Long Juniper Poems
Long Juniper Poems. Below are the most popular long Juniper by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Juniper poems by poem length and keyword.
Oooh now then. Oh just wow. A scarlet salivating sentinel sentiment is wafting air at that door. Blowing. Blowing is not bubbling so do not count powder puffs or smoke globules that radiate sideways. It is wise to brush the hair of radishes if kept as pets as jess the juniper plant will inform crystal curtains if the duty of brush is not attended to. And the duty of brush is a popular sight for passing breezes in microscopic skirts. Pitter patter titter tattle then. Tittering teasing tenacious tingles. Trapping. Tripping. Taking. Then up and away with all the finer scented procrustean produce. In a giant orbital cloud. Decorated in proud prints and self determined make up that costs way over the price of a single bag of flour to dust the cheeks. It is more often that a mock moronic macro macaroni makes an energy beam to an enemy of eggplants. But eggplants can be radically and powerfully transforms and transported into the wide dance halls of many a lunar ocean ballroom. Dance carefully carrying the sand, the ships, and the oven gloves. We wouldn't want spillage would we? So very wasteful. Wasteful waist coated wasters wantonly willing war. And a five centimetre slug jet skiing on the wild tepid waters at ease with all possibilities of a handwritten swirly note with a flowery kiss. Playful and play. Playing and placing. And the sharp wide angle from a spotted viewfinder is never quite enough to seal a deal with a seal, a serpent and a pillar of margarine. Quanta quintet. And a portal of pigs parading in a seventy seven acre of orchard pie. Monkeys dangling from trees throwing dirt at ignorance. And the jester fish trots by on the shire horse on a blue sunny afternoon. Age after age after age after age after age. Clever created canopies cuddle cute clams. Clap then. One two three four clap clap clap. And give a loud cheer like hurrrraaahhhhhhh. Then lie down then stand up. Quickly. Central controlled colonies collect. Drag no tin of ham or peas to the airports. Z quintillion Z quintessential Z at fifty four rotating square pegs with long curvaceous legs ti twelve turkeys tuning tinned terrapin tunes. Bing bang bong bung in a bungalow. Laughing. Like ha ha ha ha ha. And a cute semi polarised cat in a tight fitting bathing hat in a bathroom. Z and that was the latest news. Z
Form:
Egnehenots – of earth and stone
Chief elder – most wise upon the Salisbury Plain
an old man . . . loved deeply
revered father of the land
wakes before the sunrise
speaks with a clear wind voice
it is time . . . retniw ecitslos
The twelve bow . . . form together
three to a side
lift Otsego – clear water running
high in the air
in liturgical movements
move across the dark plain
whitlow grass . . . juniper shrubs . . . wild thyme . . .
sweeten the air
moss laden stones
soft upon leather-bound feet
Within the wind
haunting cries of the stone curlew
crested newts scramble for cover
the great bustard cuts the air with powerful wing beats
Ancient burial mounds appear
a sacred circle of life emergences
the procession stops . . . lowers
Egnehenots steps down, blesses the twelve
enters the holy inner circle alone
Laying his head against the mighty sarsens
begins to chant . . .
father of the blue stones
creator of the big sky light
upon these rocks I cling for your life
from sky, to earth let your love flow
On this holy day
your strength is once again revealed
wind and rain obey your commands
days, nights, seasons march to your song
how great and mighty is your power
Hear our cries upon the wind
absorb our tears upon the earth
our breath upon your mighty rocks
be now amongst your people
send forth the sun and rain
let the earth bring forth its riches
so that we may dance in your radiance
The sun breaks the horizon
Sending out shafts of lights
streaking across the sky
clouds turning purple then into shades of reds, oranges
a single ray of light strikes forth
straight as an arrow
illuminating the altar stone
connecting slaughter stone
and finally . . . the heel stone
Where
Where, an old man clings
A loud cheer explodes from the village
Food and wind flow – a celebration
A new year begins -
Rain clouds appear in the west
Egnehenots – of earth and stone
Love Generously
David Meade
12/8/2015
The Man casts a shadow purulent with stealth
Having seen his apportion of nebulous days.
