Long Walnut Poems
Long Walnut Poems. Below are the most popular long Walnut by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Walnut poems by poem length and keyword.
In the lovely Campanian countryside, amid
verdant hills and mountains...where Virgil
stopped to rest,while jeourneying to visit Cybele's temple,
lie a fertile valley where chestnut and walnut trees
abound...there is hidden the bustling town of my birth!
Narrow streets overlooked by bell towers,
and whenever the sturdy bronze bells ring
in the fragrant air of early spring:
young and old from windows and balconies,
in the twelfth hour, engage
in the sweet thanksgiving prayer...
while the tricolor flags sway in the warmest breeze!
The town's friendly people will welcome you with song,
untill you feel wonderful and touched by all;
this town has seen invasion, pestilences and a dire year...
an almost fatal hurricane that prevented a fierce battle
from being fought during World War II;
was Divine Intervention a factor to be acknowledged?
It spared this town being bombarded by air,
and it saved my mother's life to tell this truth!
God blessed this unknown place,
and sent Mary with the infant Jesus,
four days after He was born,
on a long jeourney through that valley
filled with peace and beauty:
to find a revered and holy mountain...
much closer to Heaven!
And She shed many tears
to give all the dull flowers
a brilliance of their own!
Deep in the hills there was a very special place I choose,
where I would rever the magnificence of the valley...
revealing a superb panorama with the Vesuvius in sight,
was there another creation as magnificent as that ?
And that owesome view perked up my inspiration inside,
teaching my tiny fingers to write with a human heart!
O Baiano, don't strip this name from your walls and stones:
I am a forgotten native who will return before he'll die!
I pen now of days of ultimate charm……
Of walking at midnight with no fear of harm.
When days were heaven, not a living hell.
When riding downtown was safe, on the Chicago El.
The Chicago Theatre, so amazingly glorious.
We went at twelve yrers old,with no fear, just curious!
Actors or actresses, we met at the stage door.
Could this young poetess have asked for anything more?
Restaurants with sparkling glassware, upon
glistening white tablecloths
Before the days of self service,sleazy, plastic
fork and knife haunts.
Days we more than glady got dressed up, to
go downtown.
And not one soul in torn jeans and sneakers
could be found!
Marshall Field was indeed, the department store
of dreams.
In their restaurant, the Walnut Room,in silver bowls,
ate nuts in green-minted ice cream.
My heart weeps for the city, as I knew it once,
so beautifully was.
The Chicago Police once respected, now lose their
lives, buried with honor in their white gloves.
Five hundred Chicagoans lost their lives, just alone
this last year.
A city of bullets, that ring past innocent citizens ears.
filled at midnight, with great fear!
9/25/2022
~1~
In my dream I wandered into a basement piano bar because someone told me it was the secret place to get great waffles. Sitting at the piano was Beth Hart crooning sorrowful songs, no other accompaniment, just Beth and a piano. It was like this tattooed lass just wandered down the stairs and sat down and started playing with only a few present to share a glorious hour in our lives. I sat at a table near the piano eating a thin waffle with whip cream on top, a scattering of walnut pieces, and no syrup, with a shot of Effen Black Cherry Whiskey on the side, blissfully listening to Beth. I could have died, my life fulfilled.
He opened the window in much practiced silence
If somebody heard there would likely be violence
He’d been here before and endured quite a spat
For when he broke in he encountered a cat
The cat ran him ragged but he never knew
That things would get worse because ‘one cat’… was two
They’d caught him off guard for he’d come unprepared
But now he’s forewarned so those cats should be scared
So pushing the curtains aside he climbed in
His flashlight, for now, was tucked under his chin
He listened for footsteps which might make him run
And switched on his flashlight to seek out some fun
He didn’t want money, nor high value loot
He’d come to give kittens a feel of his boot
And then in his beam there were eyes shining bright
He told them, “You cats won’t defeat me tonight.
“Last time I came I found cats in this house
Who ganged up on me with an overgrown mouse.
This time, it’s different… I’ve brought a big sack
So soon you’ll be gone and you ain’t coming back.”
Raisin said, “Mister, we’re taking you down.”
