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.
Glinting-proud yachts, sun-boasting, deeply invested
in their mirrored moorings.
Floating checkers on a liquid board,
slowmotion pirouette on bank-heavy anchor chains,
holding position in wind, wave and water.
Furled masts attend like stiff antennas,
line-brushing the breeze in signal-search of clicked,
clipped messages from unsighted seas.
Barnacles bunch and tap out morse code
on the hard hidden hulls, sending syphered
wishes of 'Bon Voyage!' out into the tentacled currents.
A steam-forgotten train, olde power mist-swept out to sea,
once rattle-puffed and rolled over incoming waves.
The frail-fallen bridge, prostrate as the vertebral bones
of a fossilized dinosaurus, its ribcage of pylons exposed
in rusted spines, grips with a last grasp, down
into the sucking mudbrown silt. Only its bent,
buckled back heaves above in the tide flow.
Fingerling fish, flash and race to beat the washaway waters,
shoals break the miniscus in silver slivered eruptions,
shattering the glass-still surface into a thousand shimmering
shards of luminescent liquid to splinter-splash, then sink
to the swaying, submarine sedge.
Come down to the lagoon with me,
and we'll whisper our names into calling-cone conches.
Hold my hand, let's cross this bridge over the waves.
Our spirit-sails filled to billowing,
sail with me from the lagoon-safe harbour,
out into the blue deep where salty, scimitar
gulls will screech warnings.
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
My descent was gradual, sedge meadows with wondrous pink orchid variations visited by never identified damselflies, my head starting to swim; erasing time, giving way to a dark canopied wetland of black spruce, difficult to traverse, sloping deer trails the safest path to take, avoiding quick-mud holes. These trails are popular in the forest, as signs reveal, death struggle remains, the saddest.
This is the area I saw the hairless half ape/half wolf like creature block my trail, stopping to look at me deeply, then vanishing like a ghost, without even a ruffle of plants.
Sometimes a plant, flower or insect calls to me "come closer" so I approach with caution; my hand carved heavy oak staff probing for danger, strong enough to ward off bears and badgers, snakes & insect saboteurs, intent on my demise.
With compass and topo I chart my course, knowing each time I visit these wild places in the forest off Lake Superior, it could be my last, so I bring back natural, wondrous souvenirs that fill my day-dreams, content once more, cleansed of my sins by Her Majesty, the forests off Gitchi Gumee.
Authors note...never venture into these wild places alone, always be prepared with survival equipment in your pack.
Refuge
Whither the river flows and finds its way
Life surges and ebbs by hunter and prey,
There, beside wooded paths alert anglers fish
By slow waters where cool willows sway.
Painted boats glide on the bright wavelet’s crest,
Below shaded bridges, fish feed or rest
And gather in close clumps of reed or sedge,
A Grey Heron sits upon its open nest.
Passing tall grassed meadows where cattle graze,
Under oaks, horses retreat from heat filled haze
Nervous rabbits run to bank side burrows
And field mice escape the lone raptor’s gaze,
The silent hunter waits and finds his mark.
Inside a moored boat’s cabin, a dog’s bark
As fox and cubs sleep in their hidden lair,
While others find refuge in the watchful dark.
Barry Stebbings
July 2023
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.
A lanterne is a five line quintain verse shaped like a Japanese lantern with a syllabic pattern of one, two, three, four, one.Each line able to stand on its own, and the poem may or may not have a title which sometimes forms an integral part as a 6th line
#1
Black,
yellow,
brown, or white--
partitions skin
deep.
#2 WATER MEADOWS
rush
and sedge
hide shady
ponds--teeming
with
life
#3
by
the stream
so shallow,
weeps a willow
tree.
#4 DAYSTAR
dawn
tinges
the bleak sky--
hope enlightens
all
#5
a
sea mist
rolls inshore---
daydreams deluge
me
#6 BIRDSONG
lost
in the
soft mist of
a September
dawn
#7 EQUINOX
Rain
droped leaves,
spotted gold--
scatter in the
wind
#8 MONA LISA
Her
gaze and
smile followed
his every
step
#9
bells
tolling
on the wind--
old memories
die
#10
a
dry rock--
out of the
white water of
life
#11 HIGH RISE
Thin
spires
in the breeze---
tasselled teasels
touch
Lanterne #12
Faint
May breeze----
in the trees
ripples shaded
green
Skulking between the thinning clumps
Of tattered sedge
A balding coot despondently calls,
Scratching Blackbirds scutter deeply
Into a Hawthorn hedge;
Whilst, creeping stealthily,
Gathering darkness onwardly crawls.
The blackened Moorhen washes the clinging
Soot from his feathered form,
Rising above the mirrored pond in awkward
flight.
Gathering clouds mumble softly of an
Impending storm,
When, silently menacing, inwards marches
The approaching night.
Listening intently, between murmurs upon
A breeze,
I check my step and briefly pause -
To catch a low sigh whispered from among
The sullen trees...
A last desperate plead of their lost cause.
For now billowing cumulonimbus sags
And begs to stall,
As, slowly homeward bound, I gather
About me to hastily make;
Where, circling high in rushing element,
The ragged Buzzard begins to fall...
Upon Heavens gathered Furies -
That so conspire to thunderously break!
Coastline of the peat swamp is obscuring.
In addition, the shadow of a lone angler.
Water lilies turn purple as the sun is setting.
Avoid being stung by sedge and strangler.
I'm up to my knees in murky shallow.
In addition, the shadow of a lone angler.
Trout floated through echoes as a sharp arrow.
A crisp unsettle overlaid by blurring sunshine.
I'm up to my knees in murky, shallow.
Midnight sheep are hollering in the whine.
With the lowing of a cow from a distance.
A crisp unsettle overlaid by blurring sunshine.
Being on the verge of calamity is intense.
The space among us and our world.
With the lowing of a cow from a distance.
The delay has harmed our minuscule pride.
Coastline of the peat swamp is obscuring.
The space among us and our world.
Water lilies turn purple as the sun is setting.
Written: October 17, 2021
Father, I'd hear your whispered voice, "Let's go fishing?"
Away, we'd go, always on sunny pleasant days.
Together, you and I, hiked down through
Heavy tall green sedge and rapid flapping of wings.
Early morning towards the pl-ashy
Riverbank, on a cloud of silence. There was no
Such thing as time, when waiting for fish to take the bait.
Dad, the sun rose and went down
As you gave us strength. You were and are the
Yoke of love that always keeps us together.
5/12/2021
Poetry Contest: A TRIBUTE TO FATHERS
Sponsored by: L MILTON HANKINS
Aye, this pavement now pale and old
A flower once sprung of glistening gold
When melilot narrates me of time long before
These crevices on floor hides these unheed lore
But no vibrant sings over here merely a withered sedge
Once the hour I remember this our lovely
pledge
Beguiling is the pendant of love I carry so far
More ado of me to love you surpass the clouds and star
I listened on the voided diminuendo of song
And purple lethe came; told me I was never wrong
Told me this love is so beautifully painful
And a lovers be sometimes wonderfully disdainful
Aye, this Sycamore now languid and cold
A bough once sprung of glistening gold