one,
Till the bright day gives way to a dusky night,
Inhaling night air in scented perfume.
Under the stillness of a star-spangled sky, we shall roam,
Through moon-blanched woods, enigmatic and mysterious
Listening to the sweet whisperings of our soul
And ‘drinking life to the lees’ from the chalice of love
Oh! Come on, let us not tarry….
Let’s move fast to that Utopia!
Categories:
poplars, beauty, fantasy, uplifting,
Form:
Free verse
The cedar towered above the shingled roof,
Its tapered branches hiding squirrels and birds
until the day when Hugo swept the hills
uprooting poplars, whipping wind-wilted
leaves against the parlor window.
The cedar fell, its prodigious bulk
flattened against the sodden earth.
For years it lay along the gravel drive.
The neighbor though we ought to cut
the cedar into pieces--use the oval slabs
for stepping stones or perhaps for firewood.
The gard'ner groaned and said it was a nuisance.
One summer day we thought to drag it off
to slice away the limbs, the falling needles.
But the honeysuckle had wound around the trunk
as if to say how much it was not in the way.
A chameleon slithered, dark against the trunk,
a ground sparrow squawked and fluttered in alarm
while chipmunks hurried to guard a nut-filled hole.
We put the chain-saw in the shed
and planted flowers in the tangled roots.
A cedar tree, after all, is indestructible...
Categories:
poplars, creation, nature, tree, visionary,
Form:
Blank verse
English version by Liviu Martinescu
- a solo nijuin renku -
waves covered in wind
in our blood the salt of the sea
is seeking the shore
autumn clouds scattered
by viola d'amore
insatiably drinking in
the image of those conches
lurking amongst barren poplars
devious ways in
a square black against white
stuck between word and shadow
time
a salamander
I would twirl your red hair
in yellow rings
through rolls of thick fog
to meet the axolotl
bearing the face of my beloved
afloat away from our own selves
among unknown engravers
in the foreign harbour
anemones
sink the eternal sky
in the long forgotten bell
crickets have taken shelter
melting wax
covers the books
of metamorphosis
smoky chrysalides
rise from among vowels
the shape of the larva
slowly yields the contour
of your absence
my palm feels the vortex
of your frozen name
a scream snowed under
albatrosses with myrtle in their beaks
shattering the moon
how changed the last
water dwellings
a cluster of birches
from one being into another
music will pass
it's only the sound of time
that entices grass to germinate
amongst plum blossoms
the hourglass sends up its sand
up/down to the last grain
deep into lilac woods
fire devouring fire
Categories:
poplars, inspirational,
Form:
Free verse
autumn
wind mutters
something which sets the
black poplars ashake with mirth
the leaves
fly over
the window - utter
a word as they pass - listen
Categories:
poplars, imagery, imagination,
Form:
Haiku
Piney woods, perfume the forests; sweet scents waft upon the air.
Great oaks share their strength; Popular poplars whisper lost secrets.
In the great kingdom of trees, generosity is paramount.
Categories:
poplars, nature, poems, poetry, tree,
Form:
Sijo
Journeys, Translation of Etiemble’s tercets: Voyages by T. Wignesan
For André Gâteau
(End rhyme scheme: aab, ccd, aab, eed in the original, the first and third tercets beginning
with “Pour vous…” and constituting one complex sentence each. One would do well to bear
in mind in this poem that Etiemble was the foremost authority on Arthur Rimbaud’s poetry.)
For you all over I laid out
my oases, all their date palms
in the tiresome desert without wells,
where the salts of nitrous valleys,
for you* only and your hollow hips
squeaked with the leaps of camel calves.
For you only I stretched out
the fine lace of the poplars
over the blue shirt of the nights
and scoured out of this bone
the winding sheet of dead stars
a place to lie as long as mine.
* “tu”: second person “you”.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Categories:
poplars, voyage,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
By the shadows of summer
I declare war on spring
Winter gave me passage
While my true heart appears missing
the sounds of the evening town
Over the poplars
The things that go missing one-by-one
make patches of muted sound, while
The things that add up day after day
Float like a watery memory
Oh what of tomorrow's sorcery
Categories:
poplars, magic,
Form:
Free verse