Long Pecan tree Poems
Long Pecan tree Poems. Below are the most popular long Pecan tree by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pecan tree poems by poem length and keyword.
This free totin barn shootin lowse
Once hunted for a mean growse
I wanted a bigun for my spowse
I ain't talkin bout no widdle mouse
On a sultri afternoon besides my howse
I went huntin for some tasty jowls
I took some urin from one of my spodded cows
Rubbed it on my tanned raw hide a horny critter to rowse
About ten for noon I did a rabid coon espowse
It came at me with bared teeth and angry growlse
It jumpt down my ass soked pants my honor to jowse
We run up a pecan tree; it was like two squiruls in a nuthowse
I shucked him from my trowsers and flew down that tree strate to
the outhowse
He follered close on my heels scurryin thru the door like a drunkin
bowse
Afearin for my life I pulled down my pants and with my canin that
vermun did dowse
A contry tale to raddle your nurves
The prior property owners planted the most beautiful flowers.
We took possession last December, and this is our first spring.
For the first time, I noticed a lovely flower a few days ago
and last Sunday afternoon, pointed it out to our neighbor.
Upon seeing that flower, I sensed an air of stealth and utter
secrecy, and as I stared at her, being arrested and captured
by her beauty, I was mesmerized by her stunning presence.
Why, it was one of the most beautiful maroon blossoms that I
had ever seen. She is a Super Lily, and I have named her Miss
Maroon. She and other lilies are growing at the foot of the
second of four Crepe Myrtles, trees of which are causing me
doubts about their flowering displays this year. Anyway,
I must say that Miss Maroon pleases me well this year.
The young pecan tree which grows about 15 feet away appears
to have been shocked by a late freeze and is struggling
for survival and might be calling it quits for this year.
Miss Maroon's other neighbors are a scattering of red roses,
marigolds, and a cactus plant whose beautiful yellow coloring
I am greatly anticipating. But for now, it's all about Miss Maroon.
052523PS
My Darling Mother,
How lovely you were as a new bride
Your green eyes glowed with pride
as you stood with Dad at your side
You shared my love for writing poetry
so as I sit in the shade of your pecan tree,
I write this as though you were next to me
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Seventeen and a city girl who married a farmer
without knowing one thing about being a wife.
I remember you telling me Dad was a charmer
and together you shared a hard but happy life.
I always admired the many things you did for me.
You listened intently when I had reasons to worry.
I know there were moments when we didn't agree,
but things worked out with a happy end to our story.
Your love for Dad and the three children you beared
was the kind of love every child needs so very much.
You made a home for us in which we always shared
your comforting affection; gentleness of your touch.
Mom, I hope you knew how much I looked up to you
and appreciated your help when my babies were born.
You had boundless patience showing me what to do
and never once corrected me in a voice full of scorn.
I'm truly sorry if I ever made you sad or caused your tears.
As a mother I know now what I must have put you through.
I fully understand your anxiety and your unnerving fears,
so with all my heart I thank you, Mom, just for being you.
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
April 22nd, 2016 Francine's "Mom" Contest
We stand stately and beautifully along the
front lawn of a gentle lady who loves flowers.
Our biggest dream is that we will grow and be like her.
She's kind and giving, and her life greets you with a smile.
JERRY used to lean against the front roof of her house, and
Miss gentle lady thought to cut him down, but I begged her to
spare my brother, and she consented for now. The other three of
us are growing at an angle across her lawn. TERRY is the oldest
and largest of the four of us, and his arms are beginning to
lean over the road. MISS PARKER didn't like it. So, she decided
to prune or cut back all of us, but especially JERRY and TERRY.
In a few short weeks, we, including LARRY, our youngest brother,
will all be in bloom and shall paint up her lawn and property with
colors of delight to MISS PARKER's delight. CRAPE MERTLES are we,
as happy as can be. There is a young pecan tree growing slowly along
the driveway and a few beautiful rose bushes scattered across the lawn.
Having been here for some time, we love it here in spite of the heavy
and continuous rains, storms, and whispering winds. We would agree
that both cactus and apple blossoms are great to behold, but if I, BARRY,
might say so myself, 'when the grass is ever so green, and the Spring air
is clean as clean can be, 'There's none like us'.
022123PSCtest, In Bloom. Joseph May
I'm thinking about rhyme and meter
but also my kidneys and my liver.
The nation-state and the failed state
and whether killers should be executed
or forgiven. Meditate on this: Thy
will be done. Do what has to be done
don't ask why. Clean the dishes and the house.
Will I be left to my own resources
or will all be given? Nevermind
what you can't imagine. Living's
life's priority. Friends are merely friendly,
they're in the majority. Loneliness
is the default position. Rain happens.
We supply the reasons.
How do people process their lives without art?
By caring not.
Ignore
yr autobiography.
In olden days, if you couldn't stand to pee
the family buried you under the pecan tree.
In the spring of '23, at first, all looked pretty and free.
The first year in our new home, we anticipated a beautiful canopy
as the trees began to bear buds and beautiful blossoms. But then
came a late freeze and changed the flow of green. The results were
huge, and the flowers and trees probably were a bit confused.
