Long Trees Poems
Long Trees Poems. Below are the most popular long Trees by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Trees poems by poem length and keyword.
It feels like summer, but it is still spring, so you can join me in the ring. Morning comes alive with hot air blowing in my side; the humidity in the atmosphere is spreading everywhere. Sweat is dripping from my face, and it is running all over the place, my clothes are soaked with perspiration, but the day is filled with aspiration.
The grass is still green and the cloud in the skies with different shades of blue move rapidly above me as my heart lament over the open sea. Some places are dry and all the moisture is gone from the sky, but gravity keeps us strong and courage pushes us on.
It feels like summer, but it is still spring, and I have a song to sing, the days are running by and I have no time to die. I can hear the stream running in the distance and the voice of hope calling out without doubt, while those on the picketing line stood together to vent their pent-up sorrows. The leaves on the trees are green, and nature comes on the scene, the blossoms are falling on the ground, but spring is still in town.
The freshness of spring is burnt up in the sun, and the passion of the universe is still on the run, I pack my bag to go in search of me, but I end up on the other side of the sea. Spear me the time, to enjoy this moment in time. No eyes on me, no weapon around and no spirit above me.
It feels like spring, so I want to invite you to come in, I have a recipe for you and I have gotten you a new pair of shoes. We are going down the beach to take a ride on the big boat in the sea. I left my sorrows behind and place my heart in front of me; we will parade around the beach with guitar, drums and saxophone, get the sharks and whales to join us for we have no room for fuss.
It feels like summer for fire is still spreading in the gutter, the air is dry, the water in the fire hydrant is low and the people have no place to go. Come and enjoy spring with me and set your spirit free. Your darling is in the sun so grab your bag and come before the day is done; spring is still in town roaming all around.
Grackles
I rambled along a city street
Going nowhere with no one to meet
When I espied grackles in a tree,
Stretching and heckling between the leaves.
Purplish-headed, black-feathered beings,
Perched on the branches, stately and free.
Undaunted by my drawing nearer,
Their yellow eyes traced my demeanour.
And when I stopped to observe the plague
While standing ‘neath the foliage shade,
They dropped to the ground and hopped around
Searching for bugs and seeds to swallow down.
Other birds in the vicinity,
Colourfully dressed and singing brightly,
Flitted about but could not drown out
The grackles’ cacophony hereabouts.
Their corny antics invoked my senses
To marvel that such creatures existed.
And as I continue my dreary way
In this world of bland human display,
I think of them enjoying the summer,
Filling my heart with spirited wonder.
And I chuckle to myself by chance to see
Grackles basking in tall broadleaf trees.
Was it my fault? My fault that the wolf was stalking me as prey, walking my way, behind me?
My fault so much that I was fined?
As if what I was wearing signed ME, for this pain, for this rage barely contained?
"What were you wearing?" They ask, but does that matter?
The wrapper doesn't matter to the predator as long as they get to capture the prey, the food, soothing their moods.
So was it really my fault for the crime that occurred?
or because you'd rather blame the prey for the monster's mistake?
for the crime scene on the streets?
for the people talking while the wolf hides behind trees, waiting for his next prey.
Joker:
Sunday dinner had a precursor of momma announcing I'm cooking so don't nobody touch this stove
Then when I got older, they would always say if you can't take the heat stay out the kitchen
But the brain automatically goes against the challenges of free will
And against my better judgement some things I just had to learn the hard way
Hard cover books aren't supposed to feel like pillows, but they do when you become engulfed in the narrative
I was wasting away in Barnes and Noble when the narrative turned the page, and I saw a smile that made the ink-colored leaves feel wet
A fall rain that watercolors the palette of tears from trees
Tears that smear ink from the page onto my skin
Into a smile that is now tattooed to my memory
Like the affirmation note I glance over every morning
This reminder was about 5'3, caramelized cinnamon skin, and a smile that made everyone believe in angels
A smile that hits all the wrong angles because I know you're not the one for me, but my nerves are intrigued
On what that smile looks like as it melts away on my lips
Lava isn't supposed to be comforting
Drips of honey with every kiss, I know I shouldn’t be doing this, but I'm addicted…
To her smile, and the way it looked at me seeing everything others would ignore
It's hard to ignore how hot and bothered she's got me like I'm back in the kitchen
I looked at my hand and could still see the scars from the stove
Momma warned me about girls like you
p.s. but I always liked to play with fire...
June magic, in the form of a scrolling woman, wise.
Bringing silver crescent moon closer in our eyes.
Sprinkling trees with faerie princess aluminum spark.
Enjoying white bark’s daisy followers, illuminating dark.
June magic, aquamarine vessel of my heart,
Blowing in with wind from south, classy from the start….
June magic, wedding weather, showing us how to love.
Bringing the softest nicest things from God’s world far above.
Prancing in with a flow, all her own, gentle and pretty.
Whistling in the garden, showing us she can be witty.
Summer’s scrolling wise woman, with soft, sweet lovely hair.
Bringing all the goodness of the season, and vegetables to share.
She fills our dreams with summertime, showing us our favorite times.
She prances through my poet brain, giving me new kinds of rhymes.
Her scrolling hair, sculpted in the best kind of mountain air,
Surrounds the environment, showing me she does truly care.
