Conifers Poems | Examples

angry conifer

Angry Conifers

Trees in the avenue
have a weird sense
of humor
Long roots cracking up
finely laid cobble stone 
pavement
Slightly bent easterly
give pain in the lower
trunk
The younger trees
bleat about older trees
taking space
Older trees show
distain of needy trees
no dignity
Trees are silent
lack imparting skills
shake leaves

Forests of Green Coniferous Trees

Forests of Green Coniferous Trees

Forests of evergreen conifers
(Fir, spruce, cedar, pine, and hemlock trees)
Keep their colour throughout the seasons
And don’t shed foliage in autumn.

Rooted in soil and basking in sunlight,
They grow on hillsides and in valleys,
Encircling rock outcrops, swamps, and leas,
And near rivers and lakes, and on islands.

These hearty trees endure nature’s throes
Of cold, harsh, winters to warm spring thaws,
Thriving in summer and fall to help provide
A habitat for the forest dwellers.

Conifer pollen and seed cones pollinate,
And fertilized seeds disperse on windy days
—Or get stashed away by squirrels and birds—
And grow into stately coniferous trees.

lost in the evergreen forest

.

                        lost in the
                         conifers
                            the 
                   bristlecone pines

                       out her cry
                            goes
                az Jane uv the jungle
                             to i
                          her lost

All Aboard

Softly the snow falls from a silent diamond studded sky 
while inside the musicians play soft mellow Christmas music  
on fine tuned guitars, magical flutes and ebony keys 

An angel breath away from Christmas Santa's village 
is humming with excitement, ivory go karts come and go   
carrying toys for all children of the earth  

O'er by the conifers, Old Saint Nick parks his shiny red sleigh 
as the town clock strikes midnight a magical voyage begins 
from an aerial view you can spot the old train coming into view

All Aboard !!!

Christmas Traditions

Christmas comes but once a year
For us all to spread some cheer. 
How we do it is unique 
Others need not critique. 
Your traditions are your own
Don’t let others put them down. 
Our traditions make us special 
Be they different — still sentimental. 

Decorations and lights play there parts
The day after Thanksgiving is when it all starts
We demonstrate our faith in the Lord above
By showing others our respect and love. 
Expensive gifts are not required 
As businesses have inspired. 

From cacti to conifers
For treasures to others. 
And stockings or shoes
For goodies like cashews. 
The intent is the same
Sentiment is the name. 
This is the time of year
To show kindness for those we hold near. 

From homemade cards to store bought gifts
And homemade foods to store bought grits. 
Gifts can be made or bought,
What matters is the thought.
Too often we lose sight of its meaning
We give praise to God — the supreme being.

Bathed In Sunshine

a fawn frolics free 'cross the meadow
    coat aglow, bathed in sunshine
  her young buck sleeps apace, never stirring
    wrapped in arms of conifers, tall pines
 
  the fawn pauses to sniff the chill forest
    sorrow's torment streams toward her heart  
  shots ring out, dogs bay, crimson sky ~
    archers yawn, another fawn's cry

Sky Island

saguaros 
guardians of the sonora
a battalion wafting 
in one hundred degree heat 
standing sentry on granite slopes
vertical green etches
in carmel cliffs
literally--litter the foothills

rising up the mountain 
saguaros fall away

ocotillos remain
their leafy tentacles flailing
like upside down tarantulas
dotting the crevices and shelves
along with mexican oak

climbing higher
ocotillo give way 
to arizona cypress, alligator juniper,
and too many nondeciduous oaks to name
desert? what desert?
temperature's dropped to sixty four

at six thousand feet 
aspen and maple emerge
a little further
along come all the conifers
tall dark forests of
douglas fir and ponderosa pine

nearing the summit there's...
snow? not snow. in august?
no, not snow. really?

nine thousand feet
corkbark fir and a
couple of spruce
it's now a cool
fifty two

town on top 
we stop
baby needs hoody
and hot chocolate

grandpa needs 
to fathom it all
fifty miles, 
six thousand five hundred feet
below
it's one hundred and three


sky island
not overrated

The Ballad of John Muir Woods

The Ballad of John Muir Woods

	
	I squint at the splendid morning sun	 
	golden filtered bright rays conveyed.	
	Speaking they say, sit, little one		 
	rest a spell in our noble shade.

	I squint at this forest of titans
	sitting, I wait for more whisperings.
	They weigh my thoughts across the breeze
	you are part of our air, they sing.

	Youth returns in kaleidoscopes
	sprightly green patterns swiftly shift.
	Tinged golden from morning’s new hope
	their harmony in sea breezes drift.

	These conifers sprout from stump and boast
	wildness, our need is undisputed.
	Redwoods, the glory of Cali’s coast
	engage me and call me beloved. 

