Best Vine Poems

She denied him ...
her first true love, yet she would not speak him
the reason so absurdly trifling that
it was gone from her memory ... completely
still, she clung to it like a bible
not a thought given to
his name or care or visage
in many a year ...
death...

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PARTY VINE

The Sweet Pea is a social climber,
behind your back, a wisenheimer.
In the night it wields its powers,
Sweet Peas strangle other flowers.

Sweet Peas think the rainbow's somber,
they use the Fall to upstage umber.
They twirl tulle skits in every tint,
cheat the rose and pungent mint.

The splendid...

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Your death did steal my breath and heartbeat like a thief,
     
     I’m nothing but a dying tree without a leaf -
   
     barren branches bland reaching skyward in drab brown...

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When your ambition didn’t tally with mine, 
we had to learn to steer a common course. 
Our earlier dreams withered on the vine 

Our individual pasts were our source. 
In the interest of our joint future 
we had to learn to steer a common course....

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A Vine in Winter – 2-18-25
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A Vine in Winter

January wakes
Whispers with kisses of snow
In floating bits of crystals
Catching weak beams of sunlight
Glinting on Lovestones of the misty isles
Where dewdrops quiver
Beneath the wand of hoarfrosts.

Tendrils colored in evergreen,
Not beholden to time or seasons
Or hibernation’s demand, pulse.

Silent...

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The house down the street is under wraps
With hazard suits milling in its flaps

The one with the garden most luscious
Now being trampled beneath all the ruckus

The lady with the green thumb it's suggested
Has been by her Venus Fly Trap ingested




17.10.17

Composed for Kevin Shaw's
"Daft and Surreal"...

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Thorns upon a wilted vine
hidden within my flower bed
Through and about they do twine
From my flesh, the color red

Hidden within my flower bed,
my emotions do languor
From my flesh, the color red
weeps, yet I feel no anger

My emotions do languor
Though the ancient Willow tree
weeps, yet I...

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Jesus Is the Vine.
I am the branch, Jesus is the vine.
For I am his, and he is mine.

To remain in him,
I'll bear good fruit.
This is God's command so absolute.

God, the gardener, comes
to trim and to prune.
For he wants me to
blossom and to bloom.

Bearing good fruit...

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orange trumpets call
from the insatiable green –
fanfares of summer...

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This story I am about to unfold,
is a favorite about my Grandfather.
In which he starts out acting very bold,
yet ends, running up a painful lather.

Down the dirt road, where he lived, when young,
was a farmer growing watermelons.
Ripe, ready to eat, on the vines they hung.
From...

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When trouble haunts my every move
and tongues wag at me to disapprove
of all the things I've done or didn't do,
you are the one who sees me through.

You are like a vine growing on a wall,
the reason why I never crumble and fall,
the ally whose arms...

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He loved fruit of the vine when out to dine

     It made his head whirl with feeling divine

          But he got behind the wheel

        ...

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Am part of this great plant
the stem feeds me, holds me,
holds me up high to the sun
lets me have the best of being.
It gives me life, a life I have

Am a branch on this plant
i hold the fruit of this plant
my fruit is as good...

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bittersweet vine
twist like pipe curls on a finger
blue birds sings

bird song arias
wake the sun-soaked cat napping
feathers fly

down laced twigs
incubate the Robin’s blue eggs
puss licks his whiskers

lofted sparrow hawk
warm basket of new born kittens
noon whistle...

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Unjustly stymied, down by law,


The good citizen balks, throws his -


Monkey wrench into the grinding gears of society:


"They all be damned."


But freed, aided, 


The good citizen (Way, will) makes straight that path,


Turns forward the Great, Lasting Wheel of Society,


For the benefit of all....

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