Briars Poems | Examples

Orpheus In The Undergrowth

"As the greatest of all poets and musicians,
tho' you may call me 'liar',
Hermes may have invented it
but I perfected the lyre
and with my music and singing
if only I could see
the forest for the trees
I would coax the woods to dance for me
but, on the other hand
from where I stand,
it appears to be,
looking at it from all angles,
nothing but nettles, brambles
and both
briars and tangles,"
quoth he, Orpheus in the undergrowth.

Through This Weary Way of Silence

Silence, like a glass thrown up in the air
Then exploding, its shards like a nagging echo
Raining on a heart, and it's so unfair
To bleed for love that is not there... Is there, 
Through this weary way of silence, I must go. 

I would turn around then I would not turn around, 
Your smile and glances preserved in my mind, 
And in my heart, reenacting in the sweetest sound, 
The dreamed embrace, the joy missed, the love undefined
Through this weary way of silence, I would find. 

With my eyes abandoned of you, fixed ahead
These weary feet, to nothingness may be led
But at least now with a direction to go, 
One major burial,  strange, a final song in my head
Through this weary way of silence, I know. 

I've seen this before, a walk of nowhere to go
But perhaps, a bluer mojo rain shall fall for me
The road free, clearer, braver, kinder and timely, 
Truth undenied, fear deposed, honesty not in throe
Through this weary way of silence, you know. 

Some-Velvet-Briars/ May 25, 2025/ 2:51 AM

The Abandonment

It was full of long stringy grass which had grown out, all over the back of the house. It hung over the bare walls. The briars were everywhere and they would prick you clean red blooded. The shed widows shattered and the door covered in heavy moss. the thick smoke running out from the chimney looked like it was about to go up in flames. The red ransomes lawnmower was rotted in rust and rooted to the ground by long grass.The clothes line had snapped in half. The tarmac laneway was cracked with weeds pumping out from underneath it all. Remodelling was out of the question. It remained untouched and there was no even sign that anything would change

The Fall of Maleficent

the sky was torn, the heavens burned
as fate, at last, her vengeance turned
the mighty horns, the serpent’s tongue
were drowned beneath the battle’s drum

with blade of light and steel so bright
they struck her down—an end in sight
but shadows writhe where witches fall
and curses live beyond the call

her laughter cracked like breaking bone
a shriek, a wail—a dying throne
yet in her ash, the briars grew
their roots ran deep, their thorns still knew

the castle sleeps, the curse is gone
but in the wind, her voice plays on
for wicked things do not stay dead
they haunt, they wait, they fill with dread

so heed the dark, beware the thorn
where roses bloom, a queen is born

Uni and a Rucksack

Hopped the uni with my rucksack;
speeding off to make a new track
with the tools that one might need to hack a trail.

A pair of loppers for the limbs
and for the ones that need more vim,
there’s a folding saw that almost never fails.

When atop that unicycle,
wonder if the angel Michael
feels a bit like this as I fly ‘round the bend.

Although the archangel’s traject
carries more loft, I do suspect,
I imagine it as through the woods I wend.

Of course, I’ve got some sturdy gloves
‘Cuz Old Man Briar surely loves
to attack at every single chance he gets.

And those briars aren’t dinky;
they’ll rip flesh right off your pinky
and produce a throbbing pain you’ll soon regret.

As I reach my destination,
can’t but marvel at creation
and the blessing that it is to be outside.

Days like these will make you thankful,
like an overflowing tank full,
for a Father who has brought us for the ride.

What is Kneaded

Knead the mind with prayer and reflection
no need to bring in outside deflections.
What you need is already there...
God shined the synapses
lay gold leaf atop gray canyons
where the potential of miracles lie.
It will take at least a lifetime
to realize that petals of tranquility and truth
can survive the most vicious fire.

Deep in the briars of doubt 
within the muck of the mind
dust devil's like to tease
weaving petals to the lye.

Gather up the pristine petals pronto
before they wain-wither- petrify.
Make fantastic arrangements with God.
Be as a ruby throated hummingbird 
traversing crystal time-sipping the nectar of divine.
For what is Kneaded in prayer, becomes what is truly needed within your precious life.

In My Garden

In my garden where love flourished. 
A pale pink running rose once bloomed.   
Gracefully it grew upon the trellis.
Until the oak tree took the sunshine away. 

Each petal a delicate, velvety feeling
Whispers of romance daily entertained.
Its fragrant blooms upon morn's air
Love stories lived beyond compare. 

The housewife gentle and strong
Loved the rose, and here she belonged.
Their love steadily flows.
As the pale pink running rose slowly grows

Life was cut short for the rose.
Gradually its habitat decompensated.
Briars and brambles came up instead.
Wrapped around and soon it was dead

Husband gets a great pleasure out of using roundup especially on windy days.

