Long Blackthorn Poems
Long Blackthorn Poems. Below are the most popular long Blackthorn by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Blackthorn poems by poem length and keyword.
South of Sahara the winter arrives
Bouquet of warblers has already left
Flying to warmer climes where they will thrive
Focused on summer winter not bereft.
Small Willow Warblers sing delightful song
They make our summer completely complete
Early one morning after journey long
There's a song in the Blackthorn Oh! so sweet.
Our summer seems long but it has to end
Our warbler friends gather to make long flight
Sahara is calling they have to wend
Away from winter, they fly day and night.
In winter repose silent Blackthorn tree
Summer will return its nature's decree.
I chance upon her
in the far reaches of the backyard,
a place I never go. There she trembles.
A tiny tiger, whose newborn eyes blur the world,
secreted in mother-scented-shadows
below blackthorn shrubs.
Faint mews draw me closer.
The power of her vulnerability
fills my veins with a ripple rising,
brimming me with a nectar needed,
like a dry stream bed restored by remedy rains.
How helpless she is with new eyes open.
Her eyes like skylights — clear
and filled with new-wild-blue innocence.
Neglected yet beautiful, I sense in her
the familiar phenomenon of the impulse to pulse.
Her outsized feistiness belying
such a petite package of plea and need
with teeny needle claws and barely a wisp of a hiss
...and I recall when I felt the fear
of being small and voiceless in a choiceless world.
Born a feral kitten, her mother likely lost
to speed-wheels of a car or snap-jaws of coyotes,
whose throats float steaming howls above black
saw-toothed pines to haunt the long night moon
...and I wonder, if she wonders,
if the sweet-milk-purrs with soft belly fur
will ever return to snuggle her.
She’s been cold and alone for far too long.
So I gather her in the hug of my hands
warming her as I draw her in and curl
my chest around her littleness.
A shield formed against her lone-ness.
...and I, a long-ago-child abandoned,
a child whose silent cries heard only by stoic walls,
reclaims a voice that helps me make a choice
not to let Nature decide how birth and fate collide.
So I sit with her, swaddle her, love her.
Nourish her with eye-dropper milk where
hearth embers still glow after the fire,
to heal the orphan and raise the phoenix within.
The stars, they were shinin' when Harry came home;
And the moon, it was big and bright.
He quietly promised no more to roam,
So, we danced in the firelight!
When Harry came home, the people were singin'
As he playfully tousled my hair.
When Harry came, the bells were ringin'
And bluebirds in the air!
When Harry came, sweet scents of summer
Lingered all around us.
When Harry came home, the banjo strummer,
Like the night, so melodious!
When Harry came home, he kissed my lips,
As the brook moved through the trees;
And stood there, hands on hips,
With eyes that seemed to tease.
When Harry came, my heart beat faster,
And gave a sudden thrill!
When Harry came home, moon of alabaster,
And faint laughter from Blackthorn Hill.
seed time and blackthorn hedges dusted off winter
hibernation lost its sleepy crown and laid to rest
inward turn of events that simmered in the cold
as daffodils shed their woolen hats and mittens
opened their crowns to bluebell’s wedding vows
a violet haze rose from the mist in lavender bloom
witness to the union of undying warmth made in heaven
crocus offered saffron and danced to poppy’s delight
stinging nettle though uninvited lured butterflies
blue skies applauded
not a single cloud in sight -
loved tender kiss
I take you my sacred partner for better or worse
poorer and richer impermanent and until the end
for when we are dead we still had springs in our step
holy word showers
love pure kindness compassion -
a canvas of bliss
11th March 2021