Long Woodland Poems
Long Woodland Poems. Below are the most popular long Woodland by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Woodland poems by poem length and keyword.
Daffodil majorettes lead the spring parade
Mom fox had lured out a reluctant kit
Verdant grasses are growing lovely shade
For dainty dulcet purple violet
Gentle nurturing rain from day or two
Coaxes her lace lilac to gently wake
Meadow rainbow chiffon a lovely hue.
Faerie-felt awe surrounds beautiful lake.
Carpet of tulips arrive on the scene.
Growth can be felt every hour or two.
Resurrection of weeds, not being mean.
Cyclical magic for me and for you.
The woodlands, the meadow, the lake and the dale.
Rebirth of spring yearly, without fail.
Written Feb 24, 2019
Contest: Springtime Rebirth
Sponsor: John Hamilton
This morning the sun burst over the hill warming the trees with its morning glow and scorching the grass before I could mount the horse.
It is the warmth in the East that sets your heart on fire and mingle with the passion burning on your lips as you make that journey towards the junction.
I can see them coming from the East with fire bubbling up in their belly but they quickly pivot to the north to cool the temperature down and change their night gown.
They have been traveling for days with bag packs and mountain hats, they hurry to refill their dry water bottles to wet their cracked lips and soaked their dry feet in Epsom salt.
I watched them searching for words to express how they feel but the words couldn't come out and tears began to flow. Each one has a story to tell of how they escape from the bottom of the well and how the night fire and the woodland character shaped their personality.
It was a journey that no one could bear and it was packed with misery and fear, the woodland ,sound, the wicked witch crown and the woodpecker frowning at the bush doctor, the owl at nights created a symphony that ruins everyone's appetite and the philistine buried under the rubble crying out for help created a mountain of troubles.
When darkness prowl around at night everyone sits still and listen to cracking trees and the birds talking to each other. I sat their listening to the bag packers' story and as they re-call their experience my spirit grows stronger and the north wind began to blow and cooled down the temperature
See them coming from the north riding on their bountiful horses, they are going to the junction to join the celebration. There is a along line of car behind you and one Infront of you, you have got to bake the special cake and take it to the junction before it's too late.
Meet me at the Junction and I will show you where the figure stands. The road is joined into two at the junction.
Dew sprays the wind on every bough
As crimson drapes are drawn with night,
The season’s hours come... to endow
Colors of springtime’s pure delight.
I trace how April bursts anew
From grasses brushed in lemon-corn
Where heady mists etch palette’s hue;
That now, dusk’s warmth finds life reborn...
Melodies of hummingbirds share
In a pageant of woodland charm;
While trees spill fragrance everywhere
Releasing scented dew-laced balm...
Verdant the birthing of a hill,
To claim pure joy from winter’s grim;
For I am lured by spring's goodwill
Alive with rapture... to the brim!
Spring Time Contest of Alexis Y.
3/20/2017
a Walk in-
the woods with debussy's
prelude to the afternoon
in my ears
time stands still
the warmth of the sun
music echoing amongst trees
the chant
of songbirds
oh peace and tranquility embrace
the benedictine monks
of santa domingo
a single melodic note
sung in unison
I listen to the ocean surf
the wild
cascading
waves
sweeping
me away
in the voice of nature
time
stands
still
meditation with bach and beethoven
mozart's concerto shuman's fantasy
the piano enchants me
the violins take me away
I am oneness with earth
trees that touch the sky bring
serenity
tranquility
time stands still
morning elegance
storms and wind and soft rain
hidden mountain retreats
enchanted meadows swaying
wild thunder songbird serenades
nightfall's cloak wolves calling
hidden coves and woodland ferns
moss clinging and wild flowers growing
in meadows
blowing hair
picker of buttercups
daisies
dandelions
life is chaotic and confusing
I find the serene and peaceful
amongst ponds and streams
listening to classical music
oh listen to the loons
________________________
January 7, 2016
Free Verse
Entered in the contest, Your Best Free Verse
sponsor, A Poet Destroyer
Seventh Place
Entered in the contest, Free Verse Extravaganza
sponsor, Catie Lindsey
Did not place
A woodland path in the dappled sun, hushed and quiet!
