Long Redwoods Poems
Long Redwoods Poems. Below are the most popular long Redwoods by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Redwoods poems by poem length and keyword.
Our dad drives with the recliner down like a waterbed as uncapped bottles of water gushes down. My older sister putting on her third face now, none of it hides her stuck-out tongue at me. My older brother still thinks I'm invisible. Not mom, she only sees me, "Did you break this, or, did you spill this?"
It's one of those 'Blackouts', it seem to be a bit more as I get older. I am getting up a bit bolder, they say that it is a good thing munchkin getting a agronot badge so I can put on my spacesuit. Soon I'll be able to shoot for one of those starry twinkly pads way up there twinkling away.
They'll be getting me ready for those receiving pads up there, but here on Earth we just have the launching pads just around the bend. Still blackout, and pretty much Indian country here they think this whole place is scared land. It's not scared land, it's sacred land. Well it's scary now with it been blackout all this way.
We can see the tall behemoths standing in the shadows pointy noses all seeing circularity's silhouettes destination bound for that moon, or Kalamazoo. Tough being four, Kalamazoo? Yeah, that's Indian for where all the injured animals crawl to die when the Indians go during the hunt.
GOOD, I will take the spirits of the animals with me, like troopers, and I will take them to the happy hunting grounds in the sky.
Nature hedges its bets with candles and suns.
Some lives flash briefly in fecund swarms.
Fireflies, mice, lice and mayflies—
scatter their bright fireworks shoals of living sparks
with a fanfare of hope into the wilderness.
Others linger slowly through centuries:
whales, tortoises, redwoods, sloths, and—us—
cherishing and nurturing a precious handful of progeny.
Evolution never chose one way to survive and bargain with time.
Scatter a hundred thousand seeds—or guard a precious handful of few?
It's either careful maintenance, patiently sustained and nurtured—
Or throwaway spam replacements with no warranties.
Yet nothing blooms forever here—not even the daisies.
Even the white stars in the sky above age to orange giants.
Collapse to dull red dwarfs,
then fade further, and implode into dark black holes,
where even time itself forgets what day it is.
So make hay while the sun shines.
Count not the days you're left—
count what makes days glow, and linger long in memory.
One day I started climbing;
without question I climbed.
Until finally I had reached the peak of Mt. Everest.
I wanted to beat my breastbone
yell like Tarzan King of the Apes.
But...
I saw a tree.
IT!
was the highest peak.
I climbed.
“Ta da"!
But...
there was an escarpment,
higher.
I climbed.
Once again I...
But...
Stairs,
stairs at the end of the land.
I climbed
Reached the top of the stairs.
But...
I saw a huge bird.
“I can go higher” I told myself.
I reached up with my arms,
miraculously the bird accepted my hands.
We reached the space beyond Earth's pull;
there my magical friend released me.
I kept floating up
until I reached a tunnel in space,
a hole on an incline that led up.
I climbed!
For an eternity,
maybe longer.
The higher I got...
nothing.
An enormous amount of nothing.
I was going nowhere and I was doing it in record time.
Then...
Then I stopped.
I mean I hit the brakes,
reflected on my journey.
The wildlife?
Had I done damage?
The escarpment?
What was the vegetation,
were there flowers?
I should of gone barefoot felt the land under my feet;
smelled the coffee.
Were those really stairs I climbed?
Was it friends and associates I was stepping on?
I opened my eyes.
The climb was like trying to walk to the end of the horizon.
All leading to more vast “I don’t know what” but definitely up.
“No!” I said aloud.
“So what!” I whispered.
So...
I slid down the best slide you ever saw.
I felt like a child again,
I could see, smell, feel and hear,
I could taste the sweetness of freedom in the air.
I love sweets.
So...
Now, back to my land
I plant myself firmly.
I am one with all,
a Giant Redwood surrounded by other Redwoods.
I am at peace.
Here, at the bottom of everything is my highest point.
I bask in the heat of the sun.
