Best Sedge Poems


Here, Again: the Autumn Equinox

Written for the Avebury Gorsedd, 24th September 2016  
I wish you well...

I’m here, again…
Come riding in, upon the western wave
My hair all wove with golden leaves, my breast
As pale as moonlight on a hidden grave
And all the sins of summer long confessed

I come, again…
In sweeping skirts, with white swan feathers strewn
To brush the summer dust from weary grass
Make ash of aspen, damp the flame of noon
Before the frost freeze water into glass 
 
I bring, to you…
Windfallen apples, berries from the hedge
Long shadows on the barrows, and the chalk
Wild winds to stir the willows and the sedge
And mist, and myth, down every path you walk

I’m here, again…
The promise of the harvest to fulfil
The energy of autumn, streaming through
The swirling springs that spiral round the hill
To drench the land in red and russet hue

I come, again…
Between the longest day and shortest night
To fill the blood and marrow of your bones
With all the orange glory of the light
Before the dark descend upon the stones

I bring, to you…
A cornucopia of ripened fruit
Dark juices of the vine in bottles bright
To nourish soul and body, to transmute
Your thought to dream, your dream to second sight

For I am She…
Am Autumn writ, in every field and tree
Am mistress of the Owl and running Hare
So yield unto my kiss, and blesséd be
And dance with me, oh Druid, if you dare…

@ Gail Foster 23rd September 2016

Premium Member The Water's Edge

Come join me at the water's edge
Where orange lilies grow
And tiny blossoms grace the sedge
Brown and pistachio
Wet mossy rocks, dark emerald green
Make music with its flow
Soft sparkling ripples, bright citrine,
Reflect the  autumn's glow

To nature's song, we'll watch the trees
Perform the season's show
They'll chatter softly with the breeze
Who hints of coming snow
Then shivering leaves begin to fall
And form a leafy throw,
Which leaves behind until spring's call
Evergreens and mistletoe


    By Daniel Turner

The Billabong

There’s an old river course with beginning and end,
now the river runs straight without this river bend,
where the water is still and the reeds do grow strong.
New life has taken over in a billabong.

The mat rush is spreading replacing the sedge,
and old fallen gum trees lean in from the edge
creating a haven in the shelter below
for smelt or gudgeon, and the common minnow.

There’s a ring on the water, so danger is nigh,
and life is now over for one caddis fly.
Dragonflies hover on their predator flight, 
so mosquito and midges best keep out of sight.

There is many a song around a billabong 
to break up the still with an assembly throng
from birds of the forest, and wading birds too,
so the billabong offer is there to pursue...

... for blue heron and egret, coot and the teal,
and for the banded rail that the bulrush conceal.
In the billabong shadowed by gum and ti-tree, 
bellbirds are tinkling; wattlebirds disagree.

An oft-diving grebe keeps on searching for food
for the striped downy chicks of its latest brood,
and a hunting kingfisher waits keen for its prey 
from a twig of a gum tree it frequents all day.

There is many a scent around a billabong, 
filling the air with the perfume quite strong,
from black wattle and mint bush, or mistletoe
cascading from gum trees where only they grow.

Painted lady butterfly flit upon flowers,
and blue banded bees keep on working for hours
on lilies and orchids, heath, sweet appleberry
and clusters of flowers on a native cherry.

Ribbon weed, nardoo spread out in the shallow,
with buttercup, duckweed; an introduced mallow,
struggling for survival near the water line,
aiding coral pea that does lightly entwine.

The banks of a billabong are dangerous too
with predator snakes not so often in view,
but they are aware, that the growling grass frog 
will climb from the water onto an old log.

But tigers and copperhead, red-bellied black
often lay in the sun on an overgrown track,
where the wombat or wallaby travel along
to graze on native grasses near the billabong.

So life still carries on around the billabong
where water looks stagnant, a bond is still strong
with a river now rushing it’s way to the sea,
past the billabong living, where the course used to be.


Premium Member Approaching Storm

Skulking between the thinning clumps 
Of tattered sedge
A balding coot despondently calls,
Scratching Blackbirds scutter deeply 
Into a Hawthorn hedge;
Whilst, creeping stealthily,
Gathering darkness onwardly crawls.

The blackened Moorhen washes the clinging
Soot from his feathered form,
Rising above the mirrored pond in awkward 
flight.
Gathering clouds mumble softly of an 
Impending storm,
When, silently menacing, inwards marches 
The approaching night.

Listening intently, between murmurs upon
A breeze,
I  check my step and briefly pause -
To catch a low sigh whispered from among
The sullen trees...
A last desperate plead of their lost cause.

