Long Maple Poems
Long Maple Poems. Below are the most popular long Maple by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Maple poems by poem length and keyword.
My Kentucky in Fall
Peaceful country roads winding through meadows and hills,
and golden rays kiss purple asters, tall ironweed and abundant goldenrod.
Gorgeous colors are greeting me despite the warning that drought
would hold them back this year.
Glowing yellows, warm reds and burning orange leaves are clinging
to the heavy branches, limbs swaying in the autumn breeze.
Fallen leaves dance to the music of the currents,
poison ivy vines wrap the stately maple in crimson.
Damp snapping turtles sun themselves on a rock in the creek,
while further up a blue heron is standing silently, watching the
slow flowing water, until he is ready to strike.
Our majestic Ohio river reflects the cloudless, azure sky
while bordered by densely covered cliffs that are
decked in their autumn finest.
Profusely blooming red cardinal vines cling to the rocky ledges
are kissed by happily buzzing bees and bouncing butterflies.
Pumpkins, ghosts and witches decorate porches and front doors,
gray barns are brimming with hay, tobacco and corn,
contently harboring their bounty.
Acorns, black walnuts and hickory nuts are plentiful, yet squirrels
do not seem in a hurry to bring in their winter supply.
Smiling, waving hikers are climbing the autumn scented hills
to Tioga Falls, and Virginia Creeper vines show pleasing colors
along the old Rail Road Bridge.
On the side of the road the lush cedars have developed
their silver-blue berries,
and wild rose bushes are displaying their red rose hips.
Autumn has come to my Kentucky.
Noelle Cottage straddles ledges of grey,
Extending into waters of Casio Bay,
Along Small Point’s shoreline of Atlantic Ocean,
Observing forest, sky, and ocean devotion.
Feathered fliers: Osprey, Sea Gull, and Eagle,
Their diet all favorites and everything legal,
Overhead wing-singing their various tunes,
Hunt above beaches near sandy, beige dunes.
Noelle Cottage awaits - at the end of Shore Road
Where sea-salty breezes generally flow,
Among acres of Fir, Birch, Maple, and Pine,
Awakening fond memories obscure in time.
Life by the sea is always a challenge.
Happiness there’s a joyous challenge to manage.
As summer ends, fall's panoply unfolds
first frost uncovers autumn’s brilliant tone
of red, yellow, orange and antique gold.
Bright butterflies flit among flowers bold
asters white and yellow by nature sown
as summer ends, fall's panoply unfolds.
From host branches, leaves break at petiole
descending earthward by fickle wind thrown
to wrap the earth in red, yellow and gold.
With days growing short and nights growing cold
bare limbs of aspen and maple bemoan
summer’s end as fall's panoply unfolds.
Gaunt trees line the west ridge as north wind takes hold
sunset silhouettes each standing alone
neath red, yellow, orange and antique gold.
A murder of black crows gathers to scold
grey clouds looming, too soon snow will enthrone
as autumn ends, winter’s beauty unfolds
white snow and shadow conceal autumn’s gold.
10/7/2019
I sat on my driveway in the rain today,
wondering how I must look to the neighbors.
I'm allergic to grass and don't like dirt,
but I felt a yearning to commune
with nature. The driveway (common concrete)
seemed close enough to rock,
which is just pre-dirt, besides
it was getting drenched in the shower,
just like me.
In other words, I talked myself into this being
the same thing as a trail walk, or river swim,
or climbing like ivy up a groaning tree
because I'm here.
And without me, it makes no sound.
Someone else will have to speak
for those trees though—
right now it's just me and soaked cement
trying not to alarm AJ across the street,
peeking through hand-sewn curtains.
His wife doesn’t work.
He’s an arborist—
which I genuinely just remembered—
so maybe he can chat with the maple
in Renee’s yard next door,
beg it to reconsider its shedding ritual
until my husband fixes the leaf blower.
It may not matter.
The rain’s really coming down now—
there's lightning, which means thunder—
maybe even hail. This whole show
could likely to strip the old gal down
to her rough, brown skeleton.
I stay as long as I can, trying to discern
what I have in common with all of it.
Poof issued from invisible magic dragon,
which nobody dead sea
immediately disrupting electricity
whereat mice elf (Stuart Little), i.e. me,
no particular rhyme nor reason
called Mickey, plus the missus Minnie
found ourselves literally
in the dark, no pleasant thrill
as well adjacent community
named Maple Hill
approximately few hundred
residents in toto ill
nope, no light to busy
sanity claws writing with quill
thus no alternative,
but forced to remain stock still,
the provolone ideal time
to look for cheeses crust
or crumbs, cuz thankfully tenant
occupying unit b44 never dust
nor keep their apartment
spic and span trust
ting bulge of debris under the rug
not seen by jail warden this August
two thousand nineteen,
cuz she would most likely bust
with anger, which would
bubble forth analogous just
like when volcanoes blow
off their high top
most lava lee phenomenon
unforgettable did stop
people dead in their tracks
saw Pompeii pop
yule lore for tourists to shop
for timeless dude dads till they drop
similar to yours truly at my behest
recently awoken from rest
earlier could chest
barely breathe suffocating blessed
not only mister
and missus expressed
above regarding power outage no jest
gasping for air oppressed
without electricity - society at mercy
to guarantee life hums along
without power to the people,
I forthrightly attest
idyllic climate controlled nest
comes to screeching halt
creature comfort amenities rest
at peace as if lightly
sucked by black hole
this primate unaccustomed to test
his brittle mettle,
and loathed experiment
conducted by fates forced to sweat
approximately twelve long hours est
tab bull lest
stark admittance, I would be carrion
eh, a mere snack
if archaeopteryx made guest
appearance, a quest
going awry see Jurassic Park
object lesson aye did wrest
maybe genetic tinkering,
yes think GMO
microchipped *****sapiens
created with ablest
means to weather severing
how 21st century civilization did invest
ingenious dependence banked upon,
where electrons get fervently pressed.
