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.
Where the humdrum ends
A morning waits when roosters crow in vain,
and stunned eyes are awed by the rising sun.
When nostrils savor the dewy terrain,
as ears tune in to magpies’ chirping fun.
Soon a dawn will bloom and change the asphalt
To hordes of marigolds across lush leas,
where squirrels scramble and leporids vault,
while laughter echoes under maple trees.
There must be somewhere far from the black smoke,
beyond the traffic drone and ticking clock,
beneath the soothing shade of the white oak,
where the grass grows along the freedom walk
There, breeze and soul befriend, and humdrum ends
to trend a new era where life transcends.
Many-hued pubs bid me welcome
As would friends on the street
And so does Cromwell Bridge
Where long ago we first met.
I see the fields where we played
And plucked up the kerry violets.
I gaze out over the dark bay
Reflecting our lives as glass.
Memories live but a season
And like a photograph
And erelong, I will be as one
Fading - crumbling fast.
When you are old and banjaxed
Will you still remember
And find there my countenance
Among the leas of Kenmare?
whate'er the sun
hunts up the sky
is meant, as lace
to grace the eye
in dazzled dreams
that dance a-sea
and weep that fills
the rills and leas
for what light paints
in day's dear death
can gift one’s gaze
yet steal the breath
as eve’s dark bloom
thus burgeons, ours -
sweet butt’ry moons
… and silvered stars.
( for the “No 1256 New Poem Only” Poetry Contest, Brian strand, Judge/Sponsor )
Brecon Beacons
for pony-treks
Cumbrian fells
& bubbling becks
Dartmoor
with rocks rain scarred
Lake District views
beloved of bards
Northumbria on moor & hill
where Roman echoes linger still
Stone-bridged hamlets
in the Dales
with enclosed leas along its vales
Snowdonia one thousand yards high
reached by slow trains up to the sky
Pembroke with its distant trail so long
heritages for us to protect & prolong
National treasures to preserve & enjoy
by rich,the famous &hoi poloi.
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2007
Desultory thoughts drift round hazy aura,
swiftly flipping folios mottled by time.
Tattered snapshots emanate sadness and joy,
yesterday’s archives.
Softly creeping reveries sashay feelings,
forming ever imminent fervent cravings,
tender written curlicues of hope and love,
harvested daily.
Peregrinate dreams glide through lucid portals,
traverse leas of ravenous risky passion,
driven by pure avarice changing values,
forging tomorrows.
Not for contest
09.03.21
Somewhere through Eden’s leas
skulks our forgotten foe.
Seraph of God, now a
slithering trickster who
swayed Eve to taste vile fruit.
Salvation fell away;
sin dwells in mankind’s heart.
4/21/2021. Written for Kim Merryman's Pleiades S contest.
Come to the forest with me
To become invisible and free,
Under the canopy
Listening to catbirds happily.
Come to the forest with me
To sit with up risen weeds,
Where foxes play
Seeing skies blue or gray.
Come to the forest with me
To feel dewy grass under our feet,
In groves of ancient birches
We'd celebrate in rainbow'd mirth.
Come to the forest's leas
Where we dreamt of teas
Brewed o'er campfires flames
Hearing leaves singing our names.
Why the deep, dark valleys in my life,
Why the high peaks of heavenly rife,
Why the unfertile and fruitless leas,
Answer me, O Silence, answer me?
Must I live and die in netherworld,
Frozen in a paralyzed curl,
In search of light beyond dark of night,
Believing life is incessant strife?
The highs that lift me upward to God,
The lows that bury me in foul sod,
Days cast out upon bellowing seas,
Answer me, O Silence, answer me?
In the darkness I seek out and try,
To understand and mull over why,
There seems to be no curative balm,
To heal a soul that’s, empty of calm.
Are you so aloof that you don’t care,
Do you think my illness is too rare,
Are you fully clad in apathy,
Answer me, O Silence, answer me?
How long must I voice this fervent plea,
To be set free from this malady,
I grow tried playing this hide and seek,
O Silence, wake up and answer me?
Mine ne'er to be, yet mine always;
Laura, spirit of dawn. Darkest night
Cannot hide thee nor obscure thy rays.
Though Black Death hath by his temporal right
Claimed thee, dost thou, my love , indwell this heart.
Though Charon's hammer this clay vessel break,
The winds ne 'er scathed by Time's envenomed dart
Shall of its pure content aye possession take
And spread abroad thy fragrance to all Man,
Fill the valleys and linger o'er the seas.
'Tis not my part all future times to scan,
But thankfully to muse by pastures, groves and leas,
Await thy returning, nightly count the hours
"Till I rejoice with singing birds and flowers."
By river banks I saw such scenes
as might enchant an angel's gaze.
They gladdened many a childhood hour
and filled my youthful heart with praise.
Onwards, onwards my bark glided,
where waters flowed by open leas,
past greening woods where lad and lass
cast apple blossoms to the breeze.
Onwards, onwards, my bark glided,
on the gently lilting stream
past fenced gardens, stately houses,
rewards of toil with due esteem.
Past beeches, bays and boughs of ash,
past golden leaves on many a tree,
onwards, onwards, my bark glided,
onwards, onwards, to the sea.
Poppies blossom in a field
Where young men once fought
Their stories now forgotten
As are the lessons that were taught
It's blood red petal
Is caught by the breeze
It's flight brief and glorious
Falling on Europe's leas
A mother's hopes come crashing
With fists knocking on the door
Grim faces hide emotion
Another casualty of war
A hundred years have now passed
With lives still being lost
Leaders chests still being beaten
Detached feelings of the cost
The Great Meadow
Beyond the high hedge the great meadow extends to the sky
Its fallow grasses fanned into waves by a breeze.
While down the slope the bearded barley and rye
Make a downy golden fabric that clothes the leas
The largest field in England, so it's opined
Though a child beside an endless Kansas prairie
Beneath heavens that can be reached by heart and mind
No distant scene but a piece of homeland friendly
As I walked its hidden life became revealed
A pheasant ran with ungainly comic indignity
A startled cat leapt from a nest concealed
And a sky lark rose to sing an unfettered symphony
Across the counties were such prospects planned
From days when mighty shires hauled their wains
And still the fields and hedgerows shape the land
So let it ever green and pleasant remain
Brecon Beacons for pony-treks,
Cumbrian fells and bubbling becks;
Lake District views beloved of bards
Stone-bridged hamlets in the
Dales with enclosed leas along its vales.
Snowdonia ,one thousand yards high
reached by slow trains up to the sky.
Pembroke with its distant trail so
long,
heritages for us to protect and prolong.
National treasures to preserve and
enjoy by rich,...the famous ...and hoi poloi.
Let me sneeze
if you please
on some pleas
(from their knees)
"Stop the cheese"
Akin to fleas
rampant in leas
annoying as bees
or losing keys
they - a disease
Strive to seize
with their commentaries
and narcissistic decrees
aimed to appease
ego sized trees
May have degrees
but no boundaries
one really needs
couth for these
novices writing poetries
One should freeze
before spreading fallacies
full of hypocricies
spewing out idiocracies
wheezing only sleaze
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