In fear of himself... too long on the shelf
And a vague memory of far better days.
He then lowers his head.
Overcome with a feeling of dread.
Dreaming of marmalade and bread...
As he ponders the end of his days.
"I'm the Marmalade King!" He shouts
To a world passing him by.
"I'm the Marmalade King," he pouts
To those who are left alive.
"Was I somebody once?" He reflects.
"Who was treated with gentile respect?
But I have a vehement tendency to forget
This thing for which I strive."
"There are vile beasties intent on mischief."
He whispers to a Juniper tree aside his tent.
"They task me when I am fast asleep
In a melancholy slumber of sly torment."
Now the tree failed to address
To the comments so pressed
But the King would have to confess,
"You seem a perfect and absolute gent."
"If I truly be King?" He continued to say.
"Then I should lord over all that I see.
But my Kingdom seems to have filtered away
And I'm not sure where my subjects might be.
So I will remain here on this spot
Until my loyal subjects are brought
Whether they come freely or caught,"
Said the King to the Juniper tree.
"Oh how silly of me... I've made a mistake."
He said as he rose from his chair.
"It is good to have given my head a fair shake
As there are new facts of which I'm aware.
I've been unloading my fears
But it has now become clear
While standing right here...
My Kingdom is right over there!"
"I see you're a conifer of hearty regard,"
Said the King to the Juniper tree.
"We must do well to keep up our guard
As lesser mortals have been known to flee.
But I've come to the conclusion.
The outer world is a fallacious delusion
And if I'm meant for seclusion...
I'm glad it's just you and me."
While a callous world attempts to ignore him,
There is a venue for which he might cling.
Made only for him... less dour and grim,
Where he has control over differing things.
And in that sacrosanct place.
He will find not a whiff of disgrace.
Bathed in the love of God's Grace...
All hail the Marmalade King!!
The End
I shared my bed with a dog last night…her name is Juniper…
There is a very logical reason I shared my bed with her.
Juniper is our youngest son Ryan and his fiancé’s dog…a source of their pride and joy…who can chase a ball for hours…who still plays with doggie toys.
Who even though she’s a full grown dog still has a lot of puppy in her.
Who in the morning loves to eat her breakfast…and lets you know when it’s time for dinner
When Amy’s 96 year old grandmother passed away after a long and wonderful life…which to the family was still too brief…we asked Amy if there was anything we could do to help to assuage her grief.
Of course love and support are all we can offer…each person deals with grief in their own way…but she asked if we’d watch Juniper while she and Ryan were away.
We said of course…we’d be happy for Juniper to come for an overnight stay
So the next morning they dropped her off…thanked us and then went on their way
When they left we we made sure not to make a ruckus, not to cause a commotion or too much of a fuss…Realizing although we both knew who Juni was…she really didn’t know us.
She must have been wondering…the two people she loves…where in the world did they go….and why did they leave me in this strange house with two people I don’t know.
She kept looking at the door…every time it opened a crack…
Hoping, I imagine, for Ryan and Amy to come back.
So to help her cope with the situation….to accept her confusing paradigm….
we let her snack a little more than normal…and threw her ball a thousand times.
We did the best we could to let her know everything would be all right…
One of us stayed home at all times…so she could keep us in her sight.
We gave her love, we exercised her, we kept her safe and warm and fed…
but she was still a little nervous when it came time for to bed.
So after a small discussion Deborah and I agreed
That I’d sleep in the spare bedroom and take Juniper with me.
I think Juni understood…as she matched me stride for stride…
and before I even invited her up…she was sleeping by my side.
I think sometimes we forget how our pets can be affected by a family tragedy…
Which is why I shared my bed with Juniper last night…
and why we both slept so peacefully
self proclaimed er calculating polymath
no win tent to kindle,
or spark hay8 full ire rate wrath
juiced whiling away
the early evening hour hath
horror hived this february
twenty second, nah scared to take a bath.
The Process (is a Process All Its Own)
eye up ply applies
to brain storming with zest to whit
barn storming across das plains of google
to pitchfork embers tuff flickr tinder lee
with smart poetic dip pose zit
tool loom hen ate interior darkness
where lurks the monstrous akin to Perdido
otherwise known as perdition,
especially Native American
linkedin as The Buffalo Hunter
pseudonym adopted by Ballard and Sandrine,
The Green Woman, whose Side predicted to win
Pork Pie Hat predicated on FengShui yang and yin
force fields property aligned creates A Special Place
predominantly filled with A Dark Matter
only known (bee you wick), i.e.,The Skylark
and of course Poe's Children, totaling 5 Stories
helpful to down with a chaser
viz - The Little Blue Book Of Rose Stories
Ideally red (red) in The Night Room,
where an unsuspected parvenu
absconded with Lost Boy, Lost Girl
housing Magic Terror, but interestingly
one must ask - Isn't It Romantic?
Via the perspective Looking Back
feigning to be combination of Mr. X, and/or
and Mrs. God innocent looking people
yet, the progenitors of The Hellfire Club
burnt offerings indistinguishable from Blue Rose
fragrance or melancholy Ghosts
resembling trumpeting Floating Dragon
invoking grabbing by The Throat sensation
Where spirits flit to and fro
throughout neighborhood Houses Without Doors
and games without frontiers
this...a millennial Mystery
unlike the generic Ghost Story,
the main anti protagonist and/or
pro antagonist, nonetheless named Koko
who calls The Juniper Tree home
especially eerie Under Venus
provoking Wild Animals
to run berserk at lightspeed
en masse Black Sabbath
bestirs cries and whispers
proto, pseudo psychedelic
quint essence ova thermocouple
holo graphic images hypnotizing vista as Shadowland
explicit formula generating happy interacial Marriages
nah...ha - ah, the joe cuz on ewe
especially, If You Could See Me Now!
Our friend Balgar having passed leaving Willow to take his place rests in peace. Willow struggled to find her way until she went to the summer Solstice there she met many other druids from whom she learnt so much, bursting to try them out she went a little away until everything was quiet and still.
She started a fire from which she hung a cauldron and filling it with fresh pure spring water and a bunch of herbs she left it to infuse. So caught up in what she'd learnt she jumped when high priest druid Juniper spoke to her asking what she was brewing. Just a few herbs for healing wounds she replied, ah he said add some of these to it. So she did asking what they were moon stars he replied greatly taken by her gentle ways. She had much to ask him about as the night sky darkened he taught her much about herbs and life slowly she settled against him and they sat quietly together drinking in the dark night and the feelings they both felt until he gently embraced her to him looking down on her. She raised her head and softly kissed him and took him into her after they finished mating he held her tight until daybreak. Be on your way Willow he said we are not likely to meet again our paths go different ways.
Sadly she watched him fade into the nearby woods and wished she could travel with him. No matter what came to pass she knew she would not forget him or their time together. A couple of months later she was pleased to find she was with child to him. She decided to join a family of druids and with them she healed people and animals never turning any way. In time she gave birth to a bonny boy who she named Juno little realising that he was the future high priest of all druids Juniper came to see him and again laid with her without result. Her only child would be Juno as he grew she taught him all she knew until at 15 she sent him with great sadness to Juniper who would finish of his training. Once parted from him she threw herself into helping those who needed her help and growing frail she quietly passed away before Juniper and Juno could reach her greatly sadden by her loss they buried her in the woods overlooking Stonehenge where Juniper had met her.
y
tender petsmart impact, where world wide web populated
with sacrificial pacification sans deity
via oblation, immolation, flagellation appeasing Dominatrix
borrow wing, vis a vis amalgamated viz Roman sol invictus
wrought fiery brimstone tempting those who dared
assert contrary fledgling jambalaya outlook
provoking regally supreme sacerdotal wiseman
punishing opposing incorporating
novel modus operandi explaining sacrilegious worship
such heretics pitched headlong
into fiendish frothing furnace
forcing obeisance toward primitive popular
identified, honored, glorified father figure
expressing devotion re:
decking the halls of the mountain king,
whence boughs of Juniper sprigs contriving wreaths
sanctifying twisted brambles via sprinkling angel dust
(actually cremated remains of malefactors
stripped of habiliments) during bleak winter
unwittingly interweaving nascent (futuristic)
formally codified bona fied religions
unknowingly, tacitly, silently rendering
quintessential premises obliging
layperson to foreswear locally rooted secular treatises
trounced, trumpeted unction voided
wishy washy antithetical blind faith coalescing edicts
over course of time became established
Greco-Roman imposed group think
disallowing cynics,
diametrically emerging fanatics, skeptics
who (if he/she did not recant
recalcitrant recommended recourse
faced torture amidst throng of madding crowd
as entertainment and forewarning gall
asper those who held steadfast dissimilar views
taught since birth, when citizenry reared
as just a little drummer boy/ girl pipsqueak
taught to stay the course (sans straight and true)
bound without freedom to express contrary aspects
of ways and whyfores, which accepted traditions
controlled each green day
and silent night, wherefore unimaginable ogres
lined straying hip cats
eventually ensnared within warpath,
whence law of the land lend scimitar to smite
any mortal man, woman or child with flaming torches
licking the heretical body electric,
while defiant individuals
left to burn into decimated
charcoal blackened, ashen corpse.
Juniper blended with the richness of Mohagany
as the well soaped Maidens accompliced
in the impness of Dawn.
A strong coffee poulticed a hint of Cinnamon,
and Clove prepared expectations.
The morning fog was lifting her skirt
in a slow tease, as both veil and curtain.
A suspenseful reveal that caromed
with the steam of my cup.
A main event about to be undressed,
and redressed with the Maidens.
I johned in, in that usual unpure-,pure- folly.
Knew it was welcomed guest,
practically an extorter, to creep in at any hour,
in to steal a gloat in unwarded cameo.
This inadvertently but unthwarted- headtable-
"honored guest", that shared more and more
in my ritual of daydreams, that intertwined
also into some of my more run of the milled needs.
Melding more and more,
as a dysfunctional elixir of happenstance,
and of either need or greed.
I found them also, the "Barista Girls",
like a gaggle of something curious- in cackle,-
buying entrance with teased looks mocking,-
my inflammation of inflection,-
with their vixened vexation,
-but also in snare; flared to wonder their wander
into mine stare.
One of a thawing malaise,- of curiousity shops
and shared spaces.
Places:
Coffee bean aroma and aproned bread
trinkets- become a "suitable"
showcase.
I realized its humorous "colorance"
in poetic knowledge's abionce.
"Man shall not live by bread alone."
But the scone was a genius match.
Something to chew on.
A fitting poetry, (binding really)
by the Master Story Setter- that forbode,-
the Protaganist himself and also let me know
that, 'he is aware of my dirty thoughts.':
To prop my stage and to reflect as a mirror does.
To hold in check the soul.
How the pillows fluffed.
My thoughts blanketed me,
"tucked me to the chin" with their silkys
and fuzzy warmths.
Feathers that cascade in a rockabye lull-fashion.
My system of down.
Downy.
Snuggle.
Oh women will be my downfall.
Vipers that push their venom.
"I think God created coffee and tea
with Poet in mind."
I rebuked my thoughtful sins to Him
and left a healthy tip for them.