Anytime I want to…
So you think all I can write is romantic poetry,
well that is not the case I can assure you
I can write poetry on many topics and themes
any time I want to…
Sure, I am in love with the most amazing
woman in the world, with hypnotic maple eyes
and a smile that could light up the
dark side of the moon…
And yes, I find beauty in everything I see,
from an enchanting honeysuckle sunrise
to a euphoric star draped twilight sky
on a warm spring evening as fireflies
linger in the cool breeze and we sit together
mesmerized by our desires…
And of course I enjoy a whispering ocean,
melodic waves of turquoise and aquamarine
gently lapping upon a satin shore
in harmony with crystal azure skies
as my love and I walk along
leaving footprint mosaics in the sand…
But that doesn’t mean all I can write
is romantic poetry…I can write about other things
anytime I want to…
and I will…pretty soon…maybe tomorrow,
well tomorrows not a good day for me, maybe the next,
but you’ll see…
:)
"The velvet veins running through my deep-coloured wings sing blues, remembering the non-existent maple memories, lighting up my heart's frosty rays."
~ Deepali Singhvi
The soft folds of velvet enclose
her slim body as she ambles
across the woods in tearful throes;
Wrapped in velvet, on she rambles
in whispers of ache that perturb
her feelings that are in shambles;
Her saunter's like a healing herb
that relieves her from her sorrow,
Here, there's no one else to disturb;
She follows a path that's narrow,
sits beside a well-worn headstone,
cries as if there is no morrow;
Slowly, she sighs sitting alone,
Unlocks a velvet box and takes
a black velvet rose to bemoan;
Places it there, her body shakes
with deep anguish for whom she lost,
"I'll love you always", her voice breaks;
Walking back, she's like velvet frost,
Wishing their love were not star-crossed.
A knife lie in her bed, her hand rests atop the hilt.
The satin maple bed frame lie bare beneath her fingers,
And the aliferous knife lie skin warm in the cradle of her hand.
A pile of gossamer shavings grow on her sheets,
Surrounded by splinters near her pillow-
concealed by soft down.
She awaits the conception of a fish,
Sat in the pillar of her crib.
She pictures she’s an old wiseman, with an Appalachian drawl
Widdleing on his back porch- rocking on a pine chair
The bones of her fish turn crimson-
A red herring
The laceration in her thumb lolls a bright serum
She was stopped by worry, but then she recalled-
That’s what the knife was for anyways
Today, after a month in North Carolina…we became aware
to our mutual satisfaction that Fall is in the air.
The mornings have been chilly…and the leaves have begun to fall
as the trees of summer begin to change their colors before their final curtain call.
The leaves do not change colors or fall simultaneously…
I’m sure nature has her reasons…
for allowing those of us who are watching…
to enjoy…the changing of the seasons.
Ash, Birch, Black Walnut, poplar and maple trees
Are where the first leaves tend to fall from…
They act as natures messengers…reminding us
of the beauty yet to come.
Nature helps these leaves who patiently await her signal in the trees
by allowing them to ride atop and end of summer breeze.
And they happily depart the trees…knowing they've been assigned
to announce that Fall is on her way…with winter close behind.
Yesterday an excited maple leaf jumped out of her tree
and, after floating on the breeze, landed next to me.
As I saw that little maple leaf…happily lying there
I thanked her for reminding me that Fall is in the air…
And thanked nature for taking the time…
to think of me for a moment…however brief
by air mailing my reminder
in the form of a maple leaf
Buzzfeeding sustenance (eating/drinking) beyond point of satiation
Bloated swollen cheeks
analogous to first Chinese Brother,
who swallowed the sea,
now non sequitur
off beaten track i.e.
less apropos re: guarding
par for race course as if
ace driver won Grand Prix
latter referencing international
horse race for three-year-olds,
founded in eighteen sixty three
931 + 932 = above number
satisfying ghost of Fibonacci.
Original idea predicated whereby
all Americans heartily feast
(stuff themselves to the gills)
salivating cornucopia dime
a dozen lonely people
bemoaning holiday re:
traditional Thanksgiving time,
celebrating joie de vivre chime
wine glasses clink full house,
where ushers pantomime
proffer gobbledygook and
motion rapidly hungry guests
toward smorgasboard prime
tables for gluttonous
to commit punishing crime.
Tentative arrangement made,
whereby oldest sister, and husband,
(who live a jaunt away from Maple Shade
more precisely Woodbury New Jersey)
would swing by Schwenksville
comprising one car motorcade,
thence to shuttle 31.5 miles southeast
our mutual (of Omaha) friend,
I met when counted orbitz
during late 30/early thirtieth decade.
Offer to drive out of their way
presented, since our 2009
Hyundai Sonata did betray
accountability, dependability...
reliability oy vey
woolworth no more than
couple/few Benjamins
yet real challenge constitutes
yours truly, née
theme underlying mein
kampf pennilessness pray
I did (despite being orthodox
atheist) to no avail
relying upon social security
regarding disability (mine) Mayday
forthrightly, feebly, faintly...
calling before men
donned with white coats
came to take me away
to the happy home with trees
and flowers and chirping birds
and basket weavers who sit,
smile, twiddle their thumbs and toes.
Communication break down
compromised eating humble pie
regarding this ole man
upended above mentioned plan
whereby attending
hosted by: Gail la Dorfman
afforded rubber express
thus with Forrest Gump I ran
all the way across
Ocean thru to Japan.