The man heard, “Meow” and that caused him to frown
“Don’t be mewing at me you dumb little moggie
You’re getting a home that is chilly and soggy.”
Rum flicked a paw in an ‘over there’ motion
The man with the flashlight said, “Quit the commotion.”
But he didn’t know that the ‘dumb little moggie’
Had mewed, “Turn around… meet our dumb massive doggie.”
In a moment of silence the man wasn’t ranting
And that is perhaps how the man heard the panting
A young German Shepherd is still quite a beast
The man just saw teeth that looked ready to feast
Walnut’s tongue lolloped, his mind in a muddle
How can a man, indoors, stand in a puddle
This quivering human was one tragic sight
But Walnut was good… and good dogs don’t bite
So, yes, he was good but the man didn’t know it
And Walnut decided that he shouldn’t show it
He feigned a mad growl and emitted some slobber
And local police got a call… from the robber!
That Day In ‘73
That day in ‘73 was as clear and pristine as glass ice,
Torched by a brace of smitten souls falling in love.
There was no lush music to be heard in this duet,
No swiveling rhythms or conga lines for the long dance,
Nay, these two lovers found quiet shade and a fantasy,
Parked intimately beneath a black walnut tree in August.
I saw the sun peeking at us through rustling green leaves.
You and I made constant eye contact and talked
Incessantly in the dallying breeze as the hours
Strutted forward like a striking drum beating silence.
Our eyes and mouths salivated with each salty utterance.
You talked with a Texas drawl showing white lusty teeth
As you sat cross legged showing bare brown gams,
Slender and shining as polished chrome on a new statue.
Who could have known then it would end up a naked failure,
A meteoric plunge from utter infatuation to the deep abyss of
Dysfunctional love, strangled by fiascos of precision and symmetry,
Of heightened expectations canceled in the sweating darkness,
The inability of breaching the sweetened walls, the ripe walls,
Of this nineteen year old mansion hidden below the tracks, with
This well-shaped Saturday night walking around with nothing on.
That day in ’06 was as cold and overcast as icy black dirt,
Casting a pall of paralyzing grief the size of a granite temple;
There was subdued string music emanating from a boom box,
As the mother and her living sisters stepped up to see the body,
The sunken tan face that once spoke with a sultry Texas drawl,
Once lay naked in the breast-kissing darkness with eyes staring up;
Now the shining statue sleeps with Cancer there, being kissed again.
Written: January 06, 2024
______________________________________
Shimmering swaths
of cerulean sea
ionize comely light
purple-tinged sand
strewn with tattered shells
during low tide,
summon imperial thrones,
tartly lovely youth
amid sparkling Tyrian swells,
whilst peering
solace amid
vibrant splendor
of landscape,
as serene slopes
and lucid pleas prevail,
I wait with ebbed breath
for an ethereal grace
to ignite a spark
of hope.
We haven't touched yet,
we're just syncing
over ariose love song,
as warm rain and clouds—bow
"Salut d'amour",
violins string opalescent tones
that rise and fall in pitch,
as a link to ink
an iridescent origami doodle
of a jewel-lit song,
summer nights of
ochre acrylics—a plethora
of fairy flickers and fireflies
amid a flurry of filigree,
to inveigle her into playing.
We draw on our kinship
as we float freely,
over crestfallen ocean
a pen swayed in time,
with an Elysian rim
on my horizon,
I whirl my love whims
and swirl the walnut wood
in disconsolate loops,
In a spice grist mill
sprinkles to spice my life.
Keys and gaunt codes
to demure this dalliance
served with Mirabelle tart
and for the sake of Muscat,
as the breeze tickles
those are my shutters
I fantasize about lying,
over her fastidious breast
as empyreal lee of
a sun-kissed knoll,
should she ever grasp
my hand and our
lips converge,
in an esoteric way
would we fit snugly?
as a dovetail joint in unison,
or would we plummet?
to our deaths
in shattered light?
8th place contest winner
Again, 'tis that glorious season of the year,
For sharin' love and spreadin' holiday cheer!
Time for my dear spouse to begin her ever-lovin',
Bakin' of toothsome delicacies in her trusty oven!
