Long Wildwood Poems
Long Wildwood Poems. Below are the most popular long Wildwood by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wildwood poems by poem length and keyword.
Who remembers, is it only me?
When March had drizzled, and April fooled us...
But a morning in the month of May.........
We'd spread upon a kitchen table
Paste made of flour, scissors, borrowed
paper, crayons of rainbow colors
Pretty paper doilies and….
Mama letting little hands
Create surprises, of cone shaped fans…
The memory shrugs so many years
Where innocence, was cut and shaped
Into bright-sprigged paper cones
Accomplishments, each of our own
On May the first, a small bouquet
We would rehearse, a verse to say
To spread come spring, then run away
Then quickly running out the door
To pick spring beauties, one by one
Fresh Lillies of the Valley, wildwood fern,
Gathering them, heavy on their stems
Sweet and fresh as morning dew,
So filled with springtime, filled with bloom
Then paper cones were flower filled
Small bouquets of sweet perfume
Then down the dusty road we trudged
Side by side, with grins of pride
No greater pleasure as a child
The thought of bringing someone smiles
On May the first, a small bouquet
We would rehearse, a verse to say
To spread come spring, then run away
Timid knocking on a door
“Surprise...Surprise! Look what’s in store!”
Our little legs now running fast,
And down the road, quite out of breath
Behind a tree, where we would hide
And watch them find this flower prize
Must not....get caught.....must not get caught!
And we were taught
That bringing gifts to make them sigh
Was worth a lot !! Was worth the thought
A thoughtful way to light their eyes
On May the first, a small bouquet
We would rehearse, a verse to say
To spread come spring, then run away
_________________________________________________________
2/19/14
Oh, the incessant noise, the jibber jabber,
civilization’s cure for loneliness,
the panacea for boredom.
If only, if only, “You’ve got male.”
would be an answer.
Ah, but no…
Tweet on, “Oh ship of state…”
this Union, this rudderless human joining…
Oh, to be a deer in the wood
the silent wood, the sea of green, the eye of calm
to hear naught but the patter of rain.
And, taste only the dewy mist
on the tip of pedal pink tongue.
To not have soiled the soul, flesh eater, destroyer
To be Un-manned…
To run and leap, doe-eyed, over fallen log…instead of fallen foe.
To rise a-dawning in the mist of a four-legged dream.
To be mounted by a loyal buck
and birth a quivering fawn.
Surely, all the monkey mind has to offer
can not compare to the innocence of the doe.
Shut the roaring static, kill the jabber walkie
resurrect me silent, furred and free
amongst the fiddleheads and moss
of the wildwood.
Bright, bright light of dawn, surrounded by the tall, tall flowers.
A newborn flower, newly drawn while O’er me others tower.
A life began amidst so many, cradled close to mother’s plenty.
Mild, mild days of childhood, surrounded by the fresh, fresh flowers.
A vibrant flower ‘midst the wildwood while on me blessings shower.
A life so good amidst so many, worries few, and friends a plenty.
Wild, wild times of adolescence, surrounded by the fun, fun flowers.
A blooming flower, grown in essence, while every fear’s devoured.
A life so fun amidst the many, open doors and strength a plenty.
Hard, hard years adulthood brings, surrounded by the old, old flowers.
A toiling flower, sighs or sings while new dilemmas cower.
A life so spent to serve the many, work and rearing found a plenty.
Long, long hours of senior years, surrounded by the few, few flowers.
A blossom waned and drained by years, while in spirit full of power.
A life of memories of the many, love and grace I've had in plenty.
Bright, bright light of dawn, surrounded by the white, white flowers!
A reborn flower, newly drawn, while O’er me Yahweh towers.
Life eternal ‘midst so many, Joy complete, rebirth a plenty!
Cottonmouth, dirty south
Mustard biscuits, shut my mouth
Down the Gulf of Mexico
Running down Casino Row
Through the miles of slot machines
Making music, chasing dreams
How far I'm going, I don't know
Ain't time to go I'm on a roll
Mississippi, Mississippi bound
Just a little place I call my home
I'm cornhood, wildwood, backwoods
Mississippi bound, y'all come on down
I can sing and play guitar
I sell myself from bar to bar
New songs, ancient rythyms
Pretty girls, go and get ?em
Young bucks, rap cats
Rednecks and white trash
Blackwater, summer breeze
Kiss the ground, I'm on my knees
Mississippi, Mississippi bound
Just a little place I call my home
I'm cornhood, wildwood, backwoods
Mississippi bound, y'all come on down
Yazoo Bayou
I tell you a thing or two
Tripping on a starfish
Someone boiling crawfish
Shrimp boats, break of day
Shining on Biloxi Bay
There is no concept of time
A Mississippi state of mind
Mississippi, Mississippi bound
Just a little place I call my home
I'm cornhood, wildwood, backwoods
Mississippi bound, y'all come on down
Mississippi bound, y'all come on down
Mississippi bound, y'all come on down
I'll see you around
©2005.
Long has lived the legend of her,
In sunsets of scarlet and violet,
When fields were scented in lavender--
Her theme fragrance lingers yet!
Dainty and elegant in lilac dress,
Hyacinth lives next to a grapevine,
Petite, pretty, pert, purple princess;
Upon her grapes she loves to dine.
The Princess of Purple reigns afar,
In the warm gaze of her mother, Sun;
In her royal robes--no other her par,
Highlighting all that she touches upon.
Hyacinth's rings of amethyst shine,
Like the starlight would if it could;
She's summer gladness and autumn wine,
Her home's a place called Wildwood!
She's wont to wear violets in her hair,
Which is somewhat the color of ripe plum;
A piercing ebony stare, beyond compare,
And each sunset's a purple martyrdom!
