Best Trellises Poems
My poetry garden of late has lain untended and forlorn.
I succumbed to shock and dismay upon entering recently, for I observed that
great disagreement had erupted and now vehemently
raged among adjoining unmade weed-filled beds of subjects and verbs.
Modifiers that had been dutifully arranged and carefully
kept in check upon their trellises now dangled everywhere.
Sentences had spilled out of their beds in fragments or running
on and on while cases of subjectives and objectives shamelessly
intermingled and were now easily mistaken one for another.
Grammar, whose care I had entrusted to first, second and third
persons, lay in shameless disarray, as if no one could tell the difference.
Gerunds casually consorted with infinitives, many
of which had split. I recalled with a sigh how many years it had taken
me to tightly bind them. [To bind them tightly is what I meant.]
Commas were everywhere, rendering those in appropriate
position practically unrecognizable, which I suppose was better than
what had happened to the capitals, now completely ignored.
No reason for the rhyme with forms confused or misplaced altogether.
My lines, unpruned, were of disparate length and hideously incompl
An unfortunate mis-spell had been cast and provoked an infestation,
such that many of my friends had departed without comment.
The contest entry was blocked, so I bowed my head in shame,
turned around and shuffled silently through the exit marked N/A.
Posted July 24, 2014
'Let the Pens Flow - Narrative' Contest
Jenish Somadas
Categories:
trellises, garden,
Form:
Narrative
Those dreamy days of dulcet splendor reign
As songbirds fill the skies and buds appear
Sweet iris blossoms line the country lane
Their bearded lace announcing spring is here
The resurrection of once-frozen roots
Produces grandeur in each garden patch
As nature’s flowers don their finest suits
And nests appear in limbs where robins hatch
The debutants in chiffon gowns await
Slow dances with brash boys who’ll seek a kiss
‘Neath sequin stars rapt lovers speak of fate
As climbing buds on trellises dehisce
Cocoons are shed and butterflies step out
Earth’s kindest season ushers joy throughout
*February 25, 2019
Categories:
trellises, spring,
Form:
Sonnet
Dear swollen-trunk maple, deemed
diseased by the saw-happy tree guy,
you who have stood silently, supposedly
slipping your ailment through your roots
to the neighboring trees, now fallen
full blast down, geometrically down,
right angle, then parallel at last, your flat-
sawn stump blotched with incriminating
evidence—you came and leafed
and are gone, and I who have grown old
in your lifetime, who intuited you rather
than knew you, felt you in my bones,
now feel the slightly thinner woods,
the hint of frailty. Scott the tree guy
has carried your eighteen-inch logs in his
red wheelbarrow and stacked them
for winter: a little Williams, a little Frost.
Oh tree, everywhere I look
I have to pledge reclamation, fill
the forest floor with ferns, mushrooms,
pine needles, and in the side corner
place the outhouse, practically unused
anymore, still in good shape, emitting
its rich human-waste smell, its wood
smell, its few spiders climbing
their trellises with their sticky feet.
Oh tree, so much has been discovered
to fill in the space where you were:
seven new species of Philippine
forest mice, a new genus of blind
Bulgarian beetle, four new species
of jewel beetles, six of New World
micromoths. I have filled my note cards,
I have left the vertical space open
for the Ur-tree, the canonical vision
that will take your place, even the stigmata,
your bulged and arthritic joints, the
whither of your leaving, the grand word
whither standing where you were.
Categories:
trellises, life, tree, space, tree,
Form:
The gate to Monet’s Japanese garden’s open,
beckoning, and green as Giverny’s winter wheat,
but there’s no time to glimpse the pond’s lilies within.
Monet’s Rose Cottage-locked to all but the wrens-
though curved trellises invite, and a path entreats;
the gate to Monet’s Japanese garden is open,
but the tour bus’s door closes, we can’t go inside.
Deep within submerged, asleep, in their frosted retreat
but there’s no time to glimpse the pond’s lilies within.
Black skies sully the palette, a torrent begins
all hope lost in the thunder’s accompanying beat.
The gateway to Monet’s Japanese garden is open;
with a glance, we leave; we can say that we’ve been?
A dream sought, not found, Normandy’s gem incomplete.
but there’s no time to glimpse the pond’s lilies within.
Accustomed to beauty, the plump driver’s chagrined;
yet, he’s kept to schedule; we’ve stayed in our seats.
The gate to Monet’s Japanese garden is open,
but there’s no time to glimpse the pond’s lilies within.
First Published in Allegro Poetry Magazine Fall 2015
Categories:
trellises, art, travel, vacation,
Form:
Villanelle
Down an old country lane
Void of fortune and fame
Lies a cemetery long forgotten
Overhead, song birds nest
Lullaby those who rest
While the trees weep tears of cotton
Neath a blanket of vines
Hand woven by time
Old stones with weather erased names
Angels and crosses
Marking loved one's losses
Now trellises covered and stained
The loyal trees stand guard
Over the old graveyard
Like sentinels guarding their queen
As the vines slowly creep
Covering those who sleep
Embracing them while they dream
original poem by Daniel Turner
Categories:
trellises, grave, Lullaby,
Form:
Rhyme
Tufted white-tops
on pale beige staggered-stalks,
the coneflowers crowns
dressed the perennial bed;
leaning precariously against
the conical mushroomesque birdbath.
