Long Sedge Poems
Long Sedge Poems. Below are the most popular long Sedge by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sedge poems by poem length and keyword.
In moonlit night , in silver shine
From heavens I in this world peep
In my soul silver intervine
With body on the earth it leap
No chart in hands, no light Divine
That showed me way in shadows deep
For silver shelters there I pine
All of them in my heart I keep
I kept on walking on the ways
And shine on them the silver moon
In meads in dales in silver seas
All silver plains all silver trees
I saw thee in the silent lane
As if thou sang in silver pain
In silver Hamlet, silver hut
With silver lamps and window shut
There sang with thee the woodland lark
The Silver ledge and silver lake
And silver shadow in thy wake
Thy silver camp in silver heath
With silver daisies underneath
They sang a silent silver song
And sang with them the nature all
The silver grass and silver dew
As if they were a part of you
A silver was in soul of thine
A silver was in heart of you
In silver magic of The lord
The leafy ships afloat in yard
In silver night by silver pine
My soul with nature intervine
I roamed in silver land of Lord
And silver ocean there me called
I walked on silver sandy land
With Moon and ocean hand in hand
I saw the silver boats by shores
Leading to heavens silver doors
The schools of silver fish that peep
From waters of the silver deep
The sheet of silver sedge by edge
And silver birds on silver ledge
As bathed in silver scent they all
The lamps of meads, the lamps of temps
And dipped in silver sheen they all
In heart of mine was silver show
Betwixt my eyes was silver wall
Silver silver was the Mead
And silver was the waterfall
To see the charms of silver world
My silver soul wherest enthrall
In eyes there shone a silver gaze
More shining than the moonish rays
I loved with pheasants silver moon
From silver skies, a silver boon
With books I went on silver mount
My days and silver nights I count
By silver fields on silver path
On leaves with quills I often wrought
Oh silver shadows come for once
Wherest thou live wherest thou go
O leap, o jump, O meet me once
In Nature's heart, in silver show
As if in far off days of yore
In silver nights in silver temp
In nights of peace in nights of war
Devotee pray in nature's camp
With silver lamps on silver ways
Till Day of judgement soul will pray
There’s an old river course with beginning and end,
now the river runs straight without this river bend,
where the water is still and the reeds do grow strong.
New life has taken over in a billabong.
The mat rush is spreading replacing the sedge,
and old fallen gum trees lean in from the edge
creating a haven in the shelter below
for smelt or gudgeon, and the common minnow.
There’s a ring on the water, so danger is nigh,
and life is now over for one caddis fly.
Dragonflies hover on their predator flight,
so mosquito and midges best keep out of sight.
There is many a song around a billabong
to break up the still with an assembly throng
from birds of the forest, and wading birds too,
so the billabong offer is there to pursue...
... for blue heron and egret, coot and the teal,
and for the banded rail that the bulrush conceal.
In the billabong shadowed by gum and ti-tree,
bellbirds are tinkling; wattlebirds disagree.
An oft-diving grebe keeps on searching for food
for the striped downy chicks of its latest brood,
and a hunting kingfisher waits keen for its prey
from a twig of a gum tree it frequents all day.
There is many a scent around a billabong,
filling the air with the perfume quite strong,
from black wattle and mint bush, or mistletoe
cascading from gum trees where only they grow.
Painted lady butterfly flit upon flowers,
and blue banded bees keep on working for hours
on lilies and orchids, heath, sweet appleberry
and clusters of flowers on a native cherry.
Ribbon weed, nardoo spread out in the shallow,
with buttercup, duckweed; an introduced mallow,
struggling for survival near the water line,
aiding coral pea that does lightly entwine.
The banks of a billabong are dangerous too
with predator snakes not so often in view,
but they are aware, that the growling grass frog
will climb from the water onto an old log.
But tigers and copperhead, red-bellied black
often lay in the sun on an overgrown track,
where the wombat or wallaby travel along
to graze on native grasses near the billabong.
So life still carries on around the billabong
where water looks stagnant, a bond is still strong
with a river now rushing it’s way to the sea,
past the billabong living, where the course used to be.
The universal worm has got some competition now,
since ‘Sandy’ took me out to Bateson’s dam.
This don’t include the ‘whitchys’ we get in a broken bough,
nor ‘scrubbies’ on the hooks we have to cram
to hide the silver hook
that a ‘blackie’ sometimes took,
where a ‘mudeye’ just might have a better look.
