Long Stumps Poems
Long Stumps Poems. Below are the most popular long Stumps by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stumps poems by poem length and keyword.
Scavenging squirrels search for acorns, scratching old stumps from trees.
Scampering up my sugar maple, they steal my bird feeder seeds.
Sleepy salamanders wake from their slumber to search on slippery stones for a spider lunch and a caterpillar filled home.
Pigeons flock together to peacefully perch on an church.
Puddles are for parched puppies who suffer a little thirst.
Ponds become a drink for blooming blossoming trees.
Patiently I’m waiting to plant petunia and poppy seeds
Rubbery rain boots donate dry feet.
Robin fledglings begin to eat.
Rain and sun meet as one,
making a ribbon of lovely hues,
arched green, yellow, and radiant blues.
Ribbit then repeat, frogs wake up to a
repetitive beat.
Imagine a katydid, butterfly or flea,
drinking sun warmed cinnamon tea !
If inchworms can measure a dragonfly’s wings,
imagine a butterfly that could really sing!
Indigo Buntings dipped in blue, grasshoppers and cicadas are their favorite food.
Nuthatch, a feathered acrobat that can climb upside down, and circle a tree around and around. On peanuts and cherries they love to dine, with conifers and prickly pines.
Nature welcomes spring with lovely bird songs, while tall grass hides a new spotted fawn.
Geese with long black necks eat gracefully from the ground, where berries and spring grass is now easily found. Larger than a duck but smaller than a swan.
Soon goslings will appear when wintertime is gone, singing proud, petite songs.
Alice did you find what you're looking for
opening closed doors
Chasing white rabbits evermore
falling through the rabbit hole
Awaken and are you whole
Afraid the world will end
Is it fades into oblivion
with it's big Cheshire cat grin
Alice, did you win?
Alice did you win!
Rejecting white knights that trump
refusing logic that only stumps
politics of love leave you alone
Never will you reside in a happy home
Childless but free
Nasty Queen of Hearts all you need
off with their heads of all who disagree
Love is a sickness you never need
Alice sweet Alice so afraid
the world will end in disarray
Don't eat meat or drive a car
a polar bear will love you from afar
Alice sweet Alice everything you need
the Left for you will make it free
And that's the climate you crave
a government mommy from cradle to grave
Socialism is your new faith
Fox news is all you hate
your views you can't debate
Down the rabbit hole with no escape
The white rabbit's watch is broke
he holds his tears till he choked
The world is doom in a decade to bake
For all, you believe is news that's fake
Sweet Alice never smiles
Sweet Alice fears farting cows
Her lamps have no oil for the hour
Sweet Alice lives to be dour
What to photograph first?
My yard is a haven for every color of flower.
There are mushrooms, and worn out stumps, and renegade violets.
There is Queen Anne’s lace, and prairie golden rod, and honeysuckle.
There are tiny red berries, and there is moss of the greenest green.
The sky is filled with lavender, and smoky gray, and the softest blues.
There are cardinals, and robins, and butterflies, and bumble bees, and wasps.
There are knotholes, and gnarled branches, a tree that crackles with crows congregating to go south.
There are wood nymphs, and elves, and faeries, and rainbow orbs, not seen by the naked eye.
I will start with the orbs.
Careless whispers from sordid lips
Echo through the wooded landscape of hearts.
Destructive wants and needless needs,
Carried on the remnants of rust and bone,
Discarded amongst the fallen bridges,
Where once that precious garden grew—
Abundant petals with morning dew…
Oh how those poetic colours swirled
In the abstract minds of troubled youth,
With Silver tongue of rivers deep
And how that made the willows weep.
They wept in mournful sorrow first
Then blew light-heartedly in swift gay breeze,
Swaying merrily to gardener’s tune,
Reciting songs of lovers’ moon.
Drooping soon, one by one,
Neglect: naïve or playboy rule?
No willow’s death carved into stone
Sighs forgotten—another clone.
But each one knew they weren’t alone
With all decaying days that passed.
And thoughts of how the last was strewn:
Loved too quick, deceased by noon!
Empty melodies confined to ash
No garden path to lead them up,
The fickle gardener’s longing tales:
Seeking roses, endless fails.
Bitter stumps, now burnt and bare,
Fruitless end to nature’s womb,
Apocalyptic trails of dirt
Sporadic care and endless hurt.
Acidic rain to wash away
Polluted minds and drunken hearts,
A world once loved now fades to grey
Pastel night now charcoal day.
Neverland: a silly notion
Truth keeps blooms of love in motion,
A life of fantasy fulfilled
Though one of lies is one half lived.
Midnight Aurora
On the 16th of September 2022 Mahsa Amini 22 was arrested by the so called morality police in Iran, because some of her hair was showing from beneath her head scarf
3 days later she died in an Iranian hospital, after been beaten over the head with batons, whilst in morality police custody
A morality police spokesman denied responsibility, but said they must enforce this religious law because if women do not dress properly, then men could get provoked and harm them,
Women in Iran, and all over the world are now protesting against her murder, some hacking off their own hair, and refusing to wear head scarves.
