Long Aspen Poems
Long Aspen Poems. Below are the most popular long Aspen by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Aspen poems by poem length and keyword.
Here I stand as cool as the wind, heavenly rain drops, my lord showers me with his mist. hail
proceeds, mother natures nurturing hand turns to a fist.
Nearby,
an aspen, short and bulky sways with her current, dancing to a wind song.
A dramatic sequence occurs, raindrops beat the pavement acting as drums. Wind songs
sound of tambourine and the aspen sings her melody, each leaf its own entity.
All with a different tone,
She smells like lilac perfume....
Is she a she?
Or is she a he?
A natural figure, a figment of ones own preference. Mother nature represents the world .
From the cirrus and strattus clouds, to a picture perfect sunset. Mountains that span high into
a distant horizon, or the weeping willow whose inspirational position gives beauty its
definition....
.....2009.....JP
I was gently awakened by euphonic cooing
of mated doves perched on aspen branches
whose golden leaves rustled sweet silver songs
I rushed to open my wooden dormer window
and hum a greeting to their soft morning trills
With hands splayed on the ancient stone sill
my face welcomed the sun's auroral warmth
I felt the chill of Autumn's breath biting the air
and exhaled in contented sighs of appreciation
for the stunning beauty of this mountain valley
To paint nature's colors without dreary compromise
would require a far greater artistic hand than mine
While gazing from my cabin's primitive casement
I descried a canvas stippled in blazing pastoral hues
framed by the rustic charm of my bedroom window
On a beautiful Fall day I go for a walk,
the trees are changing on my block,
birds are chirping . . .
I hear the loud call of a hawk.
In the fading park the sweet ducks are still drifting,
around the season is shifting,
I love this change . . .
oh those colored leaves are uplifting.
The Maples, Birch and Aspen by nature painted,
all the falling beauties tainted,
fluttering down . . .
the trees have been finger-painted.
________________________
September 13, 2020
Poetry/Rhyme/Beauties Tainted
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1286-417-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, Autumn-Fall Rhyme Challenge
sponsor, Tania Kitchin
Ninth Place
—Nothing, Save the Ache—
I adore stars that tremble through thy hair,
The forest breathing musk into the dark,
The moon's pale argent sleeping on the sea,
The falls that hasten toward an unseen will;
I adore the steed in brazen greaves,
Its warm breath whitening the winter air,
Its bridle chimes, small silver bells of dusk.
No star resents the worship of mine eyes;
I ask no light to stoop because I gaze,
But stand beneath the vastness and adore.
I adore violet's dusky perfume,
The rose that slowly opens to the dawn,
The lily's pallor, gold of daffodils,
The aspen trembling underneath the wind,
The winter sun laid softly on thy cheek,
The summer rain entangled in thy hair.
I venerate what will not be possessed.
I adore God, whom no eye hath beheld;
I ask no miracle, nor throne, nor sign,
But only this: be near me; be with me.
Then why doth my awe trouble thee at all?
Why doth my gaze make sanctuary recoil?
What claim lies hidden in my reverence?
What chain is forged by eyes that ask no bond?
I bring no hunger dressed as tenderness;
I seek no tribute from thy mouth or hands.
The rose withdraws not from the lips of dawn;
The sea resents not moonlight on her breast.
Why shouldst thou fear the gaze that asks no thing?
Why should being adored become a wound?
Perhaps adoration is the art
Whereby the hand learns not to close its grasp;
Where nearness burns possession from the soul,
And touch becomes a silence of the skin;
Where thy breath alters all the listening dark,
Yet I would sooner lose thee than confine.
One night I saw the firmament collapse
Within thine eyes, as though the vault of heaven
Were but a veil through which the nameless breathed,
Beyond the reach of all that language keeps.
And so I shall adore thee as the earth
Receives the rain, yet shackles not the fall;
As night receives the moon and lets her pass;
As flowers take the sun, then yield their scent.
