Long Willow Poems
Long Willow Poems. Below are the most popular long Willow by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Willow poems by poem length and keyword.
Balgar was starting to feel his age now and tired of travel sorted out a hidden
cave in which to rest and make some potions. Once he had enough he went to the village two days away where he bartered and traded with locals then headed
to the pub to slack his thirst. When he left some tried to follow him and failed miserably for it was not the right time yet.
Balgar took a deep breath and carried on healing and seeking more knowledge
The more he learnt the wiser he became but at the same time grew more stooped he now showed his age in each wrinkle. Once more he set off to the village where he traded with the locals and kept an open eye for a suitable
man to train to fill his place. Sadly there was no one feeling his age he stopped
over night at the pub then set of for his cave many tried to follow him in vain
giving up as they lost him but one still followed him.
In fact he could not shake her off she passed every test with ease. So Balgar headed for his cave still she was there finding the hidden entrance with ease.
Balgar questioned her and it become obvious that she was the chosen one she told him her name was Willow. We have much catching up to do said Balgar to
Willow as he began to teach her the secret druid ways. As she learnt Balgar gradually grew weaker and soon it was his time to join the other druids that had already passed on and so we leave Willow to learn and grow.
I’m grieving like a weeping willow tree
I’m hanging on the branches
Colliding…colliding
Like leaves falling one by one,
My life is failing to seek the light (I don’t wanna face His wrath)…
And I blurred out the sun
I’m drooping like a weeping willow tree
I’m hanging helplessly…my sorrow hatches
Abiding…subsiding…
Like leaves plunging every hour,
My life is wandering off of God’s path (Do I still look precious in God’s sight?)…
And I can’t help but cower
I’m trembling like a worn-out cigarette
My doom is caving in…and I crumble…
I’m starving for Your comfort… I’m upset
My fate is close at hand…yet I still crumble
Into ash.
How much do I love you?
I've played to know.
Let me count the ways,
All the ways I can show,
You my Love...
First there was one
and by one she stood.
Two came along,
an expansion of love.
Then three held hands
near a willow tree,
As four sang carols
to the humming bee.
Five was there,
like a guiding light...
Finally, we recognized Six.
And we stopped the fight.
Seven was right,
there are Eight
gates in Heaven.
Nine sang divine,
And ten at the 'end'...?
Was a mistaken, eleven.
Twelve chimed "New Time".
And Ophiuchus was restored,
To Her, proper place of Mind.
Among Friends,
In the Great Circle.
*wiki.com
Ophiuchus is a large constellation located around the
celestial equator. Its name is Greek for 'snake-holder', and it is commonly represented as
a man grasping the snake that is represented by the constellation Serpens....
"~Charming story..."
Form:
As butterfly
I spread my wings
Float in blue sky
Like bird heart sings
Crisis fleeing
Bathing in sun
Never needing
Liquor or gun
As feral cat
Hunting for dinner
Found a fat rat
Supper winner
Am not wasteful
Bones sharpen teeth
I’m so graceful
Watch how I leap
Into the tree
That bends in wind
Creates shade leaves
Rustle amen
Weeping willow
Responds to life
All animals
Seek shelter nights
Like brown rabbit
Along with family
Hopping habit
From dog he flees
Who is a pet
With furry name
Gonna get wet
In light spring rain
Rain that feeds all
Flowers sway feast
They grow green tall
Feeding the bees
Who I disturb
Wearing perfume
My spoken word
Making them zoom
I flee from bees
Into the house
Not escaping
Sting and I shout
Nursing my stings
Was it my fault
Was only a dream
To take a walk
In the garden
Bird watch sun bathe
Bees don’t pardon
Maybe one day
I’ll be reborn
Creature with wings
With ego shorn
Happy living
As butterfly
I spread my wings
Float in blue sky
Living a dream
Once, it was a time of true magic,
when the world was small and soft.
It had to be magic, my mind of five told me:
how else could my brothers and I go to sleep
on an ordinary, dull and quiet night...
to awaken in sheer joy the next morn
as though we had been zapped by a warm
bolt of harmless lightning--
setting our now restless bodies tingling.