We have to have a bucket for these water baits we scoop,
and a net of fly-wire mesh across the face
that’s been tied on with fishing line, around a metal hoop,
keeping flatness of the fly-wire in its place;
so when the net is lifted
and the water’s all been sifted,
we grab our bait, and with a turn the net is shifted.
We must don a pair of waders when we wander past the edge,
for our gumboots do not have the needed height.
And as we scoop the bottom in amongst bulrush and sedge,
at first we see the shrimp put into flight;
but gambesia and ‘toe-biters’
rarely show that they are fighters,
and multitudes of water beetles, are un-needed ‘blighters’.
Now the water lily pads that extend across the pond,
offer some protection from a diving bird.
But the tangled stem’s and roots, are no barrier to squand
a chance to net amongst the water stirred.
And little pygmy perch,
arch their pretty backs and lurch.
Quickly released for they’re not in our search.
And backwater from the overflow is holding treasure too,
as it wraps the base of tussock, weed and reed.
‘Sandy’ said “In here there is yabby”, and we net up quite a few -
the ultimate of lure when a blackfish wants to feed.
So yabbies highly rate,
as the premier blackfish bait,
almost if to say; write a ‘blackie’ on my slate!
And with numbers in the bucket quite enough to see a day
of fishing in the Bunyip, Lang Lang or Minniburn,
I go looking for the wildlife that we’ve kept at bay,
when scooping water’s edge became our turn.
There’s teal, black duck and swan;
pygmy geese keep feeding on,
but shy mountain ducks have took to wing and gone.
So Bateson’s dam’s a haven from the damming of a creek,
where expanding water draws a teeming crowd.
When fishermen like us retain the chance to reach our peak,
netting better baits where there’s better baits endowed;
if we take a little care,
and we take what’s only fair;
the better baits we seek will still be there.
A warm sultry summers night, a silver crystal formed in
the corner of an eye. Trickled and rolled a gentle cheek,
fell to earth where all was dry. Whence it touched the
ground did speak, an Orchid bloomed of vibrant hues,
reds and whites, the palest blues. The Tear catcher dabbed
the bluest eye, a smile pursued a gentle sigh. The catcher
kissed is favourite friend, his purses full to the night did
blend..
Eerk, eerk the frog he croaked, help us Flora the pool is
choked, eerk, eerk and off he hopped, Flora followed
her duties swapped. By the pool, eyes in moonbeams
danced, their love of Flora is well romanced. Flora, Flora
help us please, the pool is choked by a blue disease. The
fish gasped and gulped for air, wildfowl preened their
feathers fair, otters, voles in a sticky mass, frogs and
toads could not pass. The sedge, the reed, heads did fall,
marigolds and lily's, threatened by this seedy sprawl.
With her hands she ceased the breeze, asked for quiet
from the trees. Beckoned all the spiders to the waters
edge, north to south along the sedge. Said to the spiders
cross your legs, spin, spin with all your might, those
silver threads strong and tight. To the Water Boatmen
she said pull, pull, until your net is full. Water Beatles
heaved and toiled, with insect life the water broiled.
Dragonflies with smaller nets collected dregs, Toads
and Frogs flipped with longer legs. The Newts and
Fowl came to assist, where once was dark the moon
it kissed. Across the pool the Voles and Otters pulled
away, most did work but some did play. To the sticky
web the Algae clings, behind a bright blue water sings.
The silver net was dragged well clear, all had helped
from far and near.
Flora asked the breeze to bring the clouds, left a message
for the sun to hide his head, but to keep her friends warm
in the shade. For without the rays the Algae would die,
and all would be peace and beauty before the eye. Dawn
was close, time for Flora to pat, stroke and kiss her pals
goodbye. She must return to the safety of the glade and
to the shade of the magic willow, her bed of moss and
Lavender for a pillow.