An estimated 185 people women included, have died in Iran since the protests began after Mahsa’s death.
morality police
to overestimate her guilt ~ is to underestimate their filth
burnt her wings she can’t fly away ~ now her stumps make angels in the clay
By
David Kavanagh
you appeared to me
in the middle of the woods
i was like a child in the wilderness
as with david I began kneeling
yellow flowers had begun
blooming abruptly before me
they seemed to be surrounded us
wooden stumps gathered
like thee apostles i shivered
while the scent of pink roses were abundant
and presently clear with a distant aroma
as I tremmored the bright light
seemed to be covering your image
you reached out your hands to me
as the trees also began kneeling
weeping profoundly your voice whispered
do not be afraid for he is with you
the ground beneath my feet began opening
descending into the earth as thunder
raced across sunlight as night scurried under day
the mountains and hills began to sway
crumbling into thee ocean and the awaiting seas
as the rivers were drawn closely together forming
one stream joining throughout the world connecting
only in Jordan as large stones were turned into soft gravel
leading a path to only Jesus as the lord cried out
there should be goodness in truth I covered my eyes
the lord replied behold women remove
your hands from your face for you are women
you are child no more sighing mother
no more crying woman and needing help
because no one noticed when Jesus welpt
Little brother, you're new to trick or treat and Halloween.
Mom says I must introduce you, so I'll describe the scene.
It's a scary night, and little children often wind up dead.
The danger is so great, even the sun hides his fiery head,
but just before he disappears in lily-livered fright,
long shadows announce, "soon begins the long and gory night".
Like I told you, power saws turn trees into gnarled stumps.
Dark outlines turn hunchback dwarves into giants with big humps.
Silhouettes lengthen, and they hideously portend
the gruesome ways in which young lives prematurely end.
Why would our mother want to send us out on All Hallow's Eve?
She would like to get rid of us, I can only believe.
In a week or two, she will forget both of our names.
She'll sell our baseball cards, remove our pictures from their frames,
and take a holiday in the islands of Tahiti.
'Twas ironic how she said, "have a good time, sweetie".
Your only concern is to hang on dearly to your life,
and avoid vampires, zombies and Jack the Ripper's knife.
When the goblins discover that you are on the loose,
they'll surely try to catch you and hang you with a noose.
Big brother, if by chance, they kill you, not me, on this stroll,
do you mind if I eat your candy corn and tootsie roll?
“A fool sees not the same tree
that a wise man sees
which moves some to tears of joy
is in the others only a green thing
that stands in the way.”
William Blake
Brutal cruel and ignorant
Barbaric really
That stupid woman
Who chopped the flowering rose bushes
Down to one-foot stumps
Because their petals littered the common driveway
And she had no time to clean up after them
She thought they were her disobedient children
She a self appointed cleaner
No gardener of our common garden drive
With no knowledge of gardening children or cleanliness
She spends all her time sterilizing her house
And drying her badly washed laundry
In the unwilling air of the rolling Tuscan hills
This is what we are dealing with
Un- trainable un-teachable blindness
Beasts who massacre deface and pollute
the blessedness of this world unseen
unknown unknowable
The dignity of the non-human world
Assaulted by creatures from hell
Destroyed without compunction
Without any moral consideration
I hear the roses screaming in my sleep
But it’s too late
They will no longer be flourishing
We have come too far
There is no hope left
We can only wait
For the world to be truly cleansed
The wind wailed, and I could hear the trees cry;
as I approached the scar of a clear cut.
No birds were on the ground or in the sky,
it resembled a killing field somewhat.
Before me lay the bleached bones of dead trees;
abandoned limbs, a woodsman's axe hacked off.
And stumps of a forest felled to its knees;
while locals protest and profiteers scoff.
Old-growth forests get harvested at length,
and soon, they will disappear forever.
These trees lend the Native people their strength;
a living link, we've no right to sever.
As this clearcut drew a tear from my eye,
the wind wailed, and I could hear the trees cry.
My eyes can't believe what I am seeing,
My ears can't believe what they are hearing,
I have no words for those naive beings,
And my hearts and mind confused by mixed feelings.
Does Anger come into play or do we forgive the words they say?
Do we feel sad for how they are thinking?
Living a life controlled and slowly sinking?
I once tried to worn them, just to be mocked and slowly condemned.
By who I call my people my dearest and nearest, family and friends.
Some of us see it so clearly, where others only see things like rain on glass very bleary.
So I will look after myself and the ones I love and pray to God our above, for all the sheep on earth, who's life will never really be there's or of real worth
Sad to say but oh how true, just stumps my mind, so crazily.
No control,no say, no freedoms when manipulation is your existence. Some may be content with that, and that is fine.
But I will not be complacent and owned by those who want their power and ego grown. Who aren't happy with what they have so they
Will selfishly take from me.
Who do they think they are how unhumaine and evil can they be, thinking they can fool the world that we are so stupid we won't see.
So the sheep will slowly release me and think they are safer, and it won't be a problem you see because they have been programmed to be empathy free and soon they will totally forget about you and me.
Slowly one by one group by group will disappear and they will be gone and we will be here.