	DE Fullerton

Snowy Stream

Amongst barren winter trees
                                   Snow caps on a rippled stream
                                   Conifers sway in the breeze
                                   Images resonate winter dreams







    True poetry form: Lind30
    Newly created by Robert Lindley
    7/7/7/9

Upon a December Morn

I wake to crystals upon the white-dusted fields;
Billowing fog creeps around a logged-cabin.
The blazing fire of the smoky chimney yields
The frigid dews that drips from the icy pellets
Of the rosy ruby ribbon made from satin.

Overcasting clouds of haze grants us snow.
For the caramel drops upon the cocoa fox,
Scatters for warmth to bare it must grow.
To leave home to his vixen of bronze socks
That whimpers and howls through the winds blow.

Pebbles upon the icy stream skip and hop down,
The scouring cloves of gems with a drop profound
The earthly pleasures by the river bank of frost.
By tall conifers meeting the paths that crossed,
To other lands beyond the wintry battles around.

September

Dawn breaks,
the sun awakes-
an eerie mist bedecks
the stark conifers in a light
blue shawl.

out of focus
at the edge of my gaze
bathed in sun
a sepia rose haze

the draught ends
berries rot
    beneath the
bramble

 sun setting low,
Fall in all its golden glow;
anticyclones 
    hold transient sway

Hereabout the Alps

Masterful!  

   lordly framed 
    picturesque rain stain
   ing icy cap summit’s height, 

vaulting off grassy green 
 pediplain’s sloping foothills, 
impinging azure sky’s obscur
 ing clouds.  

   blazing sunbeam painted 
    freshet rush to where river-rocks 
   are the fairest. 

rosy-finch, gray-crowned, 
 bathe cross-winds breeze clink
ing conifers lazing at the frost rich shore, 
 river flow, embolden splendor.  

   the poetics surrendered? 
    ingest’d without disturbance,— by us,  
   graylings are of abound... thus!

In the Forest of My Dreams

Where conifers gaily waltz tempos evergreen
Unspoiled by human deeds, pure, and pristine,
Eagles soar there, spanning freedom wings 
And trees gently whisper to rhythmic bird trills
Echoing grey owls, blue jays, robins, crossbills,
Hopping, jumping, circling, frolicking in breeze
Reveling with hatchlings, feeding on berries
As sun rays filtering-in on wildflowers glow
Oscillating shadows in gusting, windy, woes
Amidst bears’ huffs, woofs, raging ugly growl
When raccoons coyly snarl at foxes’ feral-howl
Hiding from pitter-patter of tropical rainfall
In heavenly paradise as birdsongs toll daylong
Serenading the land where liberty is paramount
In forest of my dreams’ blossoming sanctuary~
A temple, a hideaway, a refuge, an ecosystem,
A reserve for humanity, a shrine for sanctity,
In equilibrium, edifying calmness and peace
Where elixir of sacred life flows in holy streams
Sustaining earth’s renewal in tranquil harmony.

April 17, 2021
Placed 3rd: In the forest of my dreams premium contest
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
Placed 1st: All yours (Apr 24) contest

Poets Pulse

Weepy and willowy
   purple and greening…

Green and purpling vines,
Landowners between the lines.
Beyond the willowing pines,
Spring’s surplusity sublime.

Weepy and willowy
   purple and greening…

Conifers a leap, in front of creek,
reminiscent-flooding was not meek.
Caught in my wide eye that week —
the bubbling serendipitous freak.

Weepy and willowy
   purple and greening…

Wraparound fence a lá wisteria blooms.
Honey and carpenter bees, hornets zoom,
‘round about its heady-cocktail’d perfume.
All aboard the buzz of springtide costume.

      Weepy and willowy
   purple and greening
Spring is a-leaping and lording
raising a poet’s pulse, an unpreventable affording 
of contentment—
  sickness of singing feathers, courting
     unforgettable fetters
        of magical colors, supporting

one’s cause for rhyming
   hypnotic, its timing…

3/31/2021

Himalayan Monal

Imagine me the creature in broad daylight 
with green metallic crest
as I flaunt a copper plumage wild and free
whilst feathering my nest
native of the Himalayan range I scale
the sun drenched mountain peaks
the zoom and swoop spirit I encapsulate 
when skimming gold vein creaks

I dwell on red oak conifers or alpine 
meads bound by rock-strewn ware
pale blue eye patch forager whose curved bill dig
unearths a snow crust fare
coruscating migrant over altitudes
whose bone chill turf I fly
rooster among canopies I hatch my brood 
with poignant shrubland cry.


I am a Bird - Personification
Tania Kitchin   Sponsor 
Date submitted  26th July 2020

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