“instrumentalising mind, I rested thought
employing it only when needed
shifting to heart, I became self-taught
gentling touch, voice of conscience heeded” ~ Unseeking Seeker
When thoughts purge in restlessness,
we pause the frequency of the mind,
allowing the rhapsodies
of the rosemary heart
to compose lyrics of
life in sync with sandalwood serenity…
I am a gossamer ribbon,
drifting across
caliginous cloudscapes,
like a delicate trace
of greying gloaming,
listening to the eerie requiems
ricocheting through the horizon.
But am I to follow the hypnotic lies,
perpetually prompting
my thoughts to ink
crimson confetti of confusion?
For the heart is the window
to the crown chakra,
awaiting the alignment of seven stars,
where the mind remains a mystery,
unreliable and capricious,
like the wind carrying
the sound of raging rain tonight.
O celestial maestro
of the cosmos and beyond,
let fears dissolve into ambient waves,
rippling with rejuvenating radiance,
reflecting seraphic light
from the crooning currents beneath~
tempestuous tides,
while I unchain the confined
chambers of my persona,
to unravel the alchemist within,
that knows not the
dying colors of dusk and dawn,
and reveals emerald auroras
in hibiscus harmony,
amidst the moonless
serenades of the sky~
in sync with my stained consciousness.
So let the dancing dreams
and the divine spirit
manifest through bleeding intuition,
as I open my arms to the sun
singing within his euphoric siesta,
there lakes of lotus ebb and flow in
ethereal themes,
transforming jinxed juniper lilies
into joyous jasmines,
and my voice shall mirror
pristine peonies,
scented with mystical musk,
where the fickleness of existence
is liquidated with lavender scriptures,
for my heart is the
empyrean haven for northern gems,
guiding the glass kayak of survival,
refusing darkness to mask
the kundalini mantras within
the alluring aura of life,
rehearsing self-fulfilling prophecies,
to illuminate silhouettes of
the galaxies in crystalline clarity.
"Colorful language is the best way to recreate the incident as it happened and to picture it for the audience". Dale Carnegie
______________________________________________________________
O, colors, enthrall us through their splendor
Infuse the mundane world with vivid shades
Dazzle with hues and send a melody so tender,
No harp plays a role in tunes or serenades.
Lush velvet stains lips and hands with blackberry
Ripe grapes drenched in bright, blithesome lands
A colorful kaleidoscope lies in a flower vase—airy,
A sparkle that imbues the shadows and expands.
Olive and amber—ripening akin to wheat,
Grating upon nerves, a symphony so sweet
I love color, from flaming reds to vivid greens.
Royals flaunt purple, a sight that sheens.
Flaming reds and vivid greens—I adore
Royal flaunting purples, I simply can't ignore.
If I were the color blue, I would sing a halcyon song.
Leave you frantic—recalling your youth for days long.
I hold my breath as sapphire skies spread.
Vast quietude, serene—filling my head
Rainbows, prisms—tinsel glitter galore,
A wheat harvest of yellow—a sight to adore
Ripples and runs—floats and flies,
Subtle shades and sheen, colors that mesmerize.
Crimson and azure—glowing with grace,
The purity of white is a vague oasis to embrace.
A streak of gray brought heaven to earth
Crackled turquoise, vivid glow of calm sea worth,
As a slow hawk stoops—prey in the deep,
The sunflower droops; a lazy wave creeps.
The wind sleeps—swirling in dazzling links,
And loops, creating a symphony that never sinks
The crickets chime their pauseless rhyme,
And the colors run—toward the sun climb.
Before the wind feet, in the wheat, they stun.
The green of elms—a sage discourse troll,
Hemlock green, oaks, and juniper trees spun,
A color symphony, one actor—this world scrolls,
A never-ending show of beauty and poetry.
Crafting a lasting metaphor of beat and symmetry
A magnificent show of shadows and brightness.
O, hues, how you seduce my air with lightness.