Long Sapling Poems
Long Sapling Poems. Below are the most popular long Sapling by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sapling poems by poem length and keyword.
The wheel of time churns the disarray dust,
settling on the unstable shelf of the disordered life.
In the maiming moments of painful perturbation,
truth crumbles in the cauldron of disorientation chaos.
Under the scorching blaze of the sun of craving,
the desiccated life suffering parched and forsaken,
searches for a wayside thicket of sanguinity
to provide the satisfying shade of hope.
The sapling of deep desire of irresistible longing,
I nurture in the receptive core of my heart,
blossoms the flower of passionate hedonism,
luring me with the illusion of impulsive urge.
Chasing the mirage on dwindling dunes of despair
with hope lost deluded of taking life to the oasis,
as the hurting storm of disenchantment blows,
I enter the realm of awareness to undo craving.
In the disorderly squall of divesting dismay,
my mind is disheveled to a dishabille state,
strips off the flimsy attachment of desire,
psychic cascade of indifference carries it away.
My detached mind develops the skill to disconnect,
cultivates the aspirant ability to evade attachment.
Repulsion frees me from the bond of attraction,
and I feel aversion instill in me a state of apathy.
_______________
May 2, 2023
Title chosen : A State Of Apathy
Contest : Pick-A-Title, Vol. 36
Sponsored by : Edward Ibeh
Dear Maple Tree
Dear maple tree, a sapling fifty years ago,
you, one of three, stood guardian in summer's glow
to shelter our front yard with limbs and shady leaves,
while we matured, you did so too, to serve and please.
But now, dear maple tree...a warrior, you stand;
with solid trunk sliced deep by nature's wrath unplanned,
you braved those forceful winds our fierce tornado brought.
Against that monster, your deep roots so strongly fought.
These days new strengthened beauty you present to me...
your trunk is slashed and splintered, yet so stealthily,
you thrive with that and missing limbs to carry on,
with fewer branches, blooming still upon our lawn.
Dear battered warrior, so tender that first spring;
years later, cradling kids and grandkids on your swing.
You served us well back then, and now I bow to you...
your new artistic presence warms my heart anew.
Sandra M. Haight
~2nd Place~
Contest: That Was Then, This Is Now
Sponsor: Silent One
Judged: 01/27/2019
A very strong tornado devastated our area, May 15, 2018
Drawn for the tender touch of life
Soothing sapphire sky sweeps away
Its amber gray clouds at bay.
A clear gate way
For the rising dawn stay;
Yellow torch glow starts to stray
At a distance array.
Drawn for the tender touch of life
The beast lay
Wait on barren, arduous earth,
Against a eucalyptus sapling,
From the world.
Life embraced the wind's bind
Spun, swirl, and sits down.
Drawn for the tender touch of life
Lies on the fate
Of the beast golden mane.
The beast roars
And bends its head
In the empty silence soft repose.
Drawn for the tender touch of life
3/25/2020
The sun rose in my sky with promise of color,
on the serene sea I had sailed my boat
to reach far shore
of the aimed dreams.
In rootless sapling the buds of hope haven’t flowered,
they’ve all died in void depth of depression.
Storm of anguish seizes the mariner,
the time is running out fast, the sun will set soon.
When at the rough sea my boat wrecks,
helpless, I ask my god, “Why me”?
The chosen one
gets peace in pain.
June 27, 2018
Contest : Fragmented Verse
Sponsored by : Broken Wings-Dear Heart
(Syllable count checked on howmanysyllables.com)
As I traversed the wasteland,
my footsteps crushed the desiccated ground,
dry and brittle soil turned to dust,
swirled on the wings of the autumn wind.
Some blew away from me,
in my weathered urn, some I collected,
and spread on the skeletal roots
of the rose sapling, I reared with care.
The contours of the curling leaves,
tracing the trying tracks of time,
turned to tortuous lane of fading memory.
The dust storm slashing the listless life,
rushed from the twilight horizon.
The surge swept the falling leaves away,
and as they rustled I heard them sigh…
‘hold us before we disappear’.
Through the last dust drifting nowhere,
the residual rays of the setting sun filtered,
soaked the shards of shattered dreams,
morphed into dislodged leaves,
flying away from the sapling of rose.
They left the buds bare in defoliated frame,
I tried to keep as long as I could
in the niche of my yearning.
Through the golden beams of the setting sun,
I ran on the trail of the floating leaves,
caught them and held them close to my heart,
until they turned into seeds of hope,
slipped through my fatigued fingers,
fell on the soil where the sapling of rose stood.
In spring the leaves returned to the buds,
that blossomed for me as the rose of rhapsody.
________________
February 12, 2023
For A Brian Strand Choice No. 1185 Contest
A serpentine row of pillars of stone
Winding through farms, woods and much weeded track
Like suture marks upon earth's bordered skin,
And white-washed, each proclaiming its number in black.