For now billowing cumulonimbus sags 
And begs to stall,
As, slowly homeward bound, I gather 
About me to hastily make;
Where, circling high in rushing element,
The ragged Buzzard begins to fall...

Upon Heavens gathered Furies -
That so conspire to thunderously break!

Premium Member The Elusive Nymph

Accidentally I stumbled on the hidden pool,
      I saw her there among the sedge, so lovely and cool,

"Come swim with me," she smiled in an angelic way.
      Euphorically my heart beat fast with radiant sway.

How fast I swam towards that heavenly vision,
      Only to see her vanish in a colourful prism.

Premium Member Still-Life of Autumn

Take a walk with me within the forest
Gravel path, laced in peach and yellow, leaves.

Inhale the spirit of air it surrounds.
Listen to crunch and shift of course gravel,
See the dust rise upwards beneath our shoes,
feel the cool wind blow our hair across our face.

Stop, view of the bank, against large white rocks
And tall green and wither sedge blades. Listen
To the hastening heartbeat resonance
Of transparent aquamarine, cool river
Where it runs deep flowing downhill.

Tree limbs full of brilliant palette autumn
Colors sway as the breeze quickens its pace.

Take a walk with me and breathe a piece
Of heaven that beckons and awakes my spirit.


10/17/2020
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Black Bog

My descent was gradual, sedge meadows with wondrous pink orchid variations visited by never identified damselflies, my head starting to swim; erasing time, giving way to a dark canopied wetland of black spruce, difficult to traverse, sloping deer trails the safest path to take, avoiding quick-mud holes. These trails are popular in the forest, as signs reveal, death struggle remains, the saddest.
 This is the area I saw the hairless half ape/half wolf like creature block my trail, stopping to look at me deeply, then vanishing like a ghost, without even a ruffle of plants.
 Sometimes a plant, flower or insect calls to me "come closer" so I approach with caution; my hand carved heavy oak staff probing for danger, strong enough to ward off bears and badgers, snakes & insect saboteurs, intent on my demise.
 With compass and topo I chart my course, knowing each time I visit these wild places in the forest off Lake Superior, it could be my last, so I bring back natural, wondrous souvenirs that fill my day-dreams, content once more, cleansed of my sins by Her Majesty, the forests off Gitchi Gumee.


Authors note...never venture into these wild places alone, always be prepared with survival equipment in your pack.

Wavelets On the Pool

Tiny wavelets on the pool today,  a gentle
breeze and raindrops fall with a rhythmic
pitter patter. The ducks and wildfowl pay
no heed, around the sedge bob and feed. 
The Heron standing as if frozen, his
cunning eye a prey has chosen. And the
elegant Swan glides, the Cormorant
beneath the water slides. And the grey 
clouds float on by on this quiet day at the
pool, the reeds sway and insects hide away,
dry wings are required to survive. The Otter
on its back dines on an unlucky Crayfish,
seems well at ease with his surrounds, and
the Water Vole enters a hole to the squeak 
of hungry mouths. In the centre of the pool
a love dance, two Crested Grebes court, 
ducking, bobbing, all magic to the eye. All
this beauty in the pitter patter, life goes on 
it does not matter. Nature gives in many
ways, and as always this heart enslaves.

Premium Member Early Morning By the Lake

I sit on my couch on the terrace watching the dawn.
The struggling sun is still hugging the eastern mountains.
It shines with a shy orange hue casting no shadows.
A sweet breath blows inwards from over the placid lake.

Upon the roof, I hear the low murmur of wild doves.
Spring is not so far, may it arrive quickly enough.
I look down on my lawn, alas the white crocus spent,
It matters not since fragrant flowers will now flourish.

Wild plants can already be seen, their buds opening,
Cyprus sedge, Winterberry holly amongst others
Will provide the water's edge with grandiose landscape.
A skein of geese in usual formation flew fast enough,

No doubt eager to find a place for their mating spree.
And as the sun begins it upwards trajectory,
I languish so pleasantly in the countryside's peace,
Wait with enthusiasm, as my wife prepares breakfast,
Inhale the fine aroma of fresh roasted dark coffee.

