Long Boughs Poems
Long Boughs Poems. Below are the most popular long Boughs by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Boughs poems by poem length and keyword.
I’m so nervous, it’s that time again
Gotta get ready, go out there and shine, shine, shine!
And I don’t have much say over WHAT I’ll look like,
The most I can do is drop a bead here or there
Speaking of beads, here they come, boxes full of them
You just know, they’ll over do again this year!
It’s ok for me; I’m an old fashioned tree
But some of the balls and ornaments are heavy!
OUCH, watch those hooks, please!
I really shouldn’t complain, all I really must do is stand still
But then, there are the lights!
And as much as I like getting LIT at holiday time,
I pay for it, believe me, droopy boughs, dropped needles,
Especially if I don’t drink enough water!
But, not to get too sappy, it’s all worth it in the end
All the apprehension melts away when I see their faces
So on we go, let’s do it, let’s make new memories,
I am ready for my star!
Let’s give‘em a Christmas, they’ll never forget
Captivating color-change radiance
Showcases Autumn’s wondrous performance
Exposing great nature’s awesome brilliance
Designed by God’s sovereign elegance
Fall’s beauty shines in every hue’s detail
as glowing leaves of magenta prevail
while boughs of crimson and scarlet scale
yield toward pale russet or auburn’s hail.
Witnessing foliage so magnificent
midst phenomenon that’s iridescent
My soul does bask in restive Autumn scent
Gracious season* packed with precious present.
Ecclesiastes 3:1 To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.
September 13, 2020
1st place, "COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE(12) any theme any form" Poetry Contest; Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 9/19/2020.
I squeeze in on the horse’s side,
spurring the mustang to a trot,
he makes his way on this trail ride,
up a hill to a sunny spot.
Three others are along with me,
two strangers and guide, the owner,
there blows a subtle, cooling breeze,
the guide cracks a joke, a groaner.
We reach a fine, sweeping view-point,
the Catskills roll out to the south,
my horse is acting out-of-joint,
grasps some undergrowth in his mouth.
Lift his head so he gets no more,
shouldn’t be eating with his bit,
then shift my weight, my legs are sore,
tomorrow I will pay for this.
But right now I don’t really care,
in fact I’d rather like to stay,
back of a horse, good for the soul,
to use a Churchill paraphrase.
We ride down, the rhythmic motion
always puts me into a trance,
come to a flat, wish I could run,
but I don’t think I’ll get the chance.
The strangers are new to riding,
they’re awkward just sitting up straight,
if the horses went a-flying
they’d be tossed clear off from the gait.
Work our way through a big spruce wave,
birds flitter about in the boughs,
enter a field with fresh-cut hay,
scattered in bales across the ground.
Leisurely through a high ravine,
where shadows fall upon our face,
looks kind of like a spooky dream,
a dark, moss-bound, and haunted place.
A deer looks up from where he feeds,
cocks his head, looking all confused,
the smell of human, he should flee!
But then they smell like horses too?
Pass him by, then ride ‘round a curve,
I can see a familiar barn,
guide says,”Now, it’s back to the world,”
as I look to my beat-up car.
I frown at the sight of hard steel,
these rides never seem all that long,
sorely tempted to kick my heels,
take the horse, keep ambling on…
The leaves fall, as did I,
To lay naked and broken with the others,
Looking up at our more blessed brothers.
Silently wondering at their tenacity,
Their brilliant audacity
To remain attached to their source.
Though winds blow and snows
Come certainly as time flows,
They do not fail their destined course.
What magic do they channel
To remain fixed in the brittle strife
That life defines as reality?
What powers do they employ
To persevere through the sheer
And terrible terror of mortality?
For even as I disappear,
Crushed and decomposed,
They remain secure.
Rude and ravaged boughs are not undone;
They cling content for sure renewal
From a faint and fickle sun.
Ode to Spring
Lovely lady kisses winter good-bye
Then writes her name upon receding snows
Her signature flames in rose twilight skies
Lingering, she begs daylight not to go
Dropping ice bound shrouds of hibernation
From her footsteps shakes off the frozen mists
Lady, full of grace, soars on swallow’s wings
Her monogram stitched into creation,
Floral garlands of aromatic twists
Autograph this her lyrical dayspring.