Feed from the richness of the land.
Drink the cold water gifted to me by the skies above.
What an incredible sense of strength I feel
comfortable in my own bark.
Just happy to be rooted.
Now...
I am the smallest tree
But...
growing.
Fulfilled,
satisfied just “to be”!
09/20/2014
THEATRE OF THE ABSURD
Puppets, all parts, perpetually working.
Tense strings, plucked, with novice fingers.
Ruby sawdust sparkles with the warm sun.
Puppets on strings, such silly things!
A play set nearby, a seesaw, those twins –
Hansel and Gretel, balancing between life and death.
The wretched sound of falling trees, pulled
from resistant roots - ground shakes violently.
The buzzing of saws, like bees in a honey hive.
Splinters of puppet bone, praying for relief.
The lies that Pinocchio told - stubs compared to this.
The darkening of the witch’s wood, with terrible treats.
Wooden toes, stumble and tiptoe, over windswept limbs,
sending shivers through their gnawing cold bones,
as twigs fly and snap, popping of puppet props.
Leading the way, Ali Baba whispers “open sesame” -
They hide in a craven cave, whilst the forest implodes.
Perpetual motion, like watches, ticking of time-bombs.
Pinocchio cracks jokes, like he’s done this all before.
Treasures glisten in candlelight, “what have we done…”
Whispers of a forest saved, puppets clamorous in mine -
Their eyes like multicolored jewels, hideous in the gloom.
Redwoods run with stilt-like legs, banging at their door -
Begging for one last kindness, followed by sudden silence.
They arise at dawn, the parade of puppets on strings.
Silly things, characters performed by naïve children –
playing at war. They hear a cackle, as she, lures them inside.
Guard down, until the urchins ears bleed, with screams of kindling.
2/6/2017
I have soared above the Redwoods in their youth
Touched tips of frosted frigid icy peaks
Lifted weary aching migratory wings
Swept through the oily tint of present day
Enraged the sea, drove ships upon the rocks
Becalmed the mariners upon dead waves
Caressed the vibrant hope of snowbound buds
Blew north an icy chill that still resides
Crept, in fog-like cape, through darkened streets
Swallowing the darkness of the night
Lifted into sunshine the billowing of clouds
Mussed the unkempt locks of playful youth
I have cooled the tears of red-hot passions
And rocked the empty cradles of your dreams
The horror repeats in my mind like an annoying verse
Of all the remembering I get to rehearse
I hear your voice but I can’t see your face
I see your outline but I can’t see your race
I see your hazel eyes through the treetops
I hear your footsteps through the forest rocks
The faeries they flicker on and off
The gnomes they wander through the corn crops
The giants they battle over towards east
I snuggle deeper within my fleece
My breath withers in shapes before my eyes
I feel the bitterly coldness through my thighs
I see the wildlife race to their homes
The corn rattles from all the gnomes
The whistling of dragons way up high
To my surprise, I let out a great sigh
Your voice is heard once the same
I stare up through the redwoods in the warm rain
I sense the eyes following my movement
I hear the dragons from Windrose where they were sent
The demons scream within the castle on a hill
I know all they want is to just kill
A faerie lands on my right shoulder
I see yellow eyes from behind a boulder
The faerie tells me that your waiting up ahead
She tells me that I can’t go to bed
She’s only two inches at best
I’m so tired but I can’t rest
Crickets chirp through the Weeping Willows
I walk past a few white tigers sleeping on their pillows
One’s eyes are closed the other looks up
He parts his mouth and says, “look out pup,”
I nod my head to let him know I heard
But little by little my vision becomes blurred
A snake drops from the branches way up high
He lands on my arm and says, “why do you sigh?”
I look at him not knowing what to say
I aim at the mountain slowly as night becomes day
He curls up perched against my arm
Off in the distance I hear an alarm
His red slit eyes open in shock
I stumble through an eyeball rock
I whisper to it, “oh pardon me,”
It groans in awe as it tries to see
Ahead by snap rods I see you standing
The snake slithers off with spectacular landing
I run into your arms as you stand there
You kiss me gently and run your hands through my hair
“I love you, baby,” is all you say
Welcome to my Fantasy Forest--welcome to another bright day!
