Long Forestry Poems
Long Forestry Poems. Below are the most popular long Forestry by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Forestry poems by poem length and keyword.
"Has solitude ever led your steps down a forest path . . . "
The mountains are calling me, and I must go and venture outside
I get a tingling in my stomach followed by a memory imprint
Hiking was a meaningful part of my life that I’m afraid has died
Trails and long-distance walks innately like a vortex I was drawn
I strolled along some of the most Linda, Chula, and Buena Vistas
Twisty Canyons I trekked, climbing on days of daunting dusty sands
Hair-raising steep slopes so high I crawled ascending on my hands
Forestry paths I reflect on, missing the woodsy mist and earthy smells
Bone trail pumas and cayotes to be wary of, there was no buffer
I have trodden the main trail as I lead myself into a tranquil meditation
Began my journey by giving thanks and with an informal salutation
I meditated mostly on the Indigenous journey of many sorrows
I imagined what hell it was for the man, woman and their child
Mile after mile day after day, by night besieged, saw no tomorrows
Endlessly they marched far away from their own land evergreen sublime,
Known as “The Trail Of Tears” that lead to a promised land of all time
As their bodies fell embracing the earth after hardships suffered
One by one with their dying breath, their spirits finally were set free
How I long to re-visit the colorful mountains I loved and knew so well
They kept me of sound mind and body and soul, I long for their song What had made me strong now feels so far away I wonder is it gone?
For many days, I am yearning with my pastime longing to bargain for a mountain
Even though I am not knowledgeable about that marchant, for a dealer of that, then.
I long , I wish I could meet
A payment payable for the price, never could cease any upcoming, though hitchhike
I have a river of my own.
I would exchange that for the mountain
Who else is there, not knowing that the mountain costs less than the river
A mountain static, a river enchanting undercurrent for evermore, meandering trail
Yet, I will prefer the mountain in lieu of the river
I would buy
As I will be the thug, trying to be an equitable mug end, a moron.
Even Though the river, bought earlier was possible for a deltaic plain
During my childhood days, I had a brief, accountable memory
of the deltaic plane, free from any obesity
Enriched with the fullest swings of Butterflies, innumerable
When I reached my adolescence, the deltaic plane turned a misfit
Not one size fits all as the demand shows. Rather I loved the running undercurrent of the river.
Friends said, “In exchange for that small delta, this big river!
A deed, indeed!”
With full churns, I used to feel sheer Joy! Then!
Then I loved the river, with all my truth.
The river used to answer many questions of mine,
Such as, “Please inform about the weather forecast of this evening,
Will it rain today?”
Regarding that, the river replied, “Today, here it is a hot and humid northern breeze, passing through."
Only there is incessant down pouring rain over a small delta
What a rain it is! Seems like a festive eve!
I am no longer able to return to that delta.
He knew that! Everyone knows that.
No one is able to return to childhood days.
Now I yearn to buy a mountain.
The foothill of the mountain will be about dense forestry
I will travel along the forest, and then
This will all be all hard mountain trail
To the top, up close
The sky, hung, close, the lowly world underneath
An agonizingly ruthless silence, with no one nearby.
My voice will not be heard there, audible to no one.
Facing the world with the happening entity, I shall speak
Everyone is here for boasting, here I am a loner in my perceiving try
Instead of a victory, here, I beseech in mercy.
O my world! I am not sinful
Have mercy on me!
Copyright © Tamanna Ferdous | Year Posted 2024
Echo blasts,
as it's all hunky-dorey in an iconoclasts contrasts,
displacement of my courageousness on a dumb-fast
tele~cast,
the resumed movement 28 days later wasn't even just as fast;
it was what was all along in my
aged economical forestry please-
in a delved and dormant door-mat that I once seized-
it came and went like a breeze,
but over came me,
it even behaved like the beast.
But with all this loss of law please-
unveil for a prince his own memory,
travel for the farm every existence in sequential feast-
the con-mans academic lean,
a sordid snape's reconciliation.
See through peace as peace was once an innocent things thing,
but never bring,
never feel a sleeping wing,
just josh and joist with brothers keepers,
steal the stew we love deeper seasoned and evaporated reapers-
because lord did they appear,
and dormant was their meal,
my first,
my last,
and entry of my free feel.
Inside the forestry of his heart I live
inhaling the scent of his deep woods
I could never fill those Timberlands boots
nor explain the thrill that he provides
when he arrives at the grove of my soul
and whispers, "Darling, I love you "
softly cloaked and protected by his pine
I am evergreen in moments like these
Existing in this charming jungle of love
I could never retrace my steps, for
arriving in this place of no return
I feel as suitable as a thriving conifer
Inside this evergreen existence, I just am
breathing in the fragrance of his loyalty
I feel like a woman in love, ...
After a lifetime of bending, to his will
I am the wind that blows on his heart
when I get to him, I just breathe...
Human beings are strange...
Their abilities of destruction know no range,
You didnt put anything here...
but you misuse and abuse everything you find everywhere.
Such great ability to create and yet we work so hard to decimate.
Because of our lack of care....all living things exist in fear.
What else can Man do to us now? they think...
And in God's eyes we continue to shrink.