Snow, soft and wet wrapped the grape arbor like ermine;
making trellises reminiscent of Kanji on a blank page.
Fragile, frozen, flowers hung decoratively,
from frail clematis twined about cedar posts.
Brittle brown maple leaves, left behind by autumn;
drag branches draped,
as in bridal lace to the frosted tarp;
defying winter to do what fall could not.
Conifers cried under the weighty white down.
Their limbs straining not to crack, surrender,
snapping to attention as the day warms.
The snow plops pleasantly to the ground.
Winter waits patiently as the garden dreams.
Categories:
trellises, seasons
Form:
Free verse
wind always knows
it limitation
as it writes its swirling
scripts upon threadbare roof.
lamentations for the
fields of empty prairies
as the dry leaves rustle
in strings of grass…
i do not know
my boundaries
the geographical shapes
of my darkness
for life
has been left empty
with only a puppy
of narrowness
to feed
scraps of plain verse too
how the tail wagged for years
as empty …
i light candles
like images on the window
of my smile
for the sputter of light
is much more reassuring
than the breathless darkness.
i recite my own alphabets
that i have
hidden in the mysteries of my throat
and marvel as the moonlight passes
through the simple words
the trellises of upper
and lower case
shades i have formed
with my craftless hands
and letters
speak upon the glass
of outside
like frost
for i have found my true words
and they fit my squalor
with a strength of calmness
for darkness cannot
abide in smallness
so it leaves me
as the darkest raven
ever imagined…
Categories:
trellises, angst, fantasy, imagination, inspirational,
Form:
Free verse
It was a sizzling summer of electric blues and vibrant hues
in a garden full of flowers inked in plushy spanking reds
a wall of buttress wood splashed with vines of green
a purple morning glory with a touch of dewy sheen
over by a mossy pond a mandarin duck of orangey blue
The sun turns amber like a big fat shimmering coin of gold
in a sky that often blushes fuchsia, pink, by a cloud's enfold
emerald blades of grass behind a white striped skunk
a gradient shade of orange, from a Siberian chipmunk
here by the royal blue bench, a vibrant peacock fans bold
It is a season of rainbow colored rain and red electric trains
in a terrace full of trellises of white, roses bright as Spain
blooming with vigor inside my bright oasis
happily connected to a Revlon kiss,
of cherry berry merry, on a girl named Mary Lou Fontaine
Categories:
trellises, appreciation, summer,
Form:
Limerick
The weather will soon be getting warmer.
Watching economics and politics,
I’m teaching myself to be a farmer--
Anticipating an Apocalypse.
It’s time to rototill my backyard lawn,
And remove decorative plants and weeds.
My ‘raised bed’ ‘square foot’ garden plans are drawn;
Ready to plant heirloom vegetable seeds.
It’s time we start providing for ourselves!
The government’s nearly in bankruptcy.
It’s foolish to expect grocery store shelves
To have food during a catastrophe.
Go buy your trellises and garden string.
Plant your future meals, because here comes Spring.
Categories:
trellises, america, farm, food, garden,
Form:
Sonnet
SPRING GARDEN PREPARATION (20150213)
After the winter season
But before the rains begin
Catalogues of heirloom seeds
Delivered just in time
Earmarked and prioritized
Farmer’s Almanac consulted
Given planting periods
Horoscopes included (but useless!)
Individual seed varieties ordered
Junk mail shredded and added to compost
K (potassium) added as potash
Lumber purchased for trellises
Mulching around transplanted seedlings
Non-Genetically Modified Organisms only
Organic fertilizers only, too
Planting by phases of the moon
Quick-fix pesticides are anathema
(Round-Up kills everything--US, not just weeds)
Seed boxes keeping seedlings warm
Testing the soil for minerals and organics
Unleashing ladybugs and pollinators
Vertical gardening to conserve space
Watering just enough, but not too much
Xenocide, killing unwanted weed species
Youngsters helping (or hindering)
Zoning plants to vary root depths
Categories:
trellises, food, garden, home, life,
Form:
Abecedarian
Harvest Bounty
Season of harvest, horn of plenty;
Tiller of soil reaping the fields:
Grains and legumes, hay and vegetables,
Fruits and plants, and gourd family genuses;
Filling silos, barns, pantries, and cellars.
Grapes abound, on vines climbing trellises,
And plump, red tomatoes dangle from stakes,
While apples grapple to keep from falling,
And livestock fatten on pastoral grasses.
Reaper of fields to feed the many.
Crops quenched by rains and meandering streams
Are ripened under the inexhaustible sun
And spring forth produce abundance in season.