Come near, if thou wouldst; vanish, if thou must.
I shall not forge a prison from desire.
My awe requires no answer but thy being.
I need not have thee for thee to remain
The wound my freedom gives me to survive.
Go where thou wilt; I shall not call thee back—
For thou art mine in nothing, save the ache.
The cry of an eagle floats across a distant peak
bear tracks visible in the spring thawing snow
Sunlight, spreading its dance upon the land
the Ponderosa Pine and Aspen in bloom
The glaciers look down smiling the higher you climb
searching for that redemption never offered below
The wolf trails the hare back inside its snowy den
the road to all new entry having now been cleared
Permission never asked for, granted, as the music starts
it’s early May in the Rockies—the January of renewal
In a celebration of new life, flowers wrap the landscape like ribbon,
tying close the promises like good wishes on a Christmas morning
It’s springtime even on the highest peak, and old questions lost of
meaning now seem gone away...
Until reborn in the arrival of yet another desperate beginning,
—holding nothing back
We may come to one another with our own pine cones. You have four I have none for now. In time, I may have two from a long gone tree. The loves of our past were built from lust and sin. Sometimes we have to go through the dark before we reach the light. Yahweh understands, and this is why we are forgiven. The cross we know was for us. Yeshua died for us so that we did not suffer today. So why do we long suffer. Simply, because life is meant to find the need of the mind and heart. The loins confuse us and lead us to other paths. These paths make us strong and then help us find the true path.
White angel why do you cry? Do not stain thy eyes with clear tears. Those eyes are becoming red. Eyes of your beauty (internal/external) should not stain with tears of woe. Come to me in an embrace. Your eyes are a pool of beauty. As my lips touch the eyes, I feel soft skin, I taste the salt from your tears. Please do not cry my white angel. Dry thy eyes with my hair. Lay thy head on my shoulder.
White angel why do your lips quiver? Your lips quiver from my absence. Please do not cry my love. Come to me so that I am kiss thee. My lips and your lips calm each lips. Our friendship began out of the dust. So that in time the dust shall return joined together. Do not cry my yin. The yang is always with you. Hand in hand our fruit starts with this tree named of Aspen. It will end with a tree of Sequoia.
Winter Fantasy
I love to walk through twilight
In mountain hills
Breathlessly awaiting evening’s first
Flakes of snow in a winter carnival
That rowdy gathering clouds
Threatened to toss upon their upturned faces
And,
When at last, making merry, the storm releases
A snowy vision descending on a dreaming world
A lullaby of sweet calm
Transcends sleepless visions like twirling snowflakes
To fill nocturnal eyes
With visions of barren aspen arms
Embracing shivering jewels of glittering snow.
Between wind whipped flakes
I see
The warm and cozy lights of homes
Resting in the trees
To cast a revelry of amber shadows
On the pure whiteness
Of a crystalline blanket falling from the sky;
They hide their eyes
Among the spruce
As love
But
With inviting looks
Beckon me abide
As I pull my hands into warm sanctuary pockets
To walk upon the gala of snow serene.
In a carnival of swirling flakes of snow
My footsteps
Quickly
Lose their warmth –
Now
Hidden by
My brumaled friends
As the evening sky
Slowly turns
Her dark side inside out
From
Turquoise to blue
To white.
And when the storm finishes
Emptying
The clouds
As feather pillows opened wide
The moon slow pulls herself
Above these hills in festival
To ride a winter sky
Watching over the silver
Shimmering earth
Alive with twinkling moonbeam stars
On outstretched limbs
Of aspen trees –
They twinkle in a jubilee – bright reflections
Of a sister in the sky.
The air turns colder –
Cutting right to the very marrow core
With sharp and brittle winter bite
When the mountains
Glimmer cold as moonlight –
Blue as stars –
As
They stand above the valley
Wearing alpine ermine furs
Sentinels of the day
Now past –
Guardians of tomorrow
And
Though they change their winter masks
For summer’s green masquerade
Their faces never change –
I would know them always!
