Tree Italian Sonnet Poems

COLOURFUL 

        Allium is raising king Spring’s alarm
        Easter red bud...

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Doom smiles at us all, so we smile back.
Wilted petals on the Tree of Life don't die.
A most modest craftsman or a devil's eye.
All will...

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Beguiling spring, how bold your arrogance
You shameless season painted in conceit
Parading up and down each city street
O'er hill, through dale, you flaunt your elegance

Each tree,...

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Remote within the piney wood
so far away from nearest ear,
and out of reach for one to hear
a tree lies still where it once stood.
As it...

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If gifts were hung like tempting ripened fruit,
forbidden to but one the tree would share;
what turmoil would possess my thoughts to bear
when tossed in sweet...

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Beneath the tall and sparkling Christmas Tree,
are presents wrapped and stacked in neat array-
a picture-perfect holiday bouquet,
with graceful boughs outstretching equally.
Yet, here among the gifts,...

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Your beauty is like my passion for you
Succulent as a blossom from a buttercup tree in spring
My longing heart rises to the drums of ...

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Early Spring

The tree became reborn when time was right.
At dawn it shed a bud that was blood red.
Upon the moist Spring ground, it stained and...

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I’ve gone outside to sit nearby my tree,
which bloomed this April, and on the first day!
With pen in hand (the good old-fashioned way)
I pause –...

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A pewter mirror cracks in veins of jade,
ensconced I've been in winter's house of drear.
Aback I'm taken, palpable my fear
to see my likeness in such...

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When I say peace, what comes into your mind?
Some fantasy, a world where there's no wars
No soldiers setting foot on foreign shores
Where weapons of destruction...

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About head high, two bluebirds built a nest
Outside my window, in a young oak tree
They built their house complete with nursery
Last spring she chirped a...

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Above the clouds, beyond the tree she stays.
Remaining thus, the moon is chaste for now,
Allowing not her well-worn face to show
The many scars belying better...

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It’s a dimly lit, darkly entombed spot
Here sits a lone black weeping willow tree
Night encroached leaving nothing you can see
Its cold, nothing about this place...

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This Christmas started out just the same 
as all thee other one's I mean mom 
baking her famous fruit cake 
while my two aunt argue...

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