Form:
Coiled up for winter slumber it had rested the budding pledge
Soil still moist the promise is waiting for blossoms and sedge
To give host to migrating birds returning from busy regeneration
A miracle planted by knowing creation and heartwarming sensation
Swallows circle over hedges filled with daffodils and berry shoots
Below the wild brush with spring in its steps an abundance of roots
Sketch channels of promise faith and nature from deep undercover
As if a cave dwelling hermit is reunited once more with his lover
The vernal seasons blossoms on polychrome canvas and realign
Meaning in the eye of change with perpetual motion designed
To pause for thought reflection silent prayer and humble appraisal
Meanwhile spiders wed on their cobwebs spun from witch hazel
An owl proposes to her mate and sends a call into rustling breeze
Which embraces in gentle caress the unperturbed colony of bees
‘Honey’ they shout ‘its time to leave the hive once more for food’
Jelly Royal for breakfast and wild herbs to improve on our mood
Meanwhile gelatinous creatures awaken on shore lines and beaches
Unaware that we are hankering for freshness and gathering peaches
The serpent claims it is about apples and dates for paradise earth
Gaia watches over an abundance of kindness and reincarnated birth
Soon it will be summer and fields will harvest unless the grim reapers
Call to join crosses and tombstones overgrowing with climbing creepers
The equinox reminds us that we are impermanent and life is quite finite
And that with star dust and good fortune the moment beats hindsight
Past future and present are really synonymous expressions of being
Blindfolds and double vision mistake the moment for the illusion of seeing
Here and now the circle of life spins our short insignificant vital span
Inflated by greed and possessions when in truth there is a different plan
02nd May 2020
Written for contest Spring Rhyme Poetry
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
A round bright moon glowed low in the night sky throwing silver pennies onto rippling water,
A nightingale sang a beautiful haunting tune accompanied by a sedge warbler a nighttime bird,
I listened to a song thrush singing from the upper branches of a haggard, horny old oak tree,
Earlier before the light had nearly gone a redbreast bathed in the lake always his last chore.
I sat outside on this warm summer night the twilight showed me shadows of monsters and beasts,
An old lime tree like a thief in the night creeping up on me as the sun sank and the moon rose,
Noises from the forest sounded like madmen that had escaped running in chains I looked around,
Twigs, dry branches snapped then a hurried rustle, was the forest haunted like the locals say.
Popping open a bottle of ginger beer sounded as loud as a hiss of a sidewinder rattlesnake,
Crunching a biscuit was as loud a huge avalanche of snow sliding fast down a huge mountainside,
Eating my peanuts I thought an army of soldiers were marching at the back of my wooden cabin,
I tried to think what creeps about in the dead of night making these noises, I wasn't scared.
A small owl seldom hunts by day except in the spring when he becomes restless and excited,
Little owls normally crepuscular and nocturnal rather than diurnal may sit on telegraph poles,
The creatures of the dark creep out from their hiding places when night time covers the land,
And a badger sits in a silent motionless vigil hiding having dug out an old wasp or bees nest.
Sitting outside my cabin on the lake on a moonlit night you are last person left on this earth,
There is rustling in the hedges and trees it is relaxing yet startling you are being watched,
A gander of geese fly silhouetted past the huge bright moon on their way to warmer countries,
My bottle of ginger beer nearly gone the same way as the biscuits I yawn and make my way to bed.
O thou , the sacred hymns of leaves!
Who play their silent tunes on earth°
Those deepest wounds that time can't heal
They may be healed by thy grey breathe
O Thou the charmer! I Thee saith
Thou second name of vale of death
The boats of leaves in lakes that float
They singth in autumn winds with glee
O lady Fall in Thy wood boat!
The hues of dawn and dusk board free
Peasants in their fields are working
In Thy richly harvest season
Birds in shades and scents are lurking
Coldish nip of thine is reason
Cuckoo sings in blooms of poppies
Magic magic in his lyres
O Thou mighty Autumn season
Singing birds are Thy live wires
Leafless trees as guard of Eden
Standing by the townlet channel
Lakes with reddish sedge are laden
See in awe them, ocean fanal
Leaves are red as beacons fire
All they fly on marsh and mire
Autumn sweet, Thy breath enkindle!
Lamps of shrines and scent between them
Planes of sky on earth they dwindle
In the fleets of leaves, Thou see them
Kiss they earth and fell they wailing
Then they fail as I'm failing!
In the yards and green they flying
Kiss They clouds and fell then dying
Woodland lass by hut is sobbing
While my Ruth is picking cotton
Shadows all come veiled and leaden
With Thy puffs and gusts O Autumn!
Sheaves of grain with eyes laden
On the golden grass they lying
Robins singing, birds are chirping
Winds in Heath and green are whistling
In The temp of nature goddess
Sat and heave all kneeling Autumn
Autumn queen with wind Thou singth
Yarns of olden days on lyre?