1-1-21
Contest: Winter
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Stone Spires
Stone cathedral spires rise
Sharply
From freely flowing waters
Birthing rebirth -
Lifting up unto the eternal
A psalm
A canticle
To celebrate the seasons;
Singing celebration in Heaven's waiting ears;
Reaching down to lift up
Majestic mountain praise
Through hallowed red rock halls
With lyrics of the hawk
And meadowlark -
Walls decorated by leafy banners in many hues
Of whispering
Aspen leaves
Fluttering in perpetual praise
Robed in crystal cleansing rains;
No prodigal peaks
Sneaking away
From the thanksgiving song
As rounded stepping-stones welcome enter
To capture adoration
With stars that glitter -
Celestial fugitives -
Chanting formed
By melody
Heard from lofts of crags
Exalting,
Highland descants
Following the harmonies
Of renewing waters
Sounding then resounding,
Call and respond,
Captured then released
Vibrating through the sanctuary stones;
Worship choruses,
Breathes with the breathless
Waiting
For a cradle song,
- Vitality renewing -
In newborn cathedral strains
Rising up
On wings
Of stirring sunlight
Matins
A cosmic shimmer
Awakening
An evensong
of waning light
Eternal beating
Rhyme
And
Rhythm
Stretching up
For majesty
Into a bottomless sky
Stanzas touching winter storms
Mantras tickling stars through moonlight
Pulsing through the flowing winds
And ever wending waters.
The lake was beautiful and calm as you see yourself in it.
The surroundings were made of tall autumn grass.
Leaf's are shedding off aspen trees with cattails near
the mouth of a lazy river.
The setting sun brought out the beauty of autumn's color.
Using my cheap fishing pole, I cast out my bait into the lake.
As I watched my line slowly drift to the pristine lake.
A sparrow then flew into my line and tangled itself in it.
Without hesitation, I reeled in my line with the sparrow on it.
Gently I held the bird in my hand and untangled it from my line.
Amazingly, the sparrow remained calm as I untangled it.
It sat in my hand for a moment, and I cast it into the air, and it took flight.
There have been many more rescues of birds in my care.
One was a blackbird that flew into our sunroom.
It was hot in there, and the bird was in distress.
Its mouth was open and breathing hard.
I lifted up my finger to it, and incredibly it jumped on it.
I whisked it outside, and it remained on my finger
until it closed its mouth and flew away.
Another rescue was with a green Hummingbird.
It flew into my screen door, and it was stuck.
Calmly, I slowly wrapped my hands around
it as not to hurt its wings.
It remained calm in my hands, and I tossed it into the air
and it flew away.
Life, given a chance to live, will flourish before your eyes.
Come with me to the Talking Tree
a place where spirit and nature can be.
Where science of the forest couples
with ancient traditions of the land.
Where indigenous people learn to live
with trees mindfully hand in hand.
Listen to branches rustling hymns
through silent sounds in their limbs.
Mighty Maples murmur in the breeze
sweet tales of syrup drawn to please.
Trees converse, they do care
sending forest messages everywhere.
Through the air and underground
signals pulse from floor to crown.
Quaking Aspen is known for being
the earth's most massive living thing
these trees united by one root system
the world's largest superorganism.
Trees often act for collective good
doing exactly what they should.
Sometimes they will reset their mast
until the attacking danger's passed.
Internal rhythms set their pace
slower than the human race.
Tree's daily burden that they bare
is they process the world's air.
Did trees learn survival plans proven
in the 360 million years pre-human?
What do 7 billion humans foresee
as the fate for earth's 3 trillion trees?
Fallen trees again live too
vessels that life flows through.
Their wood relives deeply in
buildings, books even violins.
So stand with me in equanimity
and listen for lyrics patiently.
Wait to hear beneath this tree
poised to the sound of "poetree".