Some of Grandma's recipes are used in this enterprise,
'Specially the one for her scrumptious pecan pies!
She bakes a fruit cake of which I'll taste just a tittle,
But I'll sure sink my choppers into lots of peanut brittle!
An elaborate Victorian gingerbread house is created,
And cakes so soaked in rum I'll surely be inebriated!
There are spritz cookies of every size and shape.
Calories abound in the penuche over which I go ape!
A Yule tradition is a cookie call snickerdoodles.
Of these and pralines I can eat oodles and oodles!
Aromas waftin' about the house nearly drive me daffy,
As she makes cookies, walnut fudge and molasses taffy!
I'm allowed the bliss of the pots and pans to scrape,
But beyond that from the kitchen I must escape!
To sample all that stuff my palate is just itchin',
But I'm unceremoniously invited out of the kitchen!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Renegade trees pop up faster than dandelions all over my yard
I live in the country where I credit good old fashioned Kansas clay.
I wake up in the morning and bam, six new stalwart soldiers.
They guard wildlife as well as me, of course.
Fox, wolf, squirrel, bunnies, owls and cardinals live in these trees.
They prance or hop out sometimes, just to show me they are there.
I have elm, mulberry, willow, walnut, oak and acorns for sure.
I do not rake up any walnuts or acorns, preferring to feed squirrels.
I am rarely gone, but one time I was gone for four whole days.
When I drove down my drive, the trees waved in elaborate ways.
Their branches were flying up in the air on both sides, like a hello.
As soon as the car stopped, the waving stopped.
My husband asked me “What is up with those trees?”
“I think they were telling me hello,” I replies.
I hugged them extra hard that day,
And I swear they squeezed me back.
Like Root Beer Diamonds
smokestack lightning on the pomona freeway
plays their twangy sound brimming with desire
tan mexican cheerleader rides in a ’46 chevy
passing neon hamburger stands in walnut city
passing the silver taco trucks parked on main
they clang like bells in a distant temple of god
she say she want pozole beans and coca cola
her brown eyes sparkle like root beer diamonds
her dark skin enfolds me with unimagined force
the stars above my cruising machine wink at us
they know of our holy genuflections in the dark
the ‘46 chevy parks at javier’s mexican canteen
smokestack lightning plays their twangy sound
plays it on 8 track plastic brimming with desire
her sweet salsa voice puts my soul in handcuffs
her straight white teeth and wet lips enslave me
we sit close at a back table in the dim darkness
her brown eyes sparkle like root beer diamonds
"Bonjour, in the cocktail woods"
I see the waffled leaves of teal trees painting pink moon,
With diamond dahlia arcs, flowering an orchid boon
Sprinkling love of french perfumed spells and cocoa mystique,
Flickering in neon scented star seeds of rose-glossed antique
For, I'm the fragrant fluorescence of pure peace lilies,
Floating amidst dancing dove's glowing daisies
In a redolent riverbank, loving life like the sweet butter-sun,
Wandering in black forests, enveloping magic in red ribbons
Defrosting my white chocolate heart peeking through tinkles,
Singing beyond the glass petals of peony and snowdrop marvels;
Perhaps, plush strawberries too have starry scars,
On their silken ganache skin, bleached with calendula and mars
And my luscious butterscotch lips tremble at the blurry squeaks,
Ruffled by minty chills in my cherry-blushed cheeks
I search for addictive caffeine in gold-glazed dawns that bask,
Pouring nectarine reveries in lavender litchi hearts
Life's a bittersweet syrupy sea, coated with tangy rainbow hues,
Forlorn, this forbidden folklore is shaded with sycamore's adieus
They say, mocha pupils and vanilla haze of iris,
Can carve a melon hued watercolor portrait alive,
But I believe that the purest is never a sweet dessert survived,
In this delusional donut-shaped globe and tangerine beehive;
So, I shove my identity in Van Gogh's abstractly bejeweled canvas,
And let my caramel brown hair, gleam in golden hymns of aqua
Waving walnut "goodbyes" to velvet ochre sands and sapphire skies,
Forevermore, fluttering hummingbird's dreams in oscillating flamingo galaxies.