Long Birch Poems
Long Birch Poems. Below are the most popular long Birch by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Birch poems by poem length and keyword.
A tissue like a white hibiscus like the one in the garden of Demetrios
It fell on my shoulder, as if from the scarlet mist of my unconscious
Emitting a maddeningly possessive aroma
Forced me to look at the spotted cheetah
Seated under a very old yellow forest birch in an appetite ageless
As I craned my neck a little up my eyes came across the pink furnace
His flowing hair resembled an amber cascade in a hill in Darjeeling
His face held the finely drawn painting of Michelangelo, revealing
Hypnotic heat of passion for my deep river
At the bend looked up the restless shiver
The crimson coloured crests rushing toward the inevitable healing
In reckless submission to the cuddling curving crashing and crushing
What happened then is not difficult for you to visualize dear readers
An elegant embroidery of diamond desire from the rainbow breakers
Looked down in delight the birds from the clouds
How in sweet heat dissolved the cultural shroud
In the fountain of eternal flesh and blood the lilacs of Atlantic laughter
Thousands of butterflies under sunlight set sail in flamboyant lustre
October 24, 2017
Her hands,
heavily wrinkled,
touch the thorns
on the rose.
The petals-
color of the pinprick
of the blood on her finger-
drop to the table's
cherry bark surface.
The petals are flour-soft-
her leathery grasp
feels like sandpaper.
She views the morning,
the pines and maples, and birch,
their branches cloaked
in their shiny garb.
The song sparrows congregate
as the yellow -daisy tints
of the sunrise
softly touch
the ruby-sienna bricks
of the tenement,
in which she quietly yearns-
like the hush..
of falling snow-
to bloom again..
in a Summer garden.
.
Crescent wisps on rolling stones
swivel bubbling ember to burn.
Sizzling jewels on moss thrones,
redwood embellishes withering fern.
Showers of September rinse
sunset in mellowed strides.
Lustrous pink rivulets wince
on shimmering green slides.
The lonely squirrel rolls in bed
to drench in soothing musk tide.
Cuddled mist drizzles the red
veil of fir seeds on the hillside.
Fiery twigs write velvet songs
on your pier of echoing lights.
My tender soul on bridge longs
to melt with iridescent nights.
Hush! Golden sequins bloom
in tunnels of moistened birch.
In Celeste's gorgeous room,
I witness our emotions perch.
Our crimson desires fuse
on dew-kissed bluebells.
September begins to cruise
on footprints of silver shells.
August 31, 2020
A Lipogram Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
A Lipogram without the letter 'A'
Reindeer racks, huffing and chuffing - smokestacks
longing, like huskies, to run with shining
red sleigh. Commercials over, indicates
to Nick, in his hip black and red plaid, matching
fur-rimmed hat, pom-pom and whiskers, “Let’s go!”
Colorado Reinbeer to the rescue. The swagger
and lift of spirited gifts to neighbors.
Santa moves with the covid times, to cheer
up the down in the mouth, even the kids
with suds of their own - root or birch beer floats.
Sleigh bells and holiday harnesses play
in the steep mountain snow with “Ho! ho! ho!”
11/28/2020
Loosely based on a segment I saw on the news.
Spring is sprung.
Clouds of maple.
Skies of pine.
Red in green.
Serviceberry understory.
Spring is sprung.
Skunk cabbage spathe.
Black birch sap.
Poplar flowers.
Opossum tires.
Spring is sprung.
Blackbird wing.
Wasps won’t sting.
My father died.
Town meeting Monday.
Spring is sprung.
Sing cuccu!
There’s no down side.
Infinite willow.
Leaning oak.
Spring is sprung.
Budding flame.
Budding thumb.
Cat claw.
Bird yolk.
Spring is sprung.
Dandelion
Shoots. Arrowhead
Roots. Waterproof
Boots. Old bed young.
Spring is sprung.
Ring and wrong.
Thank and thought.
Seed and sawn.
Wait and walk.
Spring is sprung.
*Inspired by a comment Marikate Kingston made on one of my poems.
Not for contest.
