Long Elms Poems
Long Elms Poems. Below are the most popular long Elms by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Elms poems by poem length and keyword.
In hues of love, like a silence
Flowing through rich, vibrant hearts
Appearing to smile, like secrets
Erasing every darkness with faith
Enduring even the heartless, with hope
Who knows the spirit of love, the
Soul who is light, reflecting in the air
Grace who believes – His way
Is the way toward our greatest peace
His way – is the way
Faith and sweetest intimacy
With the Creator, the Maker
Who brought tenderness, gentling
The darkness with starlight shimmering
Through the oaks and elms,
Spoiling shadows with laughter,
Serenity that abides in dreams,
Coloring the quiet, tones of truth,
Arising from the fires, burning
Away temptation and stirring the promises
Edged with salvation’s assurance
The wisdom that comes from knowing
His way – is the way to glory, to gaining
The hope that comes from believing
In a God who is alive and revealing
Love that never ends, love that always
Fulfills each need with compassion
In dusty, faded caresses
Affection grows, giving the thoughts
Promises to kiss away doubt,
Free the broken and heal every fear
Wiping away every…
Silent pain, screaming…,
With assurance that this love
…. This love is so very real!
Pick-A-Title, Vol 33 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Title Chosen: 3.) Silent Pain, Screaming
November 13, 2022
I step outside to gaze up at the sky
Day by day different clouds float by
Some puffy, some wispy, others gray or white
Some set with the sun at dusk
Others stay out the whole summer night
On my block, a remarkable variety of trees
Maples, oaks, elms, evergreens my eye sees
Some older, some younger, others sturdy or frail
Each one with a story, with his very own tale.
Beneath me are grasses, herbs, weeds, vegetation
Creepy crawly bugs and insects, marvels of creation
Indoors may well be a kingly palace of comfort and ease
My home is outdoors, midst fresh air's gentle breeze
The blue haired witch came into the valley with a blue moon.
The wind changed directions when it sensed her arrival.
Shadows grew bashful as her natural beauty materialized.
Reverent wonder followed her footsteps into the forest.
She is magnificent, the owls hooted to each other.
It was no accident that she materialized in October.
She exuded mystery in a frighteningly unfamiliar way.
What will she do to us? The oaks and elms whispered.
Their leaves twinkled into the wind, wondering also.
The blue haired witch held up a finger. A good night to arrive.
Bats flung themselves into a crevice of the old volcano.
She is here, they tweeted to each other – our new mistress.
There is paint on every one of my fingers, on every pinkie, maybe even a bit on my toes.
Neon paint, the hardest to get off, I’ve scrubbed myself twice, thrice, four times, maybe.
A child asks me, “What is on your arm?” around noon. It’s been there all day, paint that glows.
I had no idea I had put my elbow in the paint bucket also, until 2 when someone points that out.
When I am up painting at three in the morning, I am not careful, I look down at a dollop of red on my toes.
I’ve been known to whip off my shirt next to the art studio windows, when I realize what I’m wearing.
A good way to meet the neighbors you say? They might as well know who I am, and what’s up with my clothes.
The only way they can see me is through forty-two oaks, a couple of elms, and a cottonwood tree.
I took their deer stand down ten years ago, when I realized it was on my property, by a foot and a nose.
This painting gig is perfect for me, it helps me get out all of my mad and sad, feelings I get a lot anymore.
Gardening helps me too, I call this dirt therapy, and it’s the best outlet, I love watching things grow.
Ah! To be a child again and from worry to be free,
To mimic Mister Squirrel and scamper up a tree!
God made trees for climbing by little girls and boys,
And to build a treehouse in, is one of childhood's joys!
Mighty oaks and elms provide other things as well.
They offer welcoming arms in which little songbirds dwell.
With their colorful robes, trees mark the seasons of the year,
And scratch the hides of antelope, buffalo and deer!
In summer time with their decorous leaves of jade,
Sycamore and ash offer a very welcoming shade.
Maple, beech and linden beautify countryside and towns.
Lofty pines provide a resting place for eagles on their crowns!
We share with God's many creatures His bountiful largesse,
The fruit of the apple, orange, and pear trees, and yes,
Peaches, nuts and apricots, such a myriad of trees,
Soothing us with sighing soughs at every gentle breeze!
The aspen upon a mountain steep is a beauty to behold,
'Specially in the autumn when it dons its gown of gold.
God charges us to be good stewards of His sacred lands.
May we ever respect the trees and treat them as old friends!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Placed No. 1 in Kim Morrison's "Nature The Popular Theme" Contest - May 2013
Wisdom tree understands the nuances of the forest
She has lost her leaves; her bark is petrified but she is sane
Insanity parades around her, in the form of distorted elms and oaks
Those who meditate are drawn to her, without understanding why
It is an absolute knowing, without knowing how they know,
Wisdom tree is understood by empaths, psychics, and the fey
Dwarfs, brownies, and faeries, gather around to glean her sage advice
She utilizes telepathy to give them what they need; a faerie godmother
Children stand in awe, understanding her in a spiritual way.
Their parents often try to rush them, but they are reluctant to go.
Recognizing wisdom tree from their heavenly playground, prebirth.
You'll find a piece in the puzzle, that is part of the past
under billowy white clouds, and the sizzling sun
in a wood sided home. where the trees are in bloom
where there's room for a childhood, that has only begun
There is a piece of the puzzle, outside in the yard
while wheels of a tractor come alive in the fields
There's a five year old girl skating sidewalks, with cracks
rollers, beneath her, singing "clickity clack"
while a rustle of whirlwinds is fast on her heels
to rife with the ruffles she wears on her back
Faces she knows will be leaning on fences
Lifting up smiles, and knowing her name
Where the same furrowed brows, and most without shame
work for the gain, of a few measly dollars
And mothers will holler..."Come home! Time for supper!"
As the sky has turned copper, at the end of the day
There is a piece of her, dreaming out under the elms,
where a heart might be broken, and the stars cast a spell
What is home harbors there, where her heart wants to dwell
In a room with a puzzle, spread out for her eyes
To sort out, and covet, and search for the sky
Where there's room for a childhood that has only begun
And a piece in the puzzle the color of sun
Persuading October from her quiet lair
Shedding the pleasures of life’s fictional realms
Mouthwatering plunder, gathering to share
Swirling through the silence, round oaks, pines and elms
Secrets and shadows reflecting nature’s rush
Flames of ginger, shushing dark who overwhelms
Sweet dreams are splattered with hope by God’s paintbrush
Storm wrecking peace calms souls who reflect this time
Much like a coryphée, plied by a wood thrush
Closing those moments by the sea, maritime
Breathing in crisp air, whispering a prayer
Carrot colored leaves twirl in a soothing rhyme
Reflections so daring arrive on sun’s glare
Lifting the past’s tears with grace beyond compare
Transparent raindrops fall on thirsty roses' buds,
sunbeams filtering through clouds make them gleam,
yellow-breasted robins, pelted on elms, still dream;
the scruffy indigent with raggy clothes ends his sobs
by greeting the aromatic spring with a gleeful scream
and moved by commotion, I shake his hand that throbs!
Somehow his misery will end, but the long and harsh winter
he will not remember to awaken his urge of needed things;
today, it's the celebration of a spirit once torn by anger,
but spring will still his troubled mind by giving him wings!
I stand there watching his face being transformed by joy
he runs towards me and shouts, " This caged bird is free! "
I follow his trail, and find him under branches fluttering;
his home is a cardboard box, he'll sleep well this evening!
On a sunny day, I was walking along the ivy-covered church fence. At the gates a beggar addressed me, politely asking for alms. Got no money, I replied. “Then take some of mine”, said the beggar – “a man cannot be completely without money”. I quickened my pace and entered the church hall. After the blinding daylight, it was dim and gloomy. The priest in his long robe stood with his back to me at the altar, lighting candles. Should I address him, I wondered, and while I was undecided, the priest suddenly said, without looking at me, "do you have a question for me, my son?" “I had, but not anymore”, I answered honestly. “I forgot my question while I was wondering if I should bother you”. The priest turned to me, his face was in tears, but he was smiling. “Perhaps you intended to light a candle, my son?” - he asked. “Yes”, I lied. “Yes, I would light a candle”. “Please do, my son”, - stepping aside, the priest moved deeper into the hall. I took one of the candles, lit it, and stuck it into the free hole of the sanctuary lamp, remembering my father's face. Then I left the church. The beggar had disappeared, there was no one at the door. The weather was changing rapidly – the wind blew, and the dark clouds in the sky were getting broader. I headed towards the farmers market. The rain caught me in the middle of the road. I turned into an alley of elms and lindens, and sat down on a bench, covered under the branches. The rain didn't bother me much, but I didn't want to get soaking wet. The passers-by didn’t turn to look at me, and I, in turn, didn’t look at them. The world lived its usual day, the smells of leaves and grass were sharply perceptible, and no one around had to prove their rightness. I bought everything that was planned – a box of daises, tomatoes and cucumbers. I set up a mini garden on my balcony, and in sunny weather it was full of buzz, bumblebees and butterflies circled over petunias and daisies. I often remembered this naive picture of summer later, in the cold days of winter.