Like racehorses at the gate of magic,
we stood at the top of the stairs,
pulling at whatever patience we could muster
under the admonitions of Mom and Dad to wait!--
wait! the camera must be loaded-- but how very
painful it was to be still when we knew that
children's paradise was a stairway away--
and what a paradise we saw unfolded
in our now unfamiliar living room!
The tree drew our eyes first--it was big and fat,
with its branches sagging under the great weight
of all its myriad ornaments: glass balls and sweets
and plastic candy canes and tinsel drooping as though
it hung on a some forsaken weeping willow instead of
a tall, proud Blue Spruce : and millions and millions
and millions of colored lights, blinking relentlessly,
made our tree sparkle like the royal crown of a giant king--
perhaps the King of Toys, for toys were seen everywhere
we looked: cars ,trucks , bikes, games, bats-- and balls!
Each brother ran quickly to his own precious pile
(we marveled how thoughtful Santa must be)
and knew in each pile would be some boxes
beautifully wrapped but sans treasure,
holding only socks or shirts, perhaps a sweater--
well, even the jolly fat man could not be perfect--
still, he brought magic to our dull house every year,
transforming our prosaic lives into poetry overnight
by wonder, by magic, by love....
And when he went away, when I was an ancient six,
the world grew much bigger but colder,
dull and empty of that special joy that can only come
to those children who believe....
[Note: This bittersweet poem was also bittersweet to write, as losing childhood itself is bittersweet.]
rec'd n/a in Regina McIntosh's contest, 12/18/20
Deep violet Hibiscus with velvety petals,
On the quaint fence, sprawl the zestful creepers.
Mesmerizing tall branches of serene evergreen,
With tricksy Swallowtails, Redbreast Robin merrily whistling.
Ebullient songs of chirping Hummingbirds,
Little bushy squirrel excitedly searching for nuts,
Large leaves of Willow creating a comforting shade underneath,
Reminding of secret footsteps, rustling of leaves.
Mysteriously charming moon with blinking stars at night,
Gleaming jewels tell poignant stories, luminous and bright.
An unforgettable lullaby raindrops whisper,
Meanders in my alluring dreams, a gently murmuring river.
Peacocks dancing in a trance to the exuberant melody of rain -
Enthralling are the mystical rays of golden dawn divine.
In the fathomless blue ocean of my memory, I dive, and find the pearls,
My muse, my inspiration - guiding light, most precious!
Crooning mellifluously in my recurring dreams,
The deepest love, the immense blissfulness, all intertwined!
July 26, 2020
A Brian Strand Rhymed Poetry Contest
Mankind in all his stupidity and greed is slowly destroying our beautiful earth, the warnings are there but he chooses to ignore them.
Quote by poet.
I sat down under the cool shade of some weeping willow trees,
a babbling brook flowed nearby and was so soothing to hear.
I felt totally relaxed then I fell asleep and started to dream.
So, I asked the trees a question why is it that you all weep?
one said" We weep because of the way man treats mother earth,
he cuts down her forests because of greed causing climate change,
he dumps rubbish in her great oceans and is killing all her wildlife,
and causes great conflicts because others don't share his views.
So, you see my friend we don't have much to be happy about".
A plane flying overhead finally woke me up from my deep sleep.
It troubled me what I'd dreamt and as I walked away, I wept with them.
" Tortured metaphors
spilling from tequila lips,
t i p t o e on my pulse ~
breaking in an arced smile
of the featherless eclipse,
where I waltz as a secluded steel-shine,
sobered s o f t l y
by the taste of satanic stars..."
I'm the loss of a leaf
from gold-dew aspens,
rippling upon
turquoise typewriters,
where drunk fingertips dance.
Turning to ashes,
my heart m e l t s
as a metallic grenade,
and no philosopher's stone
ever reverberating
in its silver-winged silence.
Seeking shelter from smoldering seas,
I curl up in the womb of a guardian willow ~
she's a weeping angel of n e v e r l a n d,
with an ornamented garland
of guns and roses,
enveloping me in the corpse of sunset.
