Long Grass Poems
Long Grass Poems. Below are the most popular long Grass by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Grass poems by poem length and keyword.
I step onto the path with burdens weighed.
A chill wind at my back, the skies are lead.
Because this is the day the Lord has made,
I look about to learn what He has said.
The blooms of humble weeds show off their lace,
as harsh wind turns to gentle fragrant breeze.
The sun breaks through the clouds and warms my face.
Once naked trees are green with budding leaves.
From Winter’s grip the world is breaking free
and soon will be aflutter and abuzz.
A joy begins to bubble within me
to see the tender grass where snow just was.
My burden lighter now, I start to sing,
and trust the God who orchestrates the spring.
March 12, 2021
Contest: Breath of Spring
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
Reflection - The Fragrance of Grace
Mail order catalogs seem to have the ability to procreate in my mailbox. Just when I think I have rendered them infertile they give birth to multiple sets of quintuplets right under my nose as if by magic fertilization! And, of course, I have to examine these newborn opportunities to raid my bank account just to make sure I haven’t missed some article of clothing or thing I can’t possibly live without for the survival of sanity and my eternal happiness. They are like new spring leaves!
spring sprouts in new leaves
boughs sport jackets of light green ~
chartreuse convention
A new arrival from a New England country store pictured a garden of stately purple iris that immediately grabbed my hand and took me on a ride back into my grandmother’s iris garden with delicate, yet eloquent, perfume wafting from silky petaled garden royalty.
Each page was an adventurous journey through my childhood reminiscing about miracle wrinkle erasing creams, magic bunion healers and kitchen gadgets long declared useless by technology. But, one page made me stop, drop and drool - perfumes. No nascent scents but old friends looking at me from glossy pages bringing to mind the women who gave my life definition – the Royal Secret of my grandmother; Bellodgia and Gardenia of my favorite aunts; Tigress of my tigress mother and Blue Grass, a Kentucky meadow perfume of my teens.
These remarkable women straddled fleeing decades, crushing depressions, cataclysmic world wars often suffering the unthinkable loss of infants, children, husbands, siblings and miscarriages. Yet, through their signature scents, they taught me about thanksgiving in tragedy, faith in grieving and the irrepressible iron will to live in the fragrance of grace.
harlequin bouquets
fragrance of flower’s essence ~
sunlight washed gardens
4-21-21
Contest: Moments of Reflections
Sponsor: Malabika Ray Choudhury
Speaking To The Silent Hill
A silent hill and sleepy soft wind
Tall moist woods all around
Rain just stopped and silence ruled
Fainting weather deadly gelid
No sounds here except my voice
Your silence is a great surprise
What is the mystery of this hill?
Appearing creepy, lonely and ill
Wild grass gathered in crowd
Round, round all around
Very dreadful these little guards of woods
Their savage thorns
Ferocious, vicious
To every one they remind
Wild is wild never refined
For echo when I shout in hill
They come very dim and dull
Only hollow echoes, not any trill
But fills me with thrill
Red orange clouds before the sun
Twilight rays as blazing fire
Like cruel queen in the mirror
In angry mood with open hair
The ruler of that silent nature
Who captures all the voices here
Silent, silent, Oh silent hill.
All Rights Reserved
Poetess S. Nadia Azam Shah Bukhari.
The True Form of Life
Life: A timeless adventure from beginning to end.Beginning as an infant with no worries or secrets,To an elderly senior with desires to live and explore, More than it’s given time.Seeing the great values of life and beauty, Through the eyes of which never grow old,And is the strongest muscle in our bodies.Using our voice to make an input into the world,To finding the answers hidden deep in our souls.Our minds take on the hardest quest,Than any life obstacle could ever thrust before us.But in time, our minds will disintegrate,And all those adventures will never be told nor uncovered.The memories will fade, and the love and strength we control, Will cease to exist.It is the greatest struggle we all fail to accept.Life ends one way or another.Our lifeless bodies become grass and get to live on whether we know it or not, Until the world ends. From traveling coast to coast and,To clinging on to life possessions earned overseas.It is the ruins of the adventures and passionsthat we try so desperately, to express.Seeing your thirst for beauty expand,Then learning gratitude from our hearts and minds. In a new perspective.One day, the concussions and internal memories,Shall be fulfilled and placed into an eternal tomb.The secrets, hopes, and dreams, may never be fully reinstated,But it shall be recognized.Once you tell someone,Once, you let your guard down,Once you let your person be known,May you truly share a place in this world.It is known as the true form of life.The journey you started and want to continue for years to come,Will be not forgotten,But embedded into the minds of the new generation.Then, finally the struggle to life, Will be no more.
Across the prairie, driving fast,
a gust of wind, I cannot pass,
I’m transfixed by rippling grass,
stop the car in this empty space,
the blades all move in staggered waves.
Cattle graze nearby, lazily,
to the motion the pay no heed,
though one stares warily at me,
but I’m still caught by the motion
of wind through this tallgrass ocean.
So different from eastern forest,
or baking desert nearly lifeless,
why should I be en rapt by this?
I who have scaled a rocky range,
seen buttes and needles, landforms strange.
Looked at canyons bigger that states,
at glaciers that smash mountains great,
how could flat grassland ever rate?
But whispered motion of stalks long
entrances me…I must gaze on.
Yesterday tropical storm Isaias battered Lindenwood,
I saw people walk past those trees bent by a vicious wind;
they lost their umbrellas and their baseball caps:
they were warned to stay inside to avoid slips and falls.
This neighborhood is a sanctuary for starlings,
pigeons and little egrets who eat plenty of insects,
but dangerous winds and terrential rain made them flee;
they have returned this morning to greet their friend Ashlee.
Nobody likes a windy day that messes up their hair,
muggy air makes one sweat, only a cool breeze helps;
broken branches cover cars, lawns and sidewalks,
scared Billy still hides in the closet and it's not a bear.
I sympathize with the hummingbirds with their lively feathers,
and the spruce grouses with brown and black plumage;
I should also mention the yellow-breasted palm warblers...
these pretty birds are also found in thick forests as if in bondage.
The August rainstorm scared kids away from the nearby lake,
they watch the downpour and the gusts of wind flinging blows
to the wide window that steadly shakes and they ask if it's an earthquake;
their dad is very upset seeing the winter logs scattered on the littered grass.
Nature is not always kind, most times is cruel and merciless
and we feel its wrath as a punishment, but is it God doing this?
No, it's Mankind doing deforestation allowing floods and brutal storms;
no, it's the industrial chiminies that emit smoke that destroy our lungs.
Do you remember Helen Keller?
She was a really awesome speller
Who couldn't hear nor see nor speak,
So to communicate
She would ges-tic-u-late.
Marcel Marceau spoke perfect French,
But he was helpless in a pinch
Because a mime does not converse,
Or even curse, such is his fate,
He must ges-tic-u-late.
Polynesian girls who hula
Often dance for poi or moola.
They rake in tips with swaying hips
As their grass skirts gyrate,
And they ges-tic-u-late.
Magicians cause a great sensation
With their prestidigitation,
They make assistants disappear,
And even levitate,
When they ges-tic-u-late.
Upon the mound, a pitcher scans
The fingers of the catcher's hand.
To show how curved, or fast, or slow
The ball should go across the plate,
He will ges-tic-u-late.
When good ideas you hit upon them,
Use your hands, don't sit upon them,
Get your point 'cross to your boss,
Let me reiterate.
Conversation's more impressive
If animatedly expressive
And your vocabulary's rich and up-to-date.
So when you talk stop dilly dallyin'
And be more like an Italian,
Give your reticence a rest
And just ges-tic-u-late.
Author's note: Dear reader, if I may paraphrase Nancy Sinatra...These hands were made for talkin'.
When God doesn't send rain directly to my brown lawn, the lawn looks to me
Whether he knows it or not, I am one one God's earthly watering instruments
I am one of many of God's creatures employed at the water department
I water all my flowers, some of the grass, and I never forget my plum tree
Water doesn't come cheap, and we have government policies about water
It's a serious matter, and one never sees that liquid gold wasted or misused
Certain hours, I can only water three days a week, and that's the water rule
Being conservative in doing our part is the thing that really matters
My investigation found that the high cost of water is due to delivery systems
One small fee for water with a huge price being paid for installing water meters
Water, not money, can be saved with 2-minute showers from hot water heaters
My roses have color, my tomatoes do okay, but a brown lawn is just 'a given'
09072018PoSoupContest, Enclosed Rhyme, Dear Heart; Three verses, 4 lines each
In my dream, I sailed away
Over the tame waters of a tranquil bay
And landed in a magic isle
Never set foot before by anyone alive
A pleasant retreat of birds and beasts
Far removed from world’s dust and heat
A terra incognita with a magic spell
Hidden away at Nature’s veiled breast
The sky was rent with songs of birds
The air, smelling of odors sweet
Here and there were exotic blooms
Bulrush, Blue bells and Lavenders fresh
I roamed frivolously from end to end
Of that enchanted land of idyllic charm
With twining creepers and silken grass
Proclaiming aloud of a perennial spring
My heart leaped in euphoric delight
My senses alerted in ecstatic thrill
My feet moved in an explorer’s gait
After the treasures stashed in its caverns deep
I rambled relentlessly through untrodden paths
Feasting on the marvels, my eyes could catch
Arching trees framing a leafy roof
And fruits, ripe and raw, hanging from every bough
As Nature, thus unveiled her bounty before,
My fancy, unfettered took to wings.
I loved my sway over that terra incognita
With treasures galore that none could claim
August. 12.2022
~ Placed First~
This or That, Vol.13.Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Edward Ibeh
At times, the feel of the sun on my whole body is delicious
How warm, how comforting, how addicting
Of the sun's rays I shall never have enough
Why, amidst life's harsh darting arrows
The warmth of the sun is like a protective umbrella!
At other times, the caress of the wind is arousing
It tends to guide me towards adventure
It tends to bid me to listen to its call
To imagine that somewhere, on high grounds
It can take the form of hot air balloons and just swipe me away!
More, each time, the touch of the rain feels soothing
The flames that inhabit my body die out
And cooled off, I can shake my toils away
And smile at life
As if I were its own queen!
And of course, the wet and cold grass is inviting
On it, I do feel like reclining
For as long as my free time shall allow me to
Grass, smelling like the paths of the other worlds
Bid me to smile, at nothing and no one in particular!
Pray, to enjoy the display of nature
I have chosen to remain unattached
And carefree
Unburdened, even if this implies
That I shall have to be penniless!
Yes, there, scotched on the mountain side, I get to dream
Of flying like birds
Of flying without wings
Of swimming in torrid waters
Of touching the moon, while keeping my feet on Earth!
Pray, I shall not get home tonight
I shall sit and wait on the mountains for the moon to show up
Who knows, I might turn into a werewolf
Or meet a romantic vampire
Who knows where my nature-bent imagination shall take me?