Long Fir tree Poems
Long Fir tree Poems. Below are the most popular long Fir tree by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fir tree poems by poem length and keyword.
"Kris Kringle Kisses Kalliope"
A Dream: the 4th Christmas.
deck the halls
with memories
poets whisper pasts
that are ne’er forgotten
where presents
a life
that’s neatly wrapped
and attempts at
frostily forgotten
tucked under
that big
beautiful
green fir tree
where all the dreams
of poets go
gold starred, tinselled
and angel mounted
ripe cherries
kissed
crassly
under mistletoe
Ah Christmas
capture me up
in your safe
magic arms
let me sip
the nectar from
your sweet eggnog cups
like Puck’s flower flows
on sultry lips
and eyelids
“love-in-idleness”
"The juice of it
on sleeping eyelids laid
will make man
or woman
madly dote
upon the next
live creature
that it sees”
poet or pup
crimson berries crushed
against a velvet tongue
bedazzled and
bewitched
fires crackling
logs like legs
drop and wrap around
the flames
while in my dreams
I await beneath
the sugar coated
blankets of a bed
charmed by snowflakes
dusting houses in a row
through misted windows
where “paper people....
dream
their cardboard dreams”
“how unreal
the whole thing seems
can we be living in a world
that is made of paper mache?
Everything is clean
and so neat
anything that is wrong
can be just swept away”
inside is very still...
not shaken
like a snowglobe -
surreal
damned be
the dams of
Love-in-Idleness
where eyes reflect
your shadow
in my dream
like opium smoke
across cracked glass
remember how we
all once were
some beautiful happy
if we could just pull the chord
so fresh out of ...
class
rewind our time
rewind it
to yesterday
like a toy
across the
ocean bobbing
like a buoy
an Iceberg keens and cries
Nutcracker twirls
Sugarplum
Kris Kringle Kisses
Kalliope
Oberon...
reals
Titania in
Slo mo’
Magic
mmm
Romance
lacy
frosty
melting
snow.
An iceberg cries
in time with
Christmas eyes
(LadyLabyrinth/ 2020)
“Paper Mache” / Dionne Warwick
https://youtu.be/85TK2Bia6w8
"There must have been some magic in
That old top hat they found
For when they placed it on his head
He began to dance around"
ON DAY 1 of Noel my sweetie gave to me a Bluejay in a Fir Tree!