No respect for branches or bone,
No understanding of the concept of "Home",
You sleep in a gated community,
After slashing and burning forestry,
Tossing babies into flood drains,
Because on your carpet they left stains,
You take and take with an air of entitlement,
But you have done nothing to deserve it,
What??? Is your conscience dead?
And your heart made of lead?
The earth might someday lift its face,
When these humanoids start behaving like the human race.
Until then I will do my part and hold my own.
And hope that in this fight...I'm not alone.
The crook of vampire’s bed, the moth and silk.
Each time he slept, a century’d gone by.
Afraid of key and lock, and lock of ilk—
hers golden spun atop the steeple spry.
The belfry bell at midnight’s bite, a cry—
no priest did hear confess as blight befell.
The fading moon, the hollow breach of hell.
Awakes to candlelight, the shrouded draw
of curtains forestry in thick of knell.
She hears the eek and shred of sharpest claws.
The bat is never satisfied, his eyes
do pierce the longest gloom of Winter’s white.
His dark decrepit cape— a purple vine.
The brood of brows and lids release no light.
Along the drift, one’s cross is much too bright.
The bloodsucker attentive, her laughter—
his strife. He clasps his ears. His thoughts chase her.
She hides below her hood— she’s dressed to kill.
This century he’d caught a chill— class fur
with stake. Her prowess aim— to break his will.
9/21/20
Emile Pinet’s Dizain contest
All submitted poems must use :
https://www.rhymezone.com/
https://www.howmanysyllables.com
you'd awakened my senses again
forming of calm nectar giving off a ray
of colorful hues pastel pines scents
my thoughts were vague withered beneath
me while my eyes danced a certain wilderness
I suppose tamed an yet wildly moved beyond
the hidden currents of you and I why I folded
above a chafe finding an yet you were there again
just like before I'd catered to the grand posture
of the unseen snowcapped mountains beaming
throughout sunlit branches covering the forestry
tapered about warm meaningful lessons gathered
just so as I began to drift quietly entering into
soft dimensional haste your shyness of a hesitant
need to pull out away from my foundation
while nestled so neatly a tethered fit roughly
bruised an yet healed instantly forming a newness
while i eagerly welcomed your home coming feast
The early years of her life seemed riddled with emotional scares;
but in time, though she had no sign of any timelines, she would heal.
She came from a long line of rain forests, forests that had no rain
to enable them to produce balms, salves, and healing medicines.
To her answer to the ever resounding question of, "Is there no balm
in Gilead? Is there no physician there?*; there always came an
answer of seeming hopelessness from the mouth of a big wide-eyed owl,
"No, No, No! Never, never!" Throughout that barren forest were paths
paved with fear, doubt, worry, mistrust, and disbelief. It was such a path of unfairness destined to be navigated by a most innocent one as Angelica;
and she fertilized that unseemly and unfriendly pathway with years of pain and shame. But unlike millions who treaded that same path of hostility
and terror, Angelica refused to succumb to the repeated assaults and reached the Eastern end of the forestry where awaiting her was a beautiful
chirping bird, the likes of which was never seen in life or dream. Every soul soothing chirp drew her closer, as the language of that life saving bird
revealed these words: "This Way My Love, where your every experience will be as harmless as a dove".
020321FBPS
*Jeremiah 8:22
WE ARE THE LIVING TREES AND WE LIVE CLOSE TO THE EARTH .
WE SPREAD OUR BRANCHES FROM COAST TO COAST AND THRIVE
WITH EARTH, WATER, AND SUN. JUST LIKE HUMANS DO. (B)
WE CLEAN THE AIR YOU BREATHE AND SPREAD OUR BRANCHES
WIDE, HOPING TO GIVE YOU SHELTER THROUGH ALL TIME. (B)
GATHER TOGETHER AROUND OUR TRUNK AND YOU WILL FEEL
THE ENERGY OF LIFE THAT COMES FROM OUR ANCESTORY LOT.
WE BRING UNITY TO PARKS AND FORESTRY AND GIVE SHELTER
TO THE BIRDS OF THE AIR. (B)
WALK THROUGH THE PATH AND LOOK UP TO OUR BRANCHES
WATCH US WAVE HELLO FROM OUR GRAN TOWER OF NATURE (B)
DEER USE US FOR A RESTING GROUND, SQUIRRELS HIDE THEIR
HIDDEN TREASURE ,WHERE NO MAN CAN SEE. (B)
WRAP YOUR ARMS ROUND US AND LISTEN TO THE WHISPERS
THAT LEAF THROUGH YOUR EARS. WE ARE GOODNESS IN the LIVING.
WE ARE THE LIVING TREES OF LOVE, so PLEASE TAKE CARE OF US.(B)
those
who has so long been submerged
in the water of the womb-cave
now when the sun rises
would they put their lips in action
the pantograph
the wheat-plants
that has been sowed in autumn
the shyness of the houses
going away farther and farther
how much should i become glum
for those stations
on which i suppose to never put my steps
since taking birth
the same story of huggis and wrappers
i’ve told you to say good bye
to the portman
full of rust
and to make an aquarium
for the flying-fishes
with the water-moon
there may also exist
some social forestry
mr slumber
you can’t keep the good-wishes
arranged properly
so as soon as the eyes get open
the palpitations start
Form: