Long Ivy Poems
Long Ivy Poems. Below are the most popular long Ivy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ivy poems by poem length and keyword.
I went out to the mailbox to get today's mail,
Mixed in with the same household bills and trivial
Junk mail, was a padded vanilla envelope,
With a China postmark. I don't recall, nope, nope,
Ordering anything from China. The pack looked
Quite mysteries and just begging to be opened.
A bag of seeds to my surprise. Weeds or flowers
Will not hurt, maybe herb, fruit, or shady bowers.
A garden filled with blooms. Oh, fragrance can consume.
What you are I wonder. So, I google, how to
Plant seeds. I followed the directions step-by-step,
Burying the seed. I watered and fertilized.
I went in the garden this morning, breathless with
Joy, seeds burst into huge flowers, ivy, and weeds.
8/17/2020
"Mystery Seeds" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Carolyn Devonshire
Things
change
just fall
to shadows
of distant sweet dreams
God seems to be far, far away
the memories of my dead family are fading
I want to hold onto these distant things and memories, so I struggle to keep them
My
heart
broken
love is gone
lost in distant time
I want to be wrapped in his arms
our hands entwined and listening to his heart beating
I need my baby-my mom-my dad and have tea with my grandma and hug my sister
I
want
all these
distant things
oh, can I hold them
and hide them beneath the ivy
protected and eternal and forever with me
distant things we did and precious memories, all hidden under the ivy, twining
___________________________
June 10, 2016
Fibonacci x3
For the contest, Distant Things
sponsor, John Lawless
Third Place
I stand here 'neath these vines of old
Wrapped by the arms of stories told
The lads and lasses, bright and bold
A dancing brown-eyed blond
Of whom I'd been quite fond
I'd found her here, below this green
Those chestnut eyes, all of fourteen
Brought I, a senior, still quite green
Thru metaphor, to my knees
Her fain pawn, if you please
Then shared in all that love imparts
We gangling fools, in fits and starts
Too zealous for our bleeding hearts
To care where passions led
Found reckless in its stead
Now I'm back here, gone the years
Yet stirs my soul, amidst the fears
Her sweet voice still avails my ears
From all the memories lost
How much our loves can cost ...
How much, our loves ...
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Late February 2019 Any Form Or None" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
The great big oak tree casts off his coat while the rest of us put ours on,
Throwing down the golden-brown piles of spiky leaves,
A dance floor for the couple everyone’s talking about.
It’s their time now, their time in the pallid sun!
And sure, Holly might make a scene, berry-ripe in snow, like children’s faces,
But her slender partner really steals the show.
Ivy’s green, she winds, she twists, she makes her place secure – winds both ends at one go.
And oak and ash don’t mind her creeping up and down – they know.
They know as well as you and I
That when the summer’s in the sky
And flowers are all in bloom,
Ivy dies before the trees. Her time comes all too soon.
Her brilliant red veins can blind you
The shimmer of her leaves is deadly
Her allergens will find you
Thoughts of her vines weigh heavy
Ur mind will find no cure for her poison
Itching at ur desire
Memories burning with passion & fire
Thick vines climbing up the wall of ur dreamz
Robust leaves soaking up the sun beams
Longing for her touch consumes my every fiber
Her poison isn't fast like a viper
Beautiful to the eye shining like a jewel
Deadly to the touch of a fool
She'll leave u scarred and broken
Anaphylactic and chokin'
Her touch lingers under ur skin
The only relief is to touch her again
Lusting for her poison like a fiend
Searching the forest 4 her leaves of red & green
Poison Ivy climbes through my thoughts
The mighty Elm said to the Vine,
“On me you may climb, to reach out for the sun.”
Ivy was not shy, for she had her reasons why,
So replied to the Elm, “only if you don’t mind?”
The Elm being proud, looked Ivy in the eye,
“I see no reason why we both cannot survive?”
So Ivy held on tight and prospered in the light.
So much so she could not let go.
After many happy years, the Elm began to creak,
Ivy had grown and grown,
So much so the Elm was barely known.
Finally the Elm did die, suffocated from the sky,
With Ivy still around, it stood no longer in the ground.
Bringing Ivy right along, now both had finally gone.
creeping through the darkness,
like million crabs on the hunt,
devouring lives here and there,
leaving empty shells of memories.
a breakdown of divine commands,
the devil guides their way,
a mother is lost, a child is dead,
claims a granny, or a newly wed.
for centuries now it has invaded,
from early medieval times,
as time went by numbers grew,
each year more it slew!
radiation from nuclear heads,
or industrial chemicals flood lives,
food, air and water no longer safe,
setting the crabs on their march!
cancer is the result of our own evil,
nourished by our quest for change,
more drugs we invent for its cure,
stronger the disease grew!
If we must stop this creeping crab,
we must stop and turn in our tracks,
Medicine will not stop the disease,
but living clean natural lives will!
grow own vegetables in your land,
drink clean water and not fizzy pop,
rid your house of processed food,
and packaged poisonous meals!
take a walk, breathe morning air,
sit by the river and hear birds sing,
if you let nature be your doctor,
you will leave the crab far behind
1st Placement
written 20/06/21
Chantelle Anne Cooke sponsored
Cancer Ivy contest
Hey, would you care to chat? Actually, I think you should take a seat, and listen as a matter of fact. Don’t take this too hard but you’re invasive, like English Ivy; smothering. You are very ostentatious. Seeking any eyes admiration. You're pretentious and that word could be found carved into your tooth’s cavity, by a craigslist dentist. Probably how you started to speak your own language. Guess it’s expected the Novocain has you singing notes of your testament, in Life’s chair found is your true confessions . What has you trembling, feeling like now's the time to confess your sins? The end has always been subjective, but nonetheless expected. He forgives , though sadly humans don’t forget, the wrongs onto them that were committed by wickedness. Recently I learned that it wasn’t by a stranger who made me hurt, it was but a memory of one of my past characters. That cuts. So it’s onto getting through overcrowded unreliable thoughts from different versions that were shed, when we changed and evolved on, just a memory in our head. Moments of you, from versions of few, where all the characters were played by no one other than you. Lead was always within you. That is what I just learned. That everyone you meet, everyone you’ve hurt, they are just external parts of you existing still trying to gain worth . Its an odd truth to observe, but it tickles your thoughts and makes you reconsider being unkind to anyone as they are just a reflection of you from the past lives that lived within you.
Author's note: Talk is good, conversation is better. I don't know that any good ever came out of an argument, and in a supposedly enlightened society, no subject should be off limits.
In hallowed halls of ivy 'cross the nation,
In dorm rooms and classrooms,
Quadrangles and halls,
In locker rooms and laundry rooms,
In bookstores and malls,
Campus U's and coffee bars,
City trans and private cars,
Etc., etc., etc.,
Students and academics alike
Love to get up early and stay up late
To discuss or argue and debate
A plethora of currently controversial,
Debatably debatable,
Arguably arguable issues, i.e.:
Evolution or creation;
Salvation or damnation;
Missile ranges; climate changes;
Global warming; eco-farming;
Obesity; incontinence;
Casual sex or abstinence;
Free love or marriage,
Same sex or straight;
Labor or capital;
Minimum pay rate;
Democracy or autocracy;
Despotism or anarchy;
Christianity or paganism;
Civilization or barbarism;
Religion or terrorism;
More prisons or more schools;
Why so many grammar rules;
Why the federal deficit mounts;
Whether oral sex really counts;
Wearable technology;
Is war a perversion or merely perverse;
Our position in the universe;
To be or not to be;
Is there an end to infinity;
Etc., etc., etc.
And they always strive with utmost care
To present both sides of a question equitably
Because it makes them feel aloof and erudite,
Impersonal yet superior,
Open-minded, objective, and fair,
Detached from everything but essential abstract truths.
With meticulously researched facts
Neatly organized on index cards or iPads,
They argue passionately and hotly,
But behind the facts and figures,
And once they've gotten past the fads,
They have no real passions
Or even any real feelings about the issues
One way or the other,
Except the somewhat nagging concern
That they might be right…
Or wrong…
And then what?
Author's additional note: I'm not sure which "category" to put this piece under, dear readers. Any suggestions?
Here she comes again with that dingy pink watering can
I’m soaked as it is; I’ve tried to tell her, STOP WATERING!
But no, thirsty or not, I’d better get ready for it
Now Lily doesn’t mind, Peace Lily, that is, she drinks a lot
And that’s her business but I’m turning brown down to the roots
Hey Lily, wake up girl; I don’t like to talk but, PASSED OUT AGAIN!
As for me, is a little soil test too much to ask for?
It’s a bit ticklish, a finger in a sensitive spot
But she’d know that we are all not thirsty at the same time
Well, for now, back to her favorite game, DROWNING IVY!
9/18/17