ON DAY 2 of Noel my sweetie gave to me 2 Mourning Doves
And a Bluejay in a Fir Tree
ON DAY 3 of Noel my sweetie gave to me 3 Prairie Hens
2 Mourning Doves And a Bluejay in a Fir Tree
ON DAY 4 of Noel my sweetie gave to me 4 Red Rock Crabs
3 Prairie Hens 2 Mourning Doves And a Bluejay in a Fir Tree
ON DAY 5 of Noel my sweetie gave to me 5 NEW CRAB RINGS! 4 Red
Rock Crabs 3 Prairie Hens 2 Mourning Doves And a Bluejay in a Fir Tree
ON DAY 6 of Noel my sweetie gave to me 6 Brent Geese
5 NEW CRAB RINGS! 4 Red Rock Crabs 3 Prairie Hens 2 Mourning Doves
And a Bluejay in a Fir Tree
ON DAY 7 of Noel my sweetie gave to me 7 Tundra Swans
6 Brent Geese 5 NEW CRAB RINGS! 4 Red Rock Crabs 3 Prairie Hens
2 Mourning Doves And a Bluejay in a Fir Tree
ON DAY 8 of Noel my sweetie gave to me 8 Dairies Milking
7 Tundra Swans 6 Brent Geese 5 NEW CRAB RINGS! 4 Red Rock Crabs
3 Prairie Hens 2 Mourning Doves And a Bluejay in a Fir Tree
ON DAY 9 of Noel my sweetie gave to me 9 Bull Elk Dancing
8 Dairies Milking 7 Tundra Swans 6 Brent Geese 5 NEW CRAB RINGS!
4 Red Rock Crabs 3Prairie Hens 2 Mourning Doves And a Bluejay in a Fir Tree
ON DAY 10 of Noel my sweetie gave to me 10 Lambs a Leaping
9 Bull Elk Dancing 8 Dairies Milking 7 Tundra Swans 6 Brent Geese
5 NEW CRAB RINGS! 4 Red Rock Crabs 3 Prairie Hens
2 Mourning Doves And a Bluejay in a Fir Tree
ON DAY 11 of Noel my sweetie gave to me 11 Pipets Peeping 10 Leaping
Lambs 9 Bull Elk Dancing 8 Dairies Milking 7 Tundra Swans
6 Brent Geese 5 NEW CRAB RINGS! 4 Red Rock Crabs 3 Prairie Hens
2 Mourning Doves And a Bluejay in a Fir Tree
ON DAY 12 of Noel my sweetie gave to me 12 Canadian Lynx linking
11 Pipets Peeping 10 Leaping Lambs 9 Bull Elk Dancing 8 Dairies Milking
7 Tundra Swans 6 Brent Geese 5 NEW CRAB RINGS!
4 Red Rock Crabs 3 Prairie Hens 2 Mourning Doves
And a Bluejay in a Fir Tree!
Nascent pristine hopes sprout stealthily
from the submerged swamps of anxieties,
parched earth frets over consequences
to fuel naive hopes into realities of void
burdened with the clutter of aged promises,
fervent wind denies hope to flourish
effervescence of faith sustains the sapling.
I shiver at my failed encounters,
lost desires from broken promises;
you radiate truth with a divine Aurora
calming my perturbed oceans of scars,
soothing whispers dissolving delusions.
Your promise of a love that lasts forever
blooms with my infant hope born yet again
in my ancient orchard of disappointments,
perhaps hope is an everlasting promise too.
When my hallucinations overtake my existence
you bridge my fantasies with visible world
and fuse my bliss with your intuition.
Unfulfilled promises, superfluous allegations
in a world where none volunteers to be a promise.
You erase my hazy visions of torn pages
and color them with your dripping love.
Two parallel waves in unison moving forth
rising with crests and falling with troughs
merging in the tranquility of a shore afar
next to the ocean enchanted by seagulls
guiding my lost spirit in storms with your light.
My hopes have grown into a lush fir tree
swaying with your glistening smiles.
You become my universe peeking into imaginations
of my stories, melodies, musings at nights;
and when I return to reality you wait
with my sublime corner by your side,
my book of musings flourishes by your essence.
Perhaps humans should keep their promises,
I believe theirs too get fulfilled someday.
I smile every time the fir tree drenches me
dissolving the fragrance of musk-soaked love
in raindrops and snowflakes of your promise--
To be the love that retains the existence of
everlasting hope in this world-- your promise..
May 28, 2020
The Promise Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Silent One
Winner: First Place
BRIAN'S CHOICE Z,any form,any theme Poetry Contest
Winner: Honorable Mention
"Mummy says now that my heart is broken, nothing will ever hurt me as much again" The Poet.
______________________________________________________________
Fir trees along the road, showing the way.
There's a log cabin, for us to stay.
Daddy built our house by a big fir tree.
A loving place for he, mummy and me.
Mountain country, cozy fires to keep warm,
Wild flowers, where bees love to swarm.
Daddy made a cradle when I was born,
He painted birds on it and a small fawn,
He made wooden blocks for me, I was one,
He piled them up, I knocked them down, such fun.
He made a rocking chair when I was two.
One bigger for mummy and for him too.
When I was three, kennel for my new dog.
When I was four, dolls house made from a log.
At five he made a tire swing on a tree.
The angels took daddy but didn't take me.
He didn't make me anything -I was six.
We went to a big house all made from bricks.
Cant take much, mum said we've to travel light.
I miss my dog and tire swing , it's not right.
Most I miss daddy, need him here with me.
I'll be good, when he comes home he will see.
Mum said he's making stuff with angels now.
He left all his tools, so I don't see how.
I'll stop crying, but we should never part.
When you left, I think you took my heart.
Girls at school said if your dad left it's true.
That he no longer loves your mum and you.
I cant think you dont love us anymore.
Please daddy come home like it was before.
I lie in bed when I cant sleep at night.
I pretend your strong arms hold me tight.
Daddy where's your smile to keep out the cold?
Your soft squeeze when you take my hand to hold.
I thought you were there, I was in that play.
You were clapping so loud, it made my day.
Missing you, I am wondering where you are.
Could you pick me up from school in your car?
When some dads share fun at the park, I cry.
You pushing me on the swing, I would fly.
I could show all the kids, this is my Dad.
Home from Heaven for good, now I'm not sad.
Our night was to be a long one, yet he was a tough tree,
one of strength and resilience for being so tiny and petite.
For years he has been the most giving fir tree to me,
“o, my sweet Piney, I am so grateful we did meet”.
He was just an old tree I found on grandpa’s street.
Though he was a real fir, he never died after the holiday.
After Christmas we stored him in the attic still lit
so that he could still see and play in his own way.
For that warm attic was the most perfect fit.
By that ol’ wooden bay window he always did sit.
This year will be eight years since my sister died,
Piney too was close to her, but this year was hard.
When I strung his lights and hung tinsel he cried,
for her loving heart he had the warmest regard.
His needles starting to wither, yet his top still starred.
So I sat under him and we talked for awhile
about what we would be when we get old.
He looked at me with a sincere laugh and smile,
said, “thank you for bringing me out of the cold.
If not for you I don’t think I’d ever be sold."
I went to bed sad that I had to leave him upset,
for he was so special and I wanted to stay up all night.
But I knew Christmas morning he would not fret,
for it was finally his day! A happy one not contrite.
When I awoke I saw the most beautiful sight.
My sweet boy Piney had grown three times his size!
To this day I still don’t understand just how.
But it was a Christmas miracle right before my eyes,
and I knew he was happy again someway, somehow.
He realized the meaning of Christmas…to Jesus he did bow.
Christmas Tree Poetry Contest
Shadow Hamilton
December 14, 2018
"The wait is over
Northern wind whistles carol
Christmas in the air." - Quote by Poet
Merry Christmas time is in our joyous sight,
embraced by the frosty December ambiance,
as the sun-starved days fade away fast
in the gripping fold of the freezing night.
The leaves of fir trees flash as the stars shine
with the gloss of the gleaming splendor.
In the firmament of our enchanted hearts
elation shimmers bright with the divine light.
The northern wind whispers the winter tune,
mingling with the church bells that toll in solitude.
With the elated children the sleighs slide
on the buried pathways of the meadow white.
The cadence of the carol melody floats
in the air from afar with the heavenly flair,
rides the whirling waves of silent snowflakes,
sparkling with the sequins of mesmeric moonlight.
The portals of our minds will open to insight,
perceive the essence of His boundless kindness
permeate the cauldron of our devotion,
we’ll offer Him from the core of our devout souls.
The sinned will be saved by His munificence,
glittering as the star of the ornate fir tree,
that will glisten with the radiance of kinship,
inspiring us with the belief of Christmas spirit.
Our minds flitter like the beguiled butterfly,
collect the color and scent of sensual flowers,
filling up the cornucopia of delight to the brim,
that we offer Him with dedicated soul full of joy.
The lighted candles will drive the darkness away,
the star will descend on the Christmas tree,
that will glitter with the patina of happy time,
making our hearts pulsate with the festive rhyme.
Another Christmas season has arrived, at last
and like so many others from Yuletides past,
I'm glad some things have remained unchanged
Although the furniture has been rearranged.
Across the room, a fire crackles and burns
Jenny has grown; for love, her heart yearns
I recall when all she wanted was a baby doll
and skates for the new ice rink in the mall
I've been unpacked in just enough time to see
my family hanging ornaments upon their fir tree.
Garlands of holly berries and popcorn strung
The green velvet stockings beneath me are hung
There's gingerbread scent and carols on the radio
Dad sneaked a kiss from Mom under the mistletoe
The angel nods to me as she's lifted into place
atop the tree. She once told me her name is Grace.
There's old Kaci, the collie, fast asleep on his rug
Grandpa looks sad. I wish I could give him a hug
Mom is headed for the mantle to give me a shake
She's always gentle, taking care I don't break.
I was a gift from her Mom on Christmas, long ago
when she had asked Santa to please bring her snow,
but snow didn't fall in the South where she resided.
I was the closest thing Santa had lovingly provided
Tears fill Mom's eyes as my snow starts to flurry
I've become a bit cloudy and that makes her worry,
but I'll see her smile again Christmas Eve night
when she puts me in Jenny's stocking by fire light.
December 15, 2020
Christmas Poems ~ Old or New
Sponsored by ~ Constance La France
How will I be in 10 years,
the fir tree asks the maple,
the calf asks the cow,
the baby splutters out
I need to know before they publish
the writs. I need to know
before my head is presented
on a platter to Salome
Who will follow me?
I need to burn my words
onto the lips of the living
Sort of words
before they wither away
I need to keep talking
to John Donne,
Shakespeare, TS Eliot,
to settle into Rothko’s rectangles
before I am colour blind.
I need to keep talking
to the grassy spirits
With me all day long
before my tongue fails
My arms hurt from clutching you,
heavy bearers of consciousness
and beyond. The book age
is slowly exterminating
Not burning,
simply not being born
How much time remains
for me to hold you,
dine with you,
lick your words,
sort of words
while I still can see them
Last meal,
mine or yours?
I see the chamber emptying
as I forget words and locations.
I need to know how much
time remains
before the boxing up,
the clearing out before I say so
I want to howl for as long as I can
about the injustice of the finite,
the tyranny of counting
how much has passed
The impossibility of knowing
how much is left
I return to the present
to my wit and recall
and my avalanche of discourse
About babies and maples
and being one in flesh and song
I pound to all species
I am here
I am here
I am here
Salome, devil reaper,
wait before you strike,
warn me
wave a rag
send an emissary
to tell me exactly when
(c) Anita Lerek, 2018
Shades of leaves wavering from mauve to ember
colour my lavender spirits in days of November.
When lustrous autumn blankets silently reap,
my glorious desires in ecstasy drench me deep.
A corridor of withering dandelions in dreams
simmers soothing secrets in glistening beams.
Every year I wait for soothing serenade of fall
it wraps my soul in slumber of a Cashmere shawl.
Silver fog shivers to glide with sunlit breeze,
memories melt my heart as snow begins to freeze.
On twirling trumpets of aural leaves I dance,
maple trees orchestrate a proliferous glance.
The hums of wet layered crystals appease dew,
I breathe iridescent aroma of reviving damp hue.
In quietude embossed broken twigs in scarlet rays,
I weave a pattern of opera peeping through haze.
There's an old tree house draped at divine dusk,
I spend my hours inhaling in wind dispersed musk.
My sandcastles of love fly in azure palate of sky,
with echoing wind my embellished petals rise high.
The rivulets under the wooden bridge caress pebbles
longing to strum starry nights as shriveling rebels.
Sequins of crimson in haloed wisps of Autumn tide,
the fir tree shimmers in veils as a stunning bride.
Ah! On starry nights when crystals kiss furling space,
my love blooms in blushing incarnations with grace.
Autumn tiptoes nervously for the forest to be reborn,
a gossamer shield of awakened serenity my cells adorn.
August 17, 2020
Serenity Awakened Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
Word Count: 232
My words are one, and mine alone, there nor right or wrong, just are mine to own,
Nobody can take them away, only I can have word on what I say or feel. I know what I have to say about life, kids, nature, our environment, whether or not climate change is real...
My words are mine and mine alone, have Yuri our ever known an insect the size of rock, who was just hatched, learning how to fly, waiting for the weather to be just right, then opens up its wings that are orange and black, lifts off from its milkweed leaf, and takes to the wide open sky, with only it's internal instinct to guide him to the one special spot where he can maybe take a rest?
My words are mine and mine alone, the majestic monarch butterfly, flies alone to its special spot in Mexico where finally he can bed down on its own oatmeal fir tree, where tens of thousands of its closest friends, join together in clusters, to sleep for months, only to take flight once more back to its home in Canada, which where it will die...
My words are mine and mine alone, but I do know this much, the monarch butterfly can only survive, if we all do our part to plant milkweed, in our yards, so they will continue their journey, in life, and touch everyone who takes the time to see their beauty, if you want to take the time to slow down and take a deep breath, is up to you....
Do your part today and speak up about climate change, the monarch butterflies are waiting...