In the world such hues thou bringth
Which set hearts of all on fire
Autumn queen in breathe of thine
Blooms are withering bird are whistling
Soul of earth mingling with Mine
Walks on ways as I'm walking
O ancient forlorn lonesome heath!
O thou that saddest jewel sells!
O Hardy's favorite rustic god !
In heart of world Thy phantom dwells
I can see in thine ancient heart
Where Tess her Sorrow for thee brought
O tell me Nature's lofty Dell
Had thou for him a cradle brought
I pined to see one in this world
The luckiest one the Earth begot
But what I saw in glooms of woods
The tearful page of book of lot
I fear thee ancient eye of Earth
I fear the hearts that with thee burn
I fear the fate of beauteous lass!
I fear who on time not return
O that the story of her love
Thy hand could write on Grecian urn
Thy herbs and shrubs, O nature's pub
With trees all sing a hymn Divine
All stars and moon on sky that dwell
They in thy lakes and rivulets shine
Here sings the cuckoo in such Glee
As he hath drunk the Bacchus wine
Oh Williams comrade, Coleridge friend,!
To dwell in thy heart I'll pine
All wished to breath in thy fresh breeze
That filled with scent of Eden blooms
They whisper by the banks of lake
They dance in greeny grassy glooms
Thy withering sedge, O knight at arms
And Hamlet's lass that picks the flowers
I see in thy heart luckless babe
The Theban king till final hours
O heath, Thou hand of callous fate
O vale of death o teary tale
I see the angels on thy sky
I see the people who their wail
O nature's eye, Thou nature's myth
A thousand stories thou unfold
Of saints Of hermits who love Him
And sing His hymns in heat, in cold
For birds that chirp, For wind that sings
Thou art a sacred temp of God
Thou dipped in magic hues of dusk
Thou beauteous art of Eden's Lord
Sabahat Batool
Daybreak 2
Frank Halliwell
At first light every morning
And before dusk every night,
All looking for a handout,
And quite sure they'll find a bite.
Of suet and some birdseed
And some honeyed water too,
And the feast is laid on
Every day at Uncle Frankie's zoo!
Resplendent in their rainbow coats
The Lorikeets appear!
The royalty of this feathered world
To none do they show fear!
Their subjects sit and grumble
Round the fence and in the trees,
And wait noisily for their turn,
And for the crowd to ease.
My cheeky black-backed Magpie
Arrives with her demand!
Self-service isn't good enough,
She must be fed by hand!
So Pussy's dish gets raided
To get a scrap of meat
So cheeky and her bigger mate
Can have a bite to eat!
Two slits of jet in yellow orbs,
A furry ginger coat,
A furtive movement in the grass
Might very well denote..
The cat is out there watching
And would like to try her luck...
A malevelent island in a sea
Of feeding ducks!
Down by the dam, a Spoonbill
Seeks his breakfast round the edge,
Sifting small crustacions
Through the bullrush and the sedge.
And sleek in brown and white
Atop a single rock nearby,
A cormorant preens her feathers
With her wings hung out to dry.
And up behind the aloe patch
With stiff and stately strut
A Royal Ibis pokes and prods
Hunting for god knows what?
I wonder what the day will bring?
It will be no surprise
If it's like all the others here...
Perfect, with sunny skies!
***
I woke up Saturday joyful at my body's triumph
over virus, breathing again without pain and enjoying
winter and the cold that keeps us sane and sober.
But by Sunday my mortality had returned.
If I pass away now, how to assess my days.
Is balancing income and expenditure reports enough?
Our marriage and our piece of land. Dependent
on economy. For food delivery and machine repair.
In my youth, I imagined crossing mountains
to the sea, living off the land. Enduring weather patiently.
It's impossible except three days or three weeks,
with a load of supermarket food on your back.
So I accept home gratefully. And a niche in society.
We could explore these hollows and hills on foot
but my wife is weak and I am lazy. We use the library
to travel inner space. We found this place.
Next spring, a garden. Dig depleted soil behind
garage and fertilize it from our compost pile.
Learn the names and ways of cultivars, their relations
to wild plants and the edge. Finally know the fern and sedge.
Lazy one, life is short. You have never fought, to yourself
you remain unknown. You go the way of an unknown
soldier. Unable to assess the purpose of the battle.
Nameless, hungry, same as the neighbor's cow.
Be happy, slap happy. Within your generation, surrounded
by history. Seeking mastery through practice.
Rewarded with the sunrise, sunset. Yet to have delivered
on the promise expected by the parents of the baby.