Long Cherry tree Poems
Long Cherry tree Poems. Below are the most popular long Cherry tree by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cherry tree poems by poem length and keyword.
I was a seed in soil
snugged in the womb of my Mother Nature
ready to shine under rays and rain
to sprout my fruit and shake my leaves
to grow a thick spine and wrinkle under heat
to greet the wind under waltz and words
until the breeze whispers me to sleep.
Let me be nurtured by the elements
in chaotic destruction
in scenic growth
for my earrings to hang low
on the branches of my cherry tree.
Low, so animals may eat
Low, so they may pick
choosing the ones they desire most.
I was a pearl in their world of oysters
tucked in a bed of pleasures
rested in an ocean of treasures,
crafted
to be selected
for the beauty of riches
strung from lace
on the napes display
attracting the eyes of suitors and the envy gaze.
I was a root
ripped from my youth
and all my innocent fruits
fell from heights of doubt
and begat the chance to sprout
again and again had I prayed
for a dove or another love to come my way
in a dream or from above
i’ll sit in your garden of bluff
i promise to not move a single grove
just tell me i’m beautiful once more
just before i have no choice but to rot.
My colors shift with every hour of the day—
most often brown, sometimes blue.
When fatigue sets in, I may turn yellow;
in moments of joy, I blush in shades of red.
I believed autumn had come when the cherry tree shed its leaves
and the flowers faded, even the hardy petunias nearing their end.
but a little water and fertilizer brought forth new colors:
white, red, pink, blue—each bloom reflecting my colors of the day.
Colors are reflection of my mood,
In the starry nights with black moon showing some life,
The silvery rays, shining stars, and stardust glow,
Makes my mind dazzle in the silvery glow.
In the winter snowy season,
Overwhelmed by snow and icicles around,
Although white prevails everywhere, joy and fun for many of us,
I would like to feel like a snowman, enjoying evergreen ferns, and a red carrot nose.
Big ripe Mcintosh apples found lying on the ground
Release sweet juiciness when their finders take a bite.
Ibises of scarlet stand elsewhere in the world without a sound
Gathered underneath a crimson sky awaiting night.
Hovering near bushes bursting ever rosily
Twin monarchs flutter; cardinals sit on a red-flamed tree.
Barns decorate the countryside always painted so
Easily to view in their typical bright red hue.
A patch of strawberries grows in summer row by row by row.
Utter deliciousness resides in raspberries grown there too.
Tempting are the garden's tomatoes, more treats colored red!
Inside an orchard, carrying a pail which holds small fruit
From a cherry tree, treads a freckled lad, hair like fire on his head.
Underneath a canopy of leaves, robin redbreast sings a tribute,
Lifting notes mellifluously in praise of nature’s grace.
Robust as chili peppers' flavor; radiant as a ruby gem,
Everywhere we see the passion in this color we embrace.
Delightful and dynamic too is this color most worthy of a poem!
For James Edward Lee Sr.
Acrostically I Stand Tall Poetry Contest
The white cherry blossoms,
Showed up in early spring,
While daffodils were dancing in the wind,
The blossoms whistled and were getting kissed by hummingbirds and bees.
In the race to who will taste the sweet tart cherries first,
Swallows, blue birds or me,
I was defending my territory with the thud of a baseball bat.
Sometimes I jumped up from the bed,
Drove away blackbirds in early morning raid,
The fruit buds finally matured,
Now I have a tree full of cherries and no one to eat.
In our mild windy summer afternoon,
The tree is covered in leaves of verdant green,
Bunches of red cherries have grown all over the trees,
They are sweet, inviting and hard to resist.
I sit beside my cherry tree,
Watch the drifting clouds look at my tree,
Mild sun makes the tree look adorable,
Jeweled with red pearl like cherries.
Since I won the race, I have all my cherries,
I eat a handful now and then, all day,
Till my stomach gets bloated,
I hope friends, family and birds will come and share some.
I would love to see the thrill of cherry pickers,
Grandson and daughters all over the trees,
Parents and friends, washing and eating off the tree,
Pretty soon, they cannot reach the top and go home with their pick.
Soon the cherries will ripen,
If not picked, they will drop and make the tree base red,
Some will be half eaten by birds and critters,
But mostly will rot and get ignored and discarded.,
Here are two versions of this poem. One I wrote today, other one I found later. I am writing poems after almost 10 years. I still don't have the muse as evidenced by the following poems. Eventually I will catch up. I need your encouragement. Thank you.
New Version(2023)
On a sunny day, a stunning flower,
Birds of paradise, face the sun forever,
With the lesson of dedication they bestow to sun,
One could have found Nirvana with ease and fun.
With the beak crowned with yellow feathers,
Over the green beak and blue crown on top,
The little birds sits on the top with amazement,
Gets the peace and quiet on the divine mountain.
The flowers live in earthly paradise,
They don’t offer nectar to wandering hummingbird,
But their beauty is so enchanting,
The birds and bees hover around to see such a divine beauty.
