Best Sap Poems

Green is more than a color it’s true;
In viridescence there’s the promise 
Of life springing anew,
Or maybe that’s found 
In hues vibrant chartreuse.

Pea is the eyes of a jaundice and spite
It’s a virulent shade
Which foreshadows a fight
That’s driven by envy—
An emotional blight.

And once March is...

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“Poetry is eternal graffiti written in the heart of everyone.” — Lawrence Ferlinghetti


When starlings were swimming in the azure lake
When bats and owls began their nocturnal ride
When all the Earth under a dark blanket lay
My Muse, like a sweet temptress, came to me
To set this...

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From dry wooden cracks
Seeps the elixir of life
Oozing out of its earthy shell
It crawls upon the outer walls
Of its once eternal prison

It flows and covers
Encompasses and drowns all
Preserving death within its clarity
All else seems insignificant and weak
Thus it perishes before the creeping nectar from within

The...

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Me doing programming
Being a part of a wonderful team… 

Knowing, not snoring 
During the meetings…

During discussions about the sky
Which is above us…

About its azure
Bright blue in color in cloudless skies…

(Now read slowly)
Sun shining brightly 
Intervening with slumber....

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If there's one thing worse than winter
It's more winter that makes us whimper
80 years of this crap
I'm nutso, what a sap
Think I just heard you agree in a whisper


© Jack Ellison 2016...

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(this has happened a few times to me when 
trying to sleep out on my deck in the sun!)

I longed to nap
and laid me down right here.
Then peacefully I closed my eyes
and drifted off round “sheep one-hundred-four.”

But what a sap!
When sleep came very near,
my body...

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that delightfully delicate desert rose,
that same alluring adenium multiflorum bearing the wondrous pinkish-fuchsia petals & white outlining angles 
brings with it the death-sap used by hunters in africa,
that which in a barrage of many poison soaked arrows
will slowly kill a giraffe as it tries so...

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The wild hair of the trees
lay down on the ground.
Others burn up in a blue smoke.
The severed branches in small heaps.
I saw, in the middle of the sawdust,
The pieces of the great plane tree,
Where we carved our names.
The drawn heart, smiled at me,
Even with its...

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Runners, joggers, wheeler, hikers -
They feel the power of nature's glow, with breeze and sun
Then with such course, the walking dead joins in? or shun?

Each runner's course is rough, then smooth
They and the jogger feel lifted up, by golden rule

Hikers hike, and what do they...

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on the reference of a 
friend who used to be
close, s/he asks the cartomancer 
to come to the house---
as this is not a privilege
often granted to those whose cards
are to be read (so the “reader”
claims), extra funds are required
to lure her in & 
the sap...

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From the root, the sap rises up into the artist,
Flows through him, flows to his eye.
Activated by the force of the current, 
He conveys his vision into his work.
 
He stands at a fixed place as the trunk of the tree
He does nothing other than...

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A hungry beast edges,
coming for you, sent by a
shining, busy man;
you can do nothing.

The dingy spit spills
from claws that look like 
spinning sawblade dinner plates.
An oven belly smolders so brightly
for your flesh.

Truly, I am sorry...

But your druid spirit will be shredded,
sacrificed to Frankenstein,
and machined nonchalantly.

Come...

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Tip your wing to the deep blue sky
your free to roam your free to fly,
Feel the wind upon your face
gliding free in the open space,
Soar above and be our guide
for knowing you holds no stronger pride,
No braver spirit no brighter eyes
in the night we'll watch...

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Michael slaps his forearm as he
     thumbs through a
     book of epitaphs,
inscriptions cemented upon a
brown volume filled with tacky
sheets

holding memories under the spotlight
     like that prickly
     crown of thorns
filled with creamy sedation. He
cranks the volume on his tiny
speaker

hoping to cling to Stevie Nicks'
     familiar gravel smoothing
     with pungent aroma
reminiscent of wood-chips...

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Our election is over and Doug Ford is the chap
In the face of we Liberals, a humongous slap
One Ford was enough
We've fallen on our duffs
Our Canadian maples have been drained of their sap...

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