Plunging from diamond cobwebs
into isles of champagne,
like a dynamite dove bloodthirsty for sun,
I l u r k along reefs
studded with rhinestones, unfurling –
lotus manuscripts
as poetic pearls s l i p and t w i r l,
snorkeling in an obsidian oasis.
I miss being
a purple-whisper prophecy,
threaded in fractured letters,
for now, my ink b l e e d s
in the marrow of moon,
where an alchemy is lost and found...
In the chronicles of carnelian clemency
and supernova sorcery,
I've seen arctic assonances
hibernating
in the throats of those,
holding lethal jewels
as a nightingale's neon noose.
So, if my soul is an opal widow
of your thistle-light affection,
a verse romanticised
will be my crystal coffin,
and in the caricatures
of kohl and karma,
our silent soliloquy
shall delicately be shifted.
Surfing in the splitting s i n s
of a salty saviour,
this whiskey damsel
shall evermore remain
a scentless phrase,
scrapped by pencilled brush-strokes,
i n v i s i b l e
in our paper-cut destiny...
You will need a terrific setting. The suck up kids are nodding.
Make sure that your character is interesting.
She says this in a monotone voice.
The only voice she has.
The one that puts me to sleep.
I languish back, whispering with my tree.
A willow with flowing hair, and a sweet nod.
Her bluebirds call my name, inviting me to dance.
A teacher’s droning is in the background, but I can ignore her.
She is easy to ignore.
Here is a template you’ll need.
Two teacher’s pets immediately say they will pass them out.
The teacher calls another one’s name.
A reluctant student who is probably in the land of giants
Slaying dragons.
I smile. It’s not me this time.
Cardinals and robins flit over, hunting for food.
There is a brush against my arm. It’s the template.
But I pretend it is the willow tree, loving me.
My eyes begin to close, a nap in the works.
I enjoy my soft day with her gentle quick ways.
I am in the zone, asleep under the willow. It is a warm day. The sun is gentle.
“Will need a partner,” teacher says, bringing me back to my 5th grade desk.
I choose Jameson, I say, noting his horrified look.
He knows I did not hear almost any of the instructions.
They all know I am usually more than half asleep in most of my classes.
Someone giggles.
The teacher must have given her a sharp look.
The giggle stops in mid giggle.
Jameson is terrified that I will not know what to do, but I do.
Taking the paper out of his hand, I offer to do the writing.
I ask for his ideas.
He has none.
So I begin with a flourish!
Vanishing souls lies in death's pastures
Fleeting joy, incurious in my surroundings
Shades of green glistening in glory
An unpredictable breath that barely measures
A destiny that lies and vanishes through the Death Valley
A heart's main glee
Shines peaceably... passing above a wave of sparkling envy
Bliss sinks in my marrow
Pensive solitude,
Splitting it into a rejoicing vibe
Joyous in its company...we could have a blissful sleepover until
tomorrow
Together we'll make a strengthening converse
Piety fitting in these periling times
Wandering over vales, evanescent life screwing my infancy
A jocund soul departs from a burden--too cherished in disobedient lies
Childish features blurring my uncertain future
Incessant in my trespasses
I draw near through deathly shadows
Moping in ceaseless torment
Roaring as a monsoon in abstract movement
Vacant in thought...wealth filling in our evanescent humility
Dodging arrows of inevitable death
Bound to track us down,
Chopping down the Weeping Willow tree
Driven mad in knotting triumph
Hoarsely placing us in a shady asylum
Numbed by flustering anxiety
Cursing down this greedy society
Whirling us back to
Evanescent pastures
I'm dependent in this unordinary place
Though it leaves me with only disgrace
Discontent by the isolated misfortune
Vacant in thought...wealth filling in our evanescent humility
Dodging arrows of inevitable death
Bound to track us down,
Fogging our interest of society,
Doom crafting our fate...soon we'll be too late
Whirling us back to
Evanescent pastures
Denying our repents out of revenge
Unsuitable to reconstruct chastening renewal
Superb for a
tranquilizing solitude