To blessed spring let us sing out an ave,
Rejoicing in rejuvenation sweet
With choruses of warmth inspired ballet
As beneath sky’s blue metaphor we meet,
Herald her return with trumpet flowers
And like spring’s troubadours with accolades
To chant incensed chimes, floral symphonies,
Enter her realm – rest in her sweet bower
Lacy shadows recite in light’s parade
When snow recedes in robin rhapsodies
Capricious imp, coy mischief in your smile,
You flirt with summer’s serendipity
Teach us to sing the song of spring erstwhile,
You enchant us with new epiphany,
Endless lady lives through time’s dimensions
Bouquets of praise come from our budding boughs,
Reflecting Heaven’s sweet spring eternal
You charm the spirit with love’s retention
Then open wide your full womb to endow
Barrenness with victory hibernal.
5-4-22
Contest: Ode
Sponsor: Constance La France
Topic: Nature
Syllables checked with howmanysyllables
Rhymes check with rhymezone
Elegy – 7-17-24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Elegy for Old Growth
Through measures of metered melancholy
The tattered winds sing a rent elegy,
A pensive wail for pristine old growth,
A drifting chant in pure pitch of final farewell –
The mute tongue howls in eulogy
For virgins of a thousand turns around the sun
For helpless giants surrendered in atonal sacrifice.
Gentle titans with feathery boughs lifted their faces
To embrace misted melodies of summer and winter snows
Forest zephyrs sang lullabies for sparrows
Nesting in their rustling wombs
Then shared the secret lyrics of their song
With robins sheltered in their lofty grace of red bark
In evensongs, matins and spring symphonies.
The myrrh of burial mixes with their lingering fragrance
In desolation and in their exposed flesh,
Nude hillsides of purple rage
Scream in final dirges of farewell
Modulated into anthems sung to saplings in circles of renewal
Little ones, like half steps, change elegies to odes
The threadbare zephyr now chants paeans to remember.
A Kiss That Has Never Been Broken
As my tendrils stretch and reach around your essence
I hide my face in the warmth of your embrace
As green leaves vines of ivy caress and fill my soul
Embracing love captured in the core of every fiber
Kisses echoes of our love is told in the rings and bends of our boughs
Seasons come and go with shadows of never ending days
Green grass and clover cover our roots with loosen crackling leaves
Among a little flower grows, with golden heart
Reaching upwards towards the sun
Every spring a thirst of clear spring water runs as time pass
As our kiss never broken
Woven on a web of everlasting dreams
1/4/2016
(for C.)
I know your frustration –
I can see it in your eyes
The daytime teased you with idle thoughts
And the nighttime wore a disguise
They never give us any disclaimer
An apologia at the start
The only way to plunge into this race
Is with an undivided heart
We stammer and we choke
Over words of love and pain
Wearing that invisible yoke
Like the blind man in the rain
Like the blind man in the rain
The suffering endures
The seasons bear the years
The roots that entangle, the boughs that
Suffocate us in shadows and fears
My son, look out your window
There’s light behind that tree
Let it lift your undivided heart
To perfect totality
For we stammer and we choke
Over words of love and pain
Wearing that invisible yoke
Like the blind man in the rain
Like a blind man in the rain
And if you should trip and fall
And there’s no one for your moans
I’m deep in that alley with you
My boy, you’ll not be alone
Tho we stammer and we choke
Over words of love and pain
Wearing that invisible yoke
Like a blind man in the rain
Just like the blind man in the rain
Life seeks stillness at the root,
craving unfolds lattice of creeping flare.
Two figures lean on the glimmer,
her eyes transfixed in chasm, his petrified,
their silence, a still violin chord
held between creation and end.
The tree is the bridge for them,
an aureate whisper in emptiness,
ensnaring their world in a dream.
The void gleams with potential,
where love gilded by eternity
waits to become a memory.
In the maze captured on canvas
life is spun from bronze boughs
where past and future entangle
within a frail frame of mistake,
but spring air drips love on leaves,
in the tree of life flowers bloom again.
(Inspired by The Tree Of Life by Gustav Klimt)
Christmas Tree
Little bits of silver tinsel,
Velvet ribbons and shiny globes,
Strings of stars borrowed from the heavens
Next to angels with golden hair;
Flying sleighs and drummer boys,
Sweet candy canes and satin bows
Hang from boughs of fir or pine
Where elfin dolls and teddy bears
Survey surroundings from their boughs
With quaint chalets and paper stars
Made with glitter by tiny hands
With a loving touch to weave love's spell
Into hearts of all who see
These fragile gifts
That so carefully hang
By China bells and Christmas geese,
Stern toy soldiers and horns of brass,
Skating bears and soaring doves,
A reindeer with his red nose
Blinking -
Glittering tree of holiday wonder
Brought from the forest
Of evergreen
Decked with ornaments,
Made from memories,
Now a Christmas vision
In the hearts
Of children ever young.