Mary Lou Sims was young and enterprising, like stars routing dark;
Or mauve dawn on the verge of discovery, awaiting time's remarks.
Mary Lou's best friend was Cora Mann, ever since sweet childhood;
When they'd sat in zesty school together, in the town of 'Wildwood.'
They dreamed of opening an antique shop, like an old rose garden;
Awash in butterscotch sun's long memory, scents roaming, wanton.
Other friends visited Mary Lou frequently, like frilly clouds visit sun;
Avid for frothy, plum memories, like formal moon, beyond the fallen.
Family favored Mary Lou with visits, on flowering Fridays of her life;
As raspberry filled a backdrop of days, and plumed flocks were rife.
She lived in the house of tasks and haste, like pink stars, ever shining;
Or butterflies laboring in flowers, near the place of wisteria, climbing.
Striped scarlet seized colorful dawn, on a street of transient starlings;
Where sassy Mary Lou resided, when ravens spread their dark wings..
And neon hues lit noisy nightfall, when nomad neighbors came calling;
In now moments of now and then, when time notably, stops crawling.
'Elephant foot' plants shook earth, while swan flowers glided, moonlit.
Then 'mermaid plants' dove at dusk, as weeping begonias cried a bit.
'Sorceress blue rose' bewitched all, as jade spiral cacti dizzily twirled;
And 'curly locks orchid,' combed her tresses, under starlight, pearled.
Mary Lou and Cora, were closer to their dream. A loan was approved;
And Mary Lou wrote a note to friend, Cora, like colors of joy, suffused.
Mary Lou gathered other letters to be mailed, and also the one to Cora,
With joyful news of the rest of their lives, like mulberry skies of aurora.
She toted and mailed the letters, using a basket, of yellow and green;
Yet, with no word from Cora, worried she was having doubts. Unseen!
But, elation returned when a boy rang her bell, with the letter she'd lost,
For, some acts of kindness are so great, that you could not place a cost!
'A-tisket a-tasket
A green and yellow basket
I wrote a letter to my friend
And on the way I dropped it,
I dropped it, I dropped it,
And on the way I dropped it.
A little boy he picked it up
And put it in his pocket.'
sometimes the fiendish forest
burns
delicate d r e a m s
of this forsaken tree,
curating chaos from creased clovers
amidst wildwood armor
of a grounded warrior~
the
m a i d e n
of evergreen grace
singing solace
to the triggered thicket
while blushed by
the flares of life.
yet I still r u n from twirling
tremors of t i m e
for this soul
craves
pristine palettes of p e a c e
dipped in the oceanic ochre
of silk and salt
and this heart
speaks to the moon-hibiscus
in diverse dialects
of empathy
amidst waves of woes...
O weary wayfarer
cloaked in restless rays,
waltz with me to the
warmer side of the frost-clawed sun
where dragonflies rest
upon the tender tips of tiger-lilies
letting go of fickle
f l a m e s of summer
that feels like
raining splinters,
sinking into the wintry roots
soiled with serenity
stained with s e c r e t s~
a hushed herbary harvesting
thyme and rue
magic and light
hypnotic heartbeats...
as these lovelorn sighs
whisper lucid lines~
casting away
willows of wickedness
to embrace the esoteric eyes
of the poetic sunrise…
No iron wheel disturbs the velvet moss,
Nor smoke of cities stains the amber light,
Here, mortal cares are reckoned total loss,
And day retreats to soft, star-laden night.
The silver brooklet hums a quiet song,
To ancient oaks that guard the silent stream,
Here, untamed beauty righteth every wrong,
And wraps the soul within a waking dream.
Come, cast away the shackles of the town,
And let the wildwood mend the weary heart,
When sun-kissed twilight wears her purple gown,
And worldly wisdom falls from us apart.
A breath of pine, a breath of quiet earth,
In nature’s arms, the spirit finds rebirth.
There is a hole in the earth
It lays in the west far from the city crowds.
It is the berth of forest and wildwood
It is majestic in its watery discourse
It is where the earth's crust met the sky
Conjoined and shared their distinct elements
Where mountains reached upwards to their destiny
Yet was besieged and shaped by this kismet
Divined and immersed with the waters of life
A contest of perfect union
Pitting the magnitude of years of conflict and resolution
A saga birthing a new landscape
A masterpiece of colors and substance to behold
And in this concourse of creation has evolved
All that is worthy for those who perceive its' artistry
Tis the profound worship for love and beauty
For all that appreciate its perfection
The forward-pointing fight of jolly time overflies.
And today blurs into a missing yesterday reprise.
The present blossom has dwindled and faded away,
Into a meager light reminiscence of yesterday.
Wildwood snuggles,
haystacks of sparkles,
yesterday struggles,
tomorrow marvels
It's sobering to discover a shattered soul in ruin.
The rage of this life was my deep eternal bane.
Heroic hearts provide a sense of timelessness.
Only to be misled after restoring to endlessness.
Wildwood snuggles,
haystacks of sparkles,
yesterday struggles,
tomorrow marvels
Unbeknown to the utterly ecstatic child.
On bestow, eternality on previous days riled.
He abused the promises devoted to himself that day.
As a result, auld enough, therefore a relentless journey.
A young sparrow meets a growing north wind.
His ambitions don't adapt to the pride designed.
And a terrible yet enlightening event arose.
Men envy the sunbird on the sky, tells the prose.
Wildwood snuggles,
Haystacks of sparkles,
yesterday struggles,
Tomorrow marvels.
Written: November 29, 2021
1st Place contest winner.
''Y'' Contest, New Poems - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France