I watch the flower sitting under my urban cherry tree,
Complaining every year that other birds loot all my cherries,
I am content with a few cherries I get,
The birds of paradise teaches me to be content in life with whatever you have.
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Older version (over 10 years old)
The lust for divine love in paradise,
Could not bring from heavens to the earth,
the birds of paradise sing the divine love song,
but they tend to soar away in deep blue skies.
With the heart aching for the melancholy love,
I planted my bird of paradise plant in my back yard,
The little plant had only one blossomed flower,
Missed the flock which it usually domiciles in.
Every morning, I open my window to the back yard,
The bird of paradise stands in the middle of other flowers,
the roses, petunias glow in sun, the beak of the bird of paradise just follows the sun,
It follows sun from dusk to dawn, I adore this divine love act from bottom of my heart.
With its beak pointing towards sun, head crowned with beautiful yellow and
purple leaves,
Thinking it may be crane, the hummingbird flies around, sits on its beak, feels its love,
the beauty is overwhelming, the aura is divine,
If the birds of paradise see its flowery match, they may change their mind
And stay with us on earth.
SPIN MASTERS SPINNING AWAY THE DAY
Every moment
I turn on the TV
What do I see
Nothing but liars laying down lies
Spin Masters spinning spam of deceit
Chanting
The truth will set you free
White is black
Black is white
Lies are true
Truth is a lie
Lies will set you free
I see nothing
But politicos
Dropping down lies
UN truths masquerading as the truth
Oh so sincerely
The lies spew forth so sweetly
From their corrupted lips
The toxic wastes
Spree out of my TV set
Infecting my soul
With paranoid distrust
And I vainly try
I do try
God do I try
To the find
The nugget of truth
Buried deep in the dark, dank, dangerous
Black, evil miasmic mists
Given off
By the talking heads on TV
So I leave my house
So full of doubt
And wander about
Looking for the truth
Some semblance of hope
And I look up
And see a solitary cherry tree
High up on a hill top street
Infusing the air
With its sweat ambrosia
And I smile
Knowing
Someday soon
The national nightmare
Will be pierced by the light
Of clarity and truth
And the evil ones
The body snatched aliens
Inhabiting our leaders
Will be banished
There's no other phrase that will get a lad's total attention,
And fill a young feller's soul with dread apprehension,
Than to hear the phrase Moms have used since time began,
"Just wait 'til your Pa gets home, young man!"
Cain became envious of his brother Abel and did him in.
This cowardly deed was done much to his Ma's chagrin!
"How dare thee slay thy brother, bringing disgrace to thy clan?"
"Just wait 'til thy Pa gets home, young man!"
As a lad even Jesus was not immune from this threat.
On one occasion He had His Ma in a most terrible fret,
When he dawdled at the temple expounding on God's plan!
"Just wait 'til thy Pa gets home, young man!"
Young Washington, it is alleged, went on a hacking spree,
Chopping down his Pa's favorite cherry tree.
Ma attempted to box his ears, but her he outran.
"Just wait 'til your Pa gets home, young man!"
Feckless youths from their Ma's have heard that dire phrase.
Any denial of their transgressions, 'tis useless to raise.
They'd prefer to hear their Ma utter any other expression than,
"Just wait 'til your Pa gets home, young man!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
There's the Groundhog
sluggishly slinking up the cherry tree
checking out to see
if there are seeds in the feeder.
Just refilled he sees
then inches up cautious and higher
until he is level with the dish
sliding in position to snack.
Thought he was gone
since all my vegetation
had succumbed to his hunger
but he has returned.
Perhaps because
the hot dry summer
burned what little remained
and his hunger drew him here.
Little chubette he perches
securing his view
and satisfying his needs.
No point in chasing him now
though my pup
would enjoy the chase.
Let him be.
Loneliness no one wants to know,
In its deepest shades of blue;
But for dear ones once loved so,
All roads lead back to you.
When roses don't smile, sad days, sad days,
As when comes summer clouds so mild,
But cheers, not all will be bad days;
For nothing can destroy the love of parent and child.
When hopes are scattered as apple blossoms,
A return is something like salvation!
Sort of like when sunrise comes;
Something like a sanctification!
Nothing can be sadder than estranged love-
The anger, the hating, the cruel words;
And what else are heartaches made of?
Wander nectar seeking hummingbirds!
The heart receives its summons,
And the road turns back ever after.
Millions of cherry tree blossoms make its sweet companions;
For at last is the sun, and laughter...laughter...laughter.
A song we both liked once grinds-on,
a needle on a disc etching deep grooves
into mutual experiences.
The cat we once shared, died.
Our dog chased the cat in its leg-twitching dreams
until its old heart gave out.
The garden cherry tree toppled in a late storm;
when we cut its broken limbs down
blossoms fell like coral rain.
The garden we both tended to was never the same.
The song we loved is hardly ever sung nowadays
its tune un-played, Insensitive modulations
have twisted it into a jingle only heard in elevators.
I have kept the scratchy vinyl recording,
its lyrics now seem trite and inauthentic,
and we no longer believe
in timeless melodies.