Long Apple tree Poems

World's Longest Love Poem (second edition)


Title: My love my all

Edited by Izunna Okafor


Editor's Note:

Out of their ardency, eighteen poets and poetry lovers identified with the need to give the 2020 Valentine celebration a poetic taste...

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Cosmology + Ontology = Cosmontology 

NEW Cosmontological Principle: Be SO SO humble! 

>>> SEE NOTE BELOW 

A Sufi Dream-Poem--Our purposefully "proto-conscious" UNI-ballish recycling?

By: Moji Agha
Started on Oct. 26, 2020

You know?
Being a microtubular cosmontologically proto-conscious
goofy sufi...

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Once Upon a Time Everything was Perfect in Eden, NSW, Australia

This is a story about why snakes are reluctant to leave whenever you see them. 
Why they hang about, instead of scurrying off.
A reluctant snake...

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Perhaps too redundantly,
and not quite octave-eloquently enough,
we have pictured Original Yang/Yin ReGenerative/DeGenerative CoArising Intent
as LeftBrain Patriarchal EgoDominant
with a preference for WinLose,
defined as Either-Or thinking
with fundamentalist vertical power hierarchical assumptions
that LeftElite will always remain conservatively On...

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Joulupukki began, 
     “I have been thinking about the causality and the circumstances surrounding the events that occurred this morning.”
Gwaldon made a display of searching around with his head turning it...

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The weeds have sheathed the garden from its care as more nails than wood appear of a house lacking adjectives. A sun liberated from scathing entrapment amongst an overburdened forest whose boughs are heavily laden...

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What once was a peaceful delightful place 
Joyful and friendly creatures in God’s grace
A stunning morning a soulful sunrise
A village heaven has gifted a prize
The most grandiose of rainbow arches
The villagers spirited because March is
The...

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The little stall stands behind the black dilapidated wall whose bricks have been showing years of stained motion welled up inside the folly of man. The destiny of the wall speaks to the nature of...

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I walk along the old familiar path in the wood of my childhood -
the place that I willingly abandoned  
for the lure of new friends and activities 
that carried me ever farther from my...

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Poet Identity

In conversations,
In biographies,
In resumes…all poets are writers,
    but not all writers are poets.
On a careful look into the mirror, when not looking
    for wrinkles, but staring deep into...

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It remains my tightly held Health and WellBeing intention,
for the good of me,
yes,
but for everyone, eventually,
to continue to Win now,
although I realize this requires further Loss of and by Others
who may justifiably feel Earth's survival...

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I grew up in Poortown 
A mile down the road 
From hard topped streets 
Where Miss Eleanor lived 
She sat on the front porch 
Smoking ready rolled 
Eating brought on peaches 
And she would hide...

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The pride of life is not humbling grace                           ...

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Love and Gratitude
                                ...

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I'm planting trees today.
Cherry trees in front,
Peter on the street,
Paul in the middle,
with Mary closest in toward the house,
all on the far side of our gravel drive.

On the same southern side,
along my neighbor's new above...

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Past unconcerned hens that distractedly 
Scratch
Under frowning protestations from the
Sheltered Lee;
Into the cloaked shadows lain across the 
Cobbled courtyard,
Behind which squats the twisted form of
The old brooding, arthritic apple tree.
Past the neat little cow-byre 
Hosed...

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Long ago and far away
In a town called Mellongourd,
There was a boy who tried his hand
At training with a sword

The boy was young and energetic,
But not quite agile and free.
He stumbled and bumbled and tripped...

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Primose path leads to the slaughter of American
dream delete pause proficiency with internetty
webbegone after thoughts of yahoo googleyed 
interred intricacies that shed benign capsules of
 mom entary apple pie delquiences cooling 
the soul shopping for...

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My, to be the last go round
last breath of a journey's dream 
to find in one each filling need
to picture them in every scene

Is it really possible to love so deep
so as to last while...

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This day is hot and bright and  fills my weary eyes,
and while sleep is gone it lies in wait.
The years have gone and the weeds have come. 
The dandelions are hard hot yellow in...

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Not like a figwort but not an aster, either. Could he be a buttercup
with sepals, no petals, but sepals like petals? Alan is a bluebeech,
an ash if his books sell. Quick shake hands. Zach's bald...

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My Missing Muse

I have tried to write as of late,
but my mind has become a true blank slate.

My keyboard is bored and my ideas are bland.
I have to think of something grand.

Lately I lack poetic...

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Monah Kaur and Robert Kumar fled from London, came to ‘Hindustan’; tied the knot
The 'Singhs' stopped their songs and 'Kumars at no. 42' burnt their studio; this rebellion; they will forget not
A petite piece of...

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I remember, I remember my garden of joy,                           ...

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Apple Tree

I do not know why, but for the longest time, it has been assumed that I was in the Garden of Eden. I’ve been seen in gardens, orchards, and the yards of many people,...

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