Stones planted to divide lands, not unite,
Divide lives well as raising red ripples,
Dissect what not long ere was seamless one,
When culture and a common tongue once fused peoples.
Then as fate fated, a seed from a bird-
Dropping under a pillar once sprouted,
And a sprawling Peepal Tree spread its wings,
Perhaps, hoping to unite what was divided.
A bird from which land had sauntered therein?
Harvested by whom, whose seeds did it eat?
Birds belong to no nations, nor they care,
With unique disdain do they borders tend to beat.
Nourished by common soil the tree had grown,
Mocking at stone pillars, gathered had dust—
Obliterating man-made marks on them,
Per chance carping that the borders drawn were unjust.
No soldier watching borders had the heart
To root the sapling out, nor grown-up hunk,
None thought of replacing back the pillar,
Many chose to scrawl their stray thoughts on its vast trunk.
The Peepal Tree, a mark of mundane life,
As scriptures say, should one day severed be,
But should this stone-pillar be sacrificed? --
The tree that stood teaching tenets of unity.
It still stands cooling borders on each side,
And tempers too that in restless mind dwell,
Trees tie together what borders divide,
The mother earth as well wants that peace should prevail.
Alas, men failed to do what a bird did,
Winged feathers for no man-made borders care,
The bird, a true angel of peace indeed,
Descended to show, hearts when heal enough, they share.
__________________________
Happenings | 04.02.2011 | narrative, tree, peace, borders
Note: This piece takes off from a true happening on Indo-Pak border at Suchetgarh. In an allegoric reference, Peepal Tree represents a mundane world of desires as referred to by Bhagavad-Gita # 15.3). The quatrains are set in iambic pentameter, the fourth line being a hexameter.
Many springs came as the time’s wheel rolled by,
our hearts entwined we walked the garden trail.
Ardent fervor on cloud in blue, set sail,
not long, for the rain storm dissolved the sky.
My touch slid far in stream flow from your eye,
but I surely knew I’d return, won’t fail
to be with you in garden by the vale,
in the wrap of your arms again I’d lie.
You grow sapling that sprouts in spring splendor,
verdance of leaves takes care of buds of rose.
They wait, unfurl in dawn tinged by sunburst,
adorn you with gleaming glow of ardor.
You'll then find me smiling if you look close,
I’ll keep my vow because I’ll bloom, the first.
Written and Entered : January 9, 2020
Contest : Open Me First
Judged : January 14, 2020
Syllable count : 10 each line
Parents, the keepers of the door to this amazing universe..
To them I am a fragile sapling, staked for its own good. Protected from sweet kisses, funny and salty, somber and delicious.
Parents, those figures of authority - from whom our true lives are kept.
Protect me from scars no deeper than a blush, from rustles on a soft battlefield, caressed curves, tousled hair and appetitive breaths of each others air.
Parents, who guard against loves bombardment, the persistent courtship. Giving ground in slow but immense movement, like those of continental plates.
Parents, whose power will fade with no more cause than time, gentle as mist, as powerful as a waterfall.
The Peepal timidly peeped
From amid those tiny cracked bricks
Seeking the warm sunlight
It spread its arms wide
The rain water tenderly seeped
Nurturing this sapling that bravely sticks
Its head out into the foreign light
Against the crumbling wall’s side
The sapling grew diligently forward
From a young to a mature tree
A haven for chattering mynahs and singing koels
That feasted on its berries
These airy messengers when lifted upwards
Carrying its seeds and flying free
Until perching here or there they roll
The sleeping seeds into nurseries
The mighty Peepal now strong and tall
Viewed the green kingdom of trees
The wind carried its proud call
To spread the magic of walking trees
In those distant days of precious youth
When I roamed the woodlands and valleys
And trod the soft grasslands light of foot over
The cowslip verges my heart singing with the
Skylark soaring under wisps of watchful clouds
That witnessed my fitful searches for the love
Invading my boyhood mind heady and strong
As the red-rum honeysuckle sipping my senses.
I saw you there before I met you as in spirit you
Came to me morphed from all that was natural
In every shrub and plant and tree I held you in my
Mind as sacred treasure, the Holy Grail for a Knight
Templar, where we lay in cosy nooks beside the
Silent stickleback stream our skin touching soft as a
Dandelion our hearts quivering as an Aspen sapling
Your beautiful self surreal and serene as any dream.
Through golden fern meadows and purple foxglove
Gates we ran dizzy down the wood sorrel slopes
Roly-poly over wild garlic and daisy florets whispering
Forget-me-not promises rare as ghost orchids cowling
In the scrubby tufts and guarded by the dog violets we
Tickled each others’ chins with buttercups and there
I garlanded you my princess with peony sweet as scent
And thanked the Lord for your heavenly-blue love sent.