Story Time

A warm sultry summers night, a silver crystal formed in
the corner of an eye. Trickled and rolled a gentle cheek,
fell to earth where all was dry. Whence it touched the 
ground did speak, an Orchid bloomed of vibrant hues,
reds and whites, the palest blues. The Tear catcher dabbed 
the bluest eye, a smile pursued a gentle sigh. The catcher
kissed is favourite friend, his purses full to the night did
blend..
Eerk, eerk the frog he croaked, help us Flora the pool is
choked, eerk, eerk and off he hopped, Flora followed
her duties swapped. By the pool, eyes in moonbeams 
danced, their love of Flora is well romanced. Flora, Flora 
help us please, the pool is choked by a blue disease. The
fish gasped and gulped for air, wildfowl preened their
feathers fair, otters, voles in a sticky mass, frogs and
toads could not pass. The sedge, the reed, heads did fall,
marigolds and lily's, threatened by this seedy sprawl. 
With her hands she ceased the breeze, asked for quiet 
from the trees. Beckoned all the spiders to the waters 
edge, north to south along the sedge. Said to the spiders 
cross your legs,  spin, spin with all your might, those 
silver threads strong and tight. To the Water Boatmen
she said pull, pull, until your net is full. Water Beatles
heaved and toiled, with insect life the water broiled.
Dragonflies with smaller nets collected dregs, Toads
and Frogs flipped with longer legs. The Newts and 
Fowl came to assist, where once was dark the moon
it kissed. Across the pool the Voles and Otters pulled 
away, most did work but some did play. To the sticky
web the Algae clings, behind a bright blue water sings.
The silver net was dragged well clear, all  had helped 
from far and near.
Flora asked the breeze to bring the clouds, left a message
for the sun to hide his head, but to keep her friends warm
in the shade. For without the rays the Algae would die, 
and all would be peace and beauty before the eye. Dawn
was close, time for Flora to pat, stroke and kiss her pals
goodbye. She must return to the safety of the glade and
to the shade of the magic willow, her bed of moss and 
Lavender for a pillow.

Premium Member A Romantic Serenade

snuggled amongst the clouds, shy 
                       and a smile, the moon listens
                                     to the bullfrog mid cattails and sedge



10/10/2022
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member The Day We Met

I recollect the day we met, my dear
When the air was wintry warm and clear.
The garden was a paradise of perfume,
And many flowers were in bloom.

Daylilies and columbines flourished around the pond
And tall sedge grew here and there and beyond.
Littered everywhere were lovely lotus flowers,
Beneath goldfish and calico swam together for hours.

A small wooden bridge took us to a small bench,
So soothing I heard a waterfall drifting down a trench.
We talked and talked and knew love was there.
I promised I will always be true for I really did care.

Premium Member Heaven a Life of Forever

not just a dream, but heaven.
    songs of merry
      throughout and upward heaven
        in the inland garden,

luscious lavender hills,
    dipped in flickering
      white mountain caps
        I sit near the river's edge,

bathing in the brilliant sunshine
    whilst my feet splash
      the blue mirrored hedge
        watching the swirls

on the depthless water,
    the in and out of bees, butterflies,
      and hummingbird flutter
        to savor the nectar

from the chalice
    of fragrance of flowers.
      smelling the wild spray
        of dandelions, tiger lilies, bearberries

in the calm melody of dance
    as the breeze weaves
      through trees
        and upon green blade

of the herbal sweet sedge,
    whilst children in lively play.
      a life of forever,
        no death or suffering, 

    but 
      love.

6/2/2020

Heaven Poetry Contest 
Sponsored by: Regina Riddle
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Garden Ponds

POND LIFE
  
White water lily rooted deep
Profusive alba in flora peep;
Over the surface,upside down
Waterboatman-nature's clown.
Spiders spin their bubbled bell
Close to a ramshorn in crimson shell;
Stick insects,two inches long
Feed midst a tumultuous throng;
Mosquitoes,midges and water fleas
Breed ' neath the shade of willow trees;
Rush,sedge in tall loose strife
In open ponds that team with life.


re-post from  | Year Posted 2007

Premium Member Winter Whiteout 1

(A double Triolet)

A darkened sky portends the snow’s advance
as forest roof displays its bitten edge
and angel wings begin their winter dance.
A darkened sky portends the snow’s advance
as hidden lake supports her tender sedge
and wraps her banks in mud to form a ledge.
A darkened sky portends the snow’s advance
as forest roof displays its bitten edge.

White flakes descend to catch on nose and cheeks
as angels dump their aprons through the clouds.
Soft mountains form as snow heaps up in peaks 
and flakes descend to catch on nose and cheeks,
while creatures sit encased in cushioned shrouds.
All nature rests on mute as winter snores aloud.
White flakes descend, to catch on nose and cheeks,
as angels dump their aprons through the clouds.
© Cona Adams  Create an image from this poem.

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