First I was small, shorter than flowers around me
The world was so vast, a kingdom to see
Then time flew fast and I felt stronger each season
Some things passed me quickly without any reason
Birds flew by, but others stopped to take a rest
I could feel them on my branches, some would make a nest
In years I felt change, with colors of my leaves, I stood tall
I let go through these times, as my acorns would fall
I saw people come along and sit beneath me in the shade
I watched love, heard their laughter, saw picnics made
One young girl decided she would make a swing
She had so much fun, in the breeze, she would sing
One time an owl startled me during the night
It seemed to find its respite, in the glow of moonlight
I had some long time friends around me, ash, birch and pine
The sun would reach each one of them as they would shine
The storms could be fierce, breaking branches here and there
We all had our stories that we would love to share
How our strength helped us survive, rooted in the ground
As everyone walked by, we stood speechless without a sound
*I could tell many stories, written in rings through the years
I will leave that up to my baby acorns and all their happy cheers
Heidi Sands
8/23/23
The forest wilderness calls when autumn arrives,
It is the call of the wild beckoning to me;
Of brilliant foliage across open swaying meadows,
Of the ducks seeking food in reflecting rippling water.
Their plumage magnificent in the sunshine,
I like to hike the forest trails where red maples blaze;
And birds perch on mossy river boulders,
Of a creek that twists and turns through the fall forest.
Nature's patterns repeat in endless variations of flowers,
In meadows, thickets and open areas;
A wind whips my long hair and a lone tree clings to a cliff,
And polished rocks line the banks of the creeping creek.
That twists and turns through the autumn forest,
Leaves decorate every turn with enchanting scenes;
Lichen covered tree trunks punctuate the fall foliage,
And ferns are withering and dying amongst the glory.
Water thunders over the polished rocks in the creek,
And fall finery clads the hillsides so beautifully;
With golden red of the maple tree, yellow aspen and birch,
And the stained glass leaves fall in quiet still places.
A worn picnic table covered with multi-hued tones,
And a weathered old oak witnesses the passage of time;
I explore the cliffs and meadows where marigolds bloom,
I am a hiker who relishes the sweeping views of the wild.
___________________________
October 20, 2015
Verse
Prompt - Call Of The Wild
For the contest, Triple Prompt - Hear The Calling
Sponsor, Casarah Nance
First Place
Hushed whispers at the cascading waterfall,
Voices of lost spirits recite poetry.
Pebbles in the stream sparkle in the sun.
Let there be rainbows in Spring.
Fish cruise the pools along babbling brooks
White birch bark floats by dodging rocks
An otter plays in the swift rapids.
Let there be rainbows in Spring.
Storm clouds gather as lightning flashes.
Thunder rumbles o’er the mountains.
Geese land in wind and waves at the bay.
We wait for rainbows after the storm.
The dark clouds give way to the sun.
Raucous winds slow to a mellow breeze.
I look towards the sky over the bay.
A bright rainbow shines making my day!
Spring Showers or Spring Flowers Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
3/7/2022
Caressing the mind
And kissing
Glossy, smooth stones
Liquid rippling
Flowing over the bed
Hues of taupe
Sand and charcoal
With hints of lavender
Coloring the emotions
Wistful, willful, warm
Like the flavor
Of a rising storm
Resting on the sand
Brilliant like the sunshine
Glowing in moonlight
Smooth stones
Risking their stability
In the currents
Gracefully pouring
Along the edge
Of an emerald forest
Pines, oaks and birch
A leaf dancing
In the starry flames
Night’s radiance
Whispering to souls
In prayers of faith
Discovered on
The winds of a day
Bought by the songs
Of wren and robin
Frogs on mossy stones
Beckoning to the
Promise of rainfall
Smooth, lasting stones
Layered on shores
Of rivers and creeks
Awakening the bare feet
To memories
Of childhood days
Spent wading, playing
In the clear, cool waters
Alive with sinuous fluid
Waters surging, rolling
Across the mind
Who delights in praising
The Creator who
Rests these stones
Upon the shores
Of hope and faith
Love which praises
As it slides
Across the surface
Of these fluent waves
Both agile and gracious
Molding the stones
In their favor
L Contest
Having not done the things I wanted to do
and the things I've done not being what I wanted to do
I sit here looking at lichen on the north side of trees.
Black-capped chickadees
cheerful and truthful expression
grouped in platoons, sharing the point.
The tribes travel together
first finches, then chickadees
following the squirrels every morning.
What luxury, abundance! Handful after handful
of grass seed thrown, into wind.
The corn ripe and the rye with it.
The other main families: pines, roses, peas,
lilies, daisies, heath, birch and oak.
Maple, honeysuckle, pink, mustard, cypress, mint, olive, buckwheat,
primrose, willow, buttercup, saxifrage, snapdragon, cactus.
Truth may be ascertained by considering
the truth we feel, the truth we're told,
the truth we reason, and the truth we've seen.
It is so good to be a chickadee.
To tell the truth cheerfully and joyfully
in a way that makes others want to live.