Old growth forests are a sight to behold
Humans wiping them out makes me angry
Politicos who support this can go to Hell
Angel Oaks,giant cedars and Redwoods
These are some of my favoured trees, I say
General Sherman -a most ancient tree
Angel Oak boughs are coiled ,I love this tree
All the ancient trees ;divine to behold
Lay my ashes neath an Oak tree I say
Clear cut forrests they made me quite angry
Giant cedars ,grand -behold the Redwoods
Those who wreck ancient forests go to Hell
Ancient forests wrecked I'm angry as Hell
The huge red oak is one hell of a tree
Other beatific trees are the Redwoods
Angrboda ‘s tree -lovely to behold
Cutting these trees down-I'm bloody angry
Politicos should pay a price: I say
Old growth forests are a biome, I say
Those who destroy them are stupid as Hell
Lay waist to old growth forests?-I'm angry
I sat still under a huge cedar tree
Hike thru these forests a sight to behold
I wonder what critters live in Redwoods
I wish I can visit the grand Redwoods
I'm wheelchair bound do not know what to say
Walked thru a small old growth woods nice to behold
The woods were denuded of old trees,oh Hell
Old growth Cedars are one hell of a tree
Most of the old growth gone makes me angry
Logging roads in BC grave ,I’m angry
Love to muse beneath a pair of Redwoods
What type of vibe will I get from that tree?
Protest the harm of old growth woods; I say
If you don’t help out ,I'm angry as Hell
Clear cut woods from a plane -shock to behold
Envoi:
Burn old growth woods angry I say
Stop logging Redwoods ,no,oh Hell
An Angel oak tree I want to behold
i wish for serpentine waters
i wish for stormy skies
i wish for a playful river
i wish for you and i
i wish for stupendous sunlight
i wish for inkblot shadows
i wish for tremendous colors
hues that makes us cry
i wish to appear invisible beneath redwoods
i wish to vanish below their verdant foliage
and hear the sparrows populate the forest with song
as we release a mutual sigh
i wish to feel the wind touch my lips
and the moon quake with weakened pulse
as the flaming campfire of dusk dies out
and our spirits brave goodbye
6/13/2017
scared, alone
broke down on dark highway
creepy willows, hover over me
waiting for a sign of headlights
but to no avail-none
i debate to walk
slowly creeping through woods
fog thicker than lard
water gushing in open-toed shoes
till i see a dim light
wooded cabin tucked away
shadowed by redwoods
i knock-no answer
i enter cautiously
sit by fireplace as i
remove my wet shoes
there's a towel hung over rocking chair
as if waiting for methen it hits me
i've been here before
locked in a closet
by some crazed maniac
i slowly step to the closet door
turn the knob
crouched in corner
scared, alone
looking into my eyes
another young soul
taken before her time
i retrace my steps
and remember when i was 16
driving down this dark highway
when my car broke down
thinking someone would help
waking to being tied and tortured
till i no longer breathed
scared and alone
karen croft
I followed one day a spring breeze at play.
It seemed not to know where to go.
And aimlessly, I - like a butterfly -
meandered with it to and fro.
Among bright blue bells, it tired a spell.
Recovering, it picked up speed.
Alongside a rill, I ran with a thrill
just to know where the breeze might lead.
My heart filled with song as I danced along,
careening through meadows of green.
And then the breeze dove into a large grove,
the loveliest I’d ever seen.
No longer a breeze, it whipped around trees.
It whistled while beckoning me,
and as it passed through where tall redwoods grew,
I was following, wild and free.
In that beautiful place, it changed its pace
and got stronger, for the breeze goes
where sturdy trees thrive. I felt so alive!
I have been to where the wind blows.