June magic goddess, my favorite season, my most awesome queen,
You bring with you the hope and faith of a season oh, so green!
June magic goddess, you are welcome, queen of my best dreams.
I wish you were here now, sharing your aquamarine moonbeams!
Sitting at the edge of the lake,
I watch reflections in front of me
Swirling with the wishes I make
So many, but the most to be free
As if I’m flying up in the sky
I watch reflections in front of me
I want peace instead of wonders why
I want love to spread with every breeze
As if I’m flying up in the sky
Dropping angel’s feathers on the trees
I want wishes to grow, standing tall
I want love to spread with every breeze
So truth will shine, relieving us all
As reflections become part of me
I want wishes to grow, standing tall
Conclusions to wishes I can see
Sitting at the edge of a lake
As reflections become part of me
Swirling with the wishes I make
1/9/20
Entry for What are your wishes contest. Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Where is your God?
Will someone tell me; (O please tell me)
Where is your God?
will somebody tell me;
Is He lurking behind the trees;
Or is He searching for me;
Where is you God?
Will someone tell me; ( I'm searching)
Where is your God?
will somebody tell me;
I just want to right now, see. . .
How is He going to find me;
I got to know right now;
Is He in the air I breathe;
or is He lurking behind the trees;
or is He searching for me;
I just want to know right now;
How is He going to be;
Where is your God;
Written by James Edward Lee (c)1974
(from the "All Alone" demo album Sound Recorders/Corinthian Record Company July 1974)
No January morning is ever so devastating, the heavy icicles
dangle from the frozen shingles of houses with puffing chimneys;
no eyes will see the misery of scattered, broken snow flowers...
all paths winding down the icy slopes are buried as memories
of summers past, and by late spring, will they return to us?
Ah, fierce is the strong hand of Nature causing fear through vengeance!
The coldest wind howls, bends trees finding no resistance,
only snow is seen for miles stretching into the warmer South;
where are the Eskimo dogs pulling the heavy-loaded sleights?
Where are the chiseled-faced drivers with the fur-covered heads?
Where are the fishing boats loaded with salmon and trout?
Ah, fierce is the hand of Nature causing fear through vengeance!
It'll get dark early, mornings will be cold and evenings as frigid as Iceland',
only the pathetic moon will shed its dim light on that thick and vast
sheet of gleaming ice that bears crack with their excessive weight...
why live in this cold region and wait for the tons of snow to melt?
Travel South, straight into California to catch some healthy sunshine;
your pale skin will turn red, golden, or bronze smelling the scent of a vine!
Forget these poetic words that end my long epic of sad reminiscence,
" Ah, fierce is the strong hand of Nature causing fear through vengeance! "
God used His finger to fill the seas
With cobalt whispers and azure dreams
God touched the mountains and slopes
With dancing oaks and laughing pine trees
God threw the stars, all twinkling with light
Across the night skies, brilliant – alive!
God formed the sun with His beautiful smile
Filling every heart with joy and promise
God colored the roses, the lilacs and lilies
With music awash in His stunning radiance
God left glitter across the sunny reflections
Lingering on the kiss of His very breath!
God fashioned the birds, butterflies and bees
In artistic hues, vibrant and filled with melodies
God whispered hope across the silent creation
Reminded every heart that He is so amazing
God blinked out a breathtaking grace and peace
Across the delicate faith that prays with praise!
God encouraged the heart to love without conditions
With a love that gives more willingly than it expects
God lit up the darkness with kindness and beauty
Shimmering with reminders that He is pure and holy
God sent us a Savior, His one and only Son, Jesus
To save us from our worries, our fears and our enemies!
God taught us to believe with a sincere trust in Him
The One who created our spirits and gave us feelings
The One who breathed His own breath into our lungs
The One who knew our souls better than we could hope
The One who would never leave us or forsake us
The One who brought us grace to assure our salvation!
This Christmas, my prayer is for this one gift…
Knowing the One who is love – with a heart that is assured
Of the bright and shining light who fills spirits
With a sense of faith – assurance of His grace
And the chance to reach out to others with His gift
The assurance that Love came down one Christmas Eve!
Oh, my dear honorable poet!
Words recess when I write about you
For, they start loving you
You were a sincere lover,
when you wrote about love;
You were a lovable mother,
when you wrote about a child;
You were a faithful leaf,
when you wrote about trees;
You were the struggling last breath,
when you praised the air;
You were the righteous river,
when you sang about the falls;
You were the boundless sky,
when you sang for the birds;
you were the yearning bare land,
when you wrote about the rain;
You were the trustworthy soldier,
when you wrote about patriotism;
You were the jubilant mother nature,
when you wrote about nature;
You were the powerful priest,
when you praised the lord
Through your worthy words,
you gave life to the abandoned swaying rope;
Your notable notes,
persuaded songs to the singing koels;
Your incredible imageries,
granted countless ideas for the poets;
Your romantic rhythms,
enriched soulful meaning to the ragas;
Your powerful patriotic songs
obliterated the superfluous fears
and your proud personal life
taught us self-respect
Note: September 11 marks the death anniversary of India’s firebrand poet and a revolutionary thinker from Tamil Nadu, Subramania Bharati. In a relatively short life span of 39 years, Bharati left an indelible mark in India’s history as not only a Tamil poet but also as a national icon.