Cornucopia spilling over with autumn goodness.
Categories:
trellises, autumn, farm, thanks, thanksgiving
Form:
Idyll (Idyl)
Far beyond mans intrusions,
A vast hidden world lives on.
An ancient fortress lost amidst,
Historical reference, a faded shade,
Amongst remembrances memory.
Imagination limitless vision,
Separating conscious truth,
And make believers legendary
Spree.
Conjuring mystical thoughts,
Simply, Drifting aloft,
Revealing a forgotten golden age.
Let castaways adventurers fly away
Into magics paradise,
As sunshine's rays, flicker amidst
Mid summers softening light.
Illuminating forgotten stone gardens,
Secret courtyards in splendors array.
Rose covered vines, weaving down
Walled trellises evergreen.
Ruined towers jetting upward,
Blanketed by thickened mosses
Torrents.
Crystal clear water streams, forth
Through cupid fountains.
Nesting song birds, sing loves,
Harmonious music.
Wooing hearts at winged flight.
Glide without tethers strings,
Rejoicing carefree,
Within natures solitude.
Reclining, beside a shaded,
Willow tree I'm resting,
Completely to mine ease.
Watching clouds placing,
Ideally,
By as dusken stars.
Pass beneath nights,
Blackening sky’s.
Knowing at last the beauty,
That is Avalon.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Categories:
trellises, adventure, beautiful, dream, fantasy,
Form:
Free verse
"A House In New Orleans" Contest
Sponsor: Lin Lane
Walking down Bourbon Street I stopped at the 1850 house to see it for myself. The French Quarter is rich with historic homes...homes with fully furnished decorations and you can smell the history of New Orleans the second you walk through the front door. It's considered a jewel of this city and depicts family life during such prosperous period in the city's history. There are many homes and they are visions of such beauty with a good story to go with each one. Oh my, how the trellises reaching towards the sky are filled with such marvelous vines and tall rose bushes. Purple and pink wild flowers that are a sight for sore eyes. So close to your neighbors and sitting on balconies cheering to good food with close family and friends...
French Quarter beauty
Bourbon Street fine history
traveling flowers
You should see it at night..the street's and alley's are crawling with tourists singing and dancing to exquisite soul jazz singers, filling up every square inch of the French Quarter. A divine restaurant with fine food and many drinks. During the night you can't miss the parties and good times shared between people from all over the world. Everyone laughing, singing and dancing all night long. A once and a lifetime visit and the most remarkable citizens living free of life's responsibilities...I finally put the beads around my neck as I enjoyed the Chinese Dragon Parade...
jazz music singers
laughing, dancing, drinks in hand
having fun all night
5th Place Winner
Date Written: January 16, 2016
Categories:
trellises, city, flower, vacation,
Form:
Haibun
Etches of landscapes and silhouettes of faces,
paintings of starlit nights and far off places-
My existence is encompassed by the creative arts,
and with my two bare hands is where it starts.
But lately woodworking has been deep in my heart.
A few pieces of rough cedar to start off my day,
take some short or long nails and hammer away.
Making signs or shelves for myself or my family
so that all can see my heart and soul’s creativity.
I now live joyous with a purpose, o so happily.
My late sister Karen woodworked in her ol’ garage.
She’d make beautiful trellises or create a frame collage.
So now as I stand with all my tools in my hand,
her inspiration and motivation I completely understand.
This hobby was unexpected, so utterly unplanned.
I engrave personal names with a heated pen.
Start at eight in the morn and do it all over again.
There are so projects and ideas stuck in my head,
“you are so very gifted”, my dear husband said.
To an epiphany of aspirations, I have been led.
Now I tell you these things because I’m satisfied
with the artisan woman in me; so hard I’ve tried.
I shall show you just how much I am elated
as in complete happiness I am saturated.
For with these hands from God, beauty I’ve created.
Hobbies Poetry Contest
Julie Leigh Rodeheaver
February 5, 2019
Categories:
trellises, art, inspiration,
Form:
Rhyme
Sweet sounds of every day enriching the life
Empty dark lucky enough into your lights
Life looks in the mirror at its crimson strife
Feeling within how the stars getting bright
As I walk in the garden looking for your window
Curious to collect the crystals from your braid
Towards a home in pomegranate that I know
Unable if I am to make it, I’ll lose the cool shade
An amazing struggle between two colored sparks
Lovely corridors into the world of your red roses
In the lightning and laughter that defy the dark
Zeal absolute for the shaft of light that discloses
An arrival at self designed patterns of joy in love
The words aplenty to speak in a voice of poetry
Intensely waiting inside the golden trophy cup
Of tomorrow, your pleasant trellises look at me
Nice construction and deconstruction, this life
__________________________________________________
11/11/2016
Self Actualization Double Acrostic
Sponsor: San Woo 11/11/2016
Categories:
trellises, emotions, encouraging, image, joy,
Form:
Acrostic