Grove Poems - Poems about Grove

"The Wife's Lament" or "The Wife's Complaint" is an Old English/Anglo Saxon poem found in the Exeter Book, which has been dated to 960-990 AD, making it the oldest English poetry anthology. "The Wife's Lament" may be the oldest extant English poem written by a female poet. The Wife's Lament loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch I...

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When I was just four, Baba would walk me through the olive groves, his land stretching endlessly, acres of trees—each one a memory, each one rooted deep in the soil of home. He’d set up a ladder for me, let me climb, picking the dark, ripe olives from the branches heavy with history. “Go inside,” he’d say, “bring a bucket of water.” I ran, feet light...

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Once Upon a long ago time, when the earth was full of abundant life; and humans, who now have dominion, were but a distant star in the night… Everything in this magical Kingdom had a spark of awareness and a soul, that humans claim now belongs to them and them alone. The mountains of grandeur, those great...

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Aphorism Plus “How Long Did I Dream”by Lou Breese and His Version: ...

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In the grove of life, where the fields of time were greening with beginnings, I spotted you, the naked shadow, a birth from the depth of the holy nothingness. You crossed its silent threshold, coming with empty hands at dawn, Unveiling yourself of the shroud of non-being, watched over by stars and the moon. You embraced the universe, armed...

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Redolent spring air aromatic breath of life sublime lemon grove...

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Written: September 17, 2023 ______________________________________________________________ In the misty, morbid moors of winter mantle, Meadows lay barren in gray shades and prattle. Skies, akin to canvas, drawn with grief and woe, Skylarks seek shelter as spartan spurs stow. Wind whispers weakly, a woebegone wound. Silence slopes set the slues, a solemn sound. Bark of ancient trees bears the scars of time. Sinew firmly in the...

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In the bamboo grove where sunbeams gently shine, Emerald leaves glisten, a vibrant lifeline, Through bamboo's pores, the wind's sweet serenade, Melodious music in the grove is made. Parrots, cuckoos, and mania birds take flight, In this colorful haven, they find their delight, Bamboo's lesson, in the storm, it does convey, Strength and flexibility on a gusty day. Survival's idol, in harsh weather's...

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Orange grove goddess of the Florida Keys Citrus in her veins, rejuvenation in her step Oozing fruity frothy saccharine sweetness We tiptoe around her swirling juices Fearful of her wrath if her trees dry up She is not a nice goddess when angered Bringing in tsunamis and other disasters Shh! That’s her I caution the wind. The ocean knows better than to irritate...

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A burning desire within my soul, a rippling affect was taking hold And with each mile, down the winding road, a sycamore, birch, or elm would grow. And then behold the greatest stage, upon this porch, aligned in shade Not laughing eyes nor beaming torch But a tear would drop with each recourse. Then words like melodies would resonate, and each one shared...

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Springtime orange grove Fresh and fragrant blossoms bloom Inhaling deeply Revived by cycle of life Caressed by playful sweet breeze....

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During this unsettling time I find much relief walking beside the lemon grove. I take my time on the same route every day. How the lemons and my life has changed. The trees have already flowered and small green lemons appeared. Soon they grew larger and bright yellow. As I walk each day ripe lemons fill the...

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Fairies pirouette through the dew drops. A duet of crickets fills the forest with a mist upon the lane. Sunlight sprays sporadic patterns of light upon the trees. The rhythm of spring jumps from trunk to trunk. She passes this way daily skipping between the pools of dew that lay themselves bare upon the cobbled path. What moment could more joyous...

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get up do this don't just sit health is weath get up get up move rock that chair don't just stare DANCE TO THE REHADE GROVE...

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In a pleasant grove where fairies ride on dragonflies with iridescent wings, they say it’s here the Blue Bird of Paradise sometimes comes, and when he comes, he sings. Legend has it long ago as if from nowhere appeared someone who was a princess fair. Loved by all the creatures of the pleasant grove, she had eyes crystal blue and flaxen...

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