No different from you or myself, they retreated to return later.
Indeed, they did return but came with lots of limbs and leaves.
So, this summer, the peaches and plums were nonexistent.
All of mankind has learned to never take it personally,
because whether it's bad weather or a dreaded disease,
life and Mother Nature will often refuse to please.
Our Crape Myrtles were not nearly as lovely as last year.
Yet, they are doing their best with never a tear.
And the peach and plum trees have not a single fruit.
The young pecan tree died but fortunately, not from the root.
Two out of three mulberry bushes somehow managed and made it.
Although young, they were fruitful and in them, there was 'no quit'.
They endured both the challenges and the climate change; and they
wisely built defenses, making adjustments and rearrangements.
090523PS
MY OLD NEIGHBORHOOD
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
crackerbox houses
a house a plumber
could afford,
barely.
I recall the pecan tree,
remembering
how I spent many afternoons
writing stories and poems under its branches.
the street was once charged with life~
kids walking to and from school,
playing kick-the-can, hide ‘n seek,
hopscotch, and red rover.
streetlights told us
it was time to go home.
but the years brought change
what was once full of life
is now silent.
Everyone has moved on.
But in my mind’s eye, I can still see
the cracks in the sidewalk,
the rustling of the pecan tree,
the setting sun while drinking iced tea on the front porch,
and smelling dinner cooking as it wafted through the open windows.
*Note: This poem was originally published at Poetry Soup, June 2025, and Lucky Jefferson Literary Magazine, July 2025.
MORE THAN A SOFT TOY
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Raggedy Ann with her patchwork heart,
more than soft cotton, calico, embroidery, and yarn,
a doll created with Mother's love,
stitched together with gentle hands.
Her gray button eyes understood my childhood world,
her red yarn hair meticulously combed,
her smile eternally stoic,
her face bore the promise of a forever friend.
She walked with me to school,
first day of school jitters, she sat, a steadfast sentinel,
on the corner of my desk,
absorbing my fear, radiating calm.
Hospital smells, a white, sterile fear~
Raggedy's soft body, a warmth against my chest,
before the cold steel, after the raw ache,
her doe-like, button eyes, unwavering.
We shared tiny cups of cocoa ‘neath the pecan tree,
her embroidered face never betraying
the weight of my childhood dreams,
my childhood fears.
My first editor, she listened tirelessly
to the endless stories I told her~
the one’s created from my fertile imagination,
without judgment, without end.
Now, she sits in Mother’s curio cabinet,
still a steadfast, quiet comfort,
her threads and stitches connecting me
to the fertile memory-filled fields of yesterday.
Her button eyes, dark pools reflecting
sepia-toned summers,
reliving ghosts of laughter,
rides on unicorns, and make-believe.
Her worn calico dress, faded and undamaged,
is stained with childhood tears,
a fabric chronicle of scraped knees,
childhood regrets, and silent fears.
She inspires me now,
grounding me in innocence,
showing that imagination
endures into adulthood.
Raggedy Ann, more than a soft toy~
she is the echo of my Mother's love,
a tangible piece of home,
carried in my arms, worn soft with time.
Clouds have amassed dampness fills the spring air
Two flocks of Blackbirds meet in sky unite
Put on a ballet for me, then begin to pair
In the tallest Pecan Tree clustered no fight
When in flight, they looked like schools of small fish
Surfing the sky, those Blackbirds seem so small
To God do we seem like grasshoppers whishing
No! He knows each of us by name one and all
Even before we're knitted together
He loved us so much that he gives free will
We can chose to love him and others
Or we can deny and His Presence kill
Spring such a lovely time_birds meet, mate, love
People a lovely creation, free will dove___
The wind billows out from the seat of his britches
With determined blue eyes, skinned knuckles and knees
he climbs up the rails nailed from old cedar pieces
to the uppermost yoke of an old pecan tree
He is Captain on board, in pretend salty breezes
From his perch in the bird's nest, the world's in his view
A small town boy, who has never seen oceans
sails a fantasy vessel, where his wishes come true
The tall cornstalks stand duty, in the weedy-field waters
He breaks off a branch and a sword fight ensues..
He says "Tally Ho...Land Ahoy!!" to his crew
Dogs are barking below. He must shout out a warning
"There are sharks all around, so his shipmates must heed!"
He is Master Commander, the ruler of nations
He dreams of adventure from his loft in the tree
As he watches the clouds sail across a blue sea
Till his mother calls him in, for his suppertime leave
~
Well, little boys grow, and a childhood will fade
The leaf of the pecan, no longer holds shade
Now a stump of the tree, is all that is left
Yet the memory still thrives, so deep in his breast
When the weight of the world comes tumbling down
He visits this place with the stump in the ground
The rings wrap around him, to take him aboard
To a ship from his childhood, a place he adored
Tonight he will sleep in a bed of contentment
From his bunk he will dream he is sailing the seas
Tomorrow he'll climb up the steps to his vessel
Tomorrow he'll be where the eagles fly free....
...........................................................................................................