Bear Hunting

The hunter knelt to check the muddy ground.
He was perplexed. The tracks were heading north.
No bears had caves on this slope of the hill.
The quicksands were not very dangerous
but deep enough to block the wild beast.
The seasoned trapper smiled. The frightened bear 
would be an easy prey, an effortless fur.
The huntsman stepped carefully through the scrubland.
He knew the thick bushes and thorny briars
could conceal venomous spiders or deadly snakes.
He was an ace. On the hilltop, the wind,
with fury, made the limbs of scattered trees
wave in a frantic and infernal dance.
The hunter saw the fearless bear — a king
presiding on a rock — staring at him.
He armed his rifle and picked up his cap,
fallen between the perfectly still weeds.
There was no wind. Not even a slight breeze. 
He raised his head and realized with horror
that the dancing branches were the heads of
a hydra. The man tried to catch a knife.
But with his feet no longer on the ground,
he knew he was its helpless prey to strangle.

Forever

Once upon a time, one of the most heartbreaking tales
ever told - Snow White will not wake up.   Forever,
her husband bruised, as if a true to life witch
threw him off Rapunzel’s tower, and into the briars,
beating, blighting, blinding him. He doesn’t want to see
the world without his bride. Meanwhile, an insipid whiner
behind bars, after her drunken careen and crash,
begs with youthful tears - but…but…they let out murderers,
those who deliberately kill. I told the judge I was sorry…
as if she just took a cookie from a toddler. The golf cart framed
with extreme happiness of bride and groom…celebrants
wishing them well, blessing their union ‘til death do they part.

5/23/2023

Sonnet 78 'so Have I Loved, My Heart Is Nearly Broke'

Dolcezza II

So have I loved, my heart is nearly broke,
The ordinary world hath lost its scope.
The seeded garden briars and weeds do choke,
To hold your hand in mine, my only hope.
You've sown my heart with beauty and with deeds
Of gentleness, of lady-courage rare,
And yet, what stalks have sprouted bend like reeds
And all my words, like branches, are stripped bare.
My love hurts you, no matter how I try,
And you must flee it like a coming storm
I send you rain, but you see fierce snows fly,
And you must run from them unto the warm.
It made no difference!  I intended well,
But well-intentions cannot terrors quell.

Scotty's Bagpipes

Brambles surround Scotty's bagpipes
  Briars sharp, of severest types
    He thought that he could
    Play tunes in a wood
  Instead of music ~ out came gripes



      A tip of the hat to Jeff Kyser,
      whose poem 'Penny Whistle'
      inspired this Limerick. :) gw

Penny Whistle

I’ve got a penny whistle
I made it out of tin
I wander through the thistle
And traipse across the glen
A tune for bonnie lassie
On this wee flute I built
Soon as I get untangled
From the briars in my kilt

Before Memorial Day

Momma lies in the old, old cemetery --
[A space] and then her third grandchild
Stillborn after long, disappointing labor.
Now largely neglected, I go when I can
Seldom seeing a living soul thereabout,
I put money in a caretaker’s wooden box
Hoping he’ll mow the old section clean
Of thistles, and briars, and overgrowth
Before Memorial Day.

The older generation are buried there,
Grands and greats from the old country
Come to work the mines, buy farmland,
Start afresh in the new world overseas.
Their progenies are in a new cemetery
Perpetual care, a few miles to the west
With a luxurious-looking mausoleum,
Flat stones and always well-manicured
Before Memorial Day.

Written August 9, 2022

My Tongue, Drooling

Sunshine summer raining down
On naked breath, hope
Racing to meet the echoes
Promises awakened on the caress
Of light, stirring, silencing
Every dark thought – as my fingers work
Struggling to grasp every plump 
Blackberry without grazing the thorns
From the briars where such blessed
Goodness survives the showers
Who pound away at the earth, erasing
Every doubt that this luscious 
Flavor, blackberry heaven, could ever
Be surpassed by any other suggestion
Extract of sweetness, delectableness
The taste of blackberry ecstasy
Awaiting my drooling tongue, it’s destiny!






Your Thoughts On Blackberries Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Matt Caliri 
July 28, 2022

The Old Rusty Gate

The Old Rusty Gate

Bright sunbeams puddle on a summer road,
Lazy bumblebees rise up with the heat,
Leads to a rusty gate, mysteries bode,
Barrier opens wide, invites come retreat.

A garden gate where pale lilac plumes lounge,
Secluded secrecy of hollyhocks,
Where snarled blackberry vines freely abound
With tangled climbing roses and white phlox.

Abandoned garden grows in wild array
Behind the gate that each day spawns more rust
Untended briars – forlorn nights - sad days –
Footpaths clog with the spells of ragged dusts.

Season’s pass, erase footprint signatures
‘Til life blooms from rusty gate overtures.

6-23-22
Contest: One in Five
Sponsor: Joseph May
Title Chosen: The Old Rusty Gate

• Short Briars Poems
• Famous Briars Poems
• Best Briars Poems
• Read Briars Poems
• Long Briars Poems
• Briars Quotes