My soul is gratified as I meander midst its colorful riot!
Another glorious autumn has burst forth in all its splendor!
The Creator displays a vista no mere artist would dare render!
Gentle zephyrs stir eddies of colorful leaves along the way.
A myriad of wild flowers greet me with their brilliant display.
Trees that a short while ago offered welcome summer shade,
Now lift barren arms as if in prayer sans their leaves of jade.
Not a cloud mars the pristine blue of the Colorado sky.
A skein of geese wing southward sounding their plaintive cry.
Stately Colorado spruce 'neath which deer now gambol and browse,
Will soon have garlands of snow adorning their spreading boughs.
The shrill blare of an elk startles me from my reverie,
As he calls for a mate with his ever sovereign plea.
I pause on a nearby knoll to view yon shimmering lake,
Teeming with graceful ducks, guarded by a magnificent drake!
Foolish poets and artists have strived to portray each season.
They have tried and failed because of a very real reason.
Only He Who is the Master Artist and ruler over all,
Will ordain the beauty of the seasons, especially the exquisite fall!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Ancient and mysterious woodland bear,
medieval tranquility and flair.
Heaven sylvan scenery colour share,
massive sprays of bloom flowers scent the air.
Twisty esker gravel ridge, lie through their
beautiful valleys, woods, and bower square.
Echoes of aged venerable prayer ,
lull under trees and gardens, with vast air,
with such depth of love that may never err.
Complete empowering of life we share,
while softly scented zephyrs blew and stare.
Oodles buzzing bees through oleander,
hummingbirds thirst honeysuckle nectar.
Under venerable dome they appear
ancient and mysterious woodland bear.
5/17/2016
Celebration of Las Animas
The shadows know
When I shout into the void
Of obsession’s chaos that swallows even darkness,
Fractured light in jaundiced eyes,
Where withering blasts of winter hibernate in masquerades,
Promises lay in crumpled thoughts of raging anxieties
To crumple wings stilled by grief’s passages
Of flawed conscience.
My gentle shepherd, who walks in the brittle solstice garden,
Whispers to this stubborn lamb of irrepressible forgiveness
With healing that unites a divided soul chasing eulogy
To float upon the flowing tide, the River Agape,
Dewdrops of compassion in solitude’s metamorphosis -
Ebony’s iris nightfall – weave an arras in twilight’s hush
Where scented leaves of solitude and grace
Celebrate in welcomed cleansing wind and fire.
Released from perfectionism’s chains by perfect perfection,
Through radiating renewal on the Samaritan’s road,
Solitude’s incense from ash groves inhales metamorphosis,
Seasoned with the breath of mercy in shadowy first light
As dawn quietly peeks through the pink blush of epiphany,
Leaves behind ominous – footsteps of midnight –
Sweeping away bittersweet thunderheads on stone spires -
Finale of my seclusion.
In preludes to all things bright and wonderful
Rebirth, renewal, tethers me to new psalms
Scrubbing clean overgrown graffiti on my woodland wall
New anima stretches out in one moment of time and space
Navigating unexplored islands in the broiling stream
By argent rainbows in cornucopia’s of charity
To untangle knots of errant threads through life’s keepsake tapestry
Eternal Emmanuel, radiant message, face of amazing grace.
2-24-22
Contest: Form F – Free Verse
Sponsor: Constance La France
Theme: Life
Animas means life – communication of the spirit with the subconscious.
Where are the magpies?
Where the ruined cathedrals
where are the birds
that once made their homes
in the hollow heads of saints?
Here all dwell in the new or the old
the days between are bulldozed,
the waste rubble resold.
Crowds seek out boarded-up exits
other crowds construct entrances
for new homes
that when assembled resemble all other's.
I need a hill to howl upon.
The land is flat, even the water is flat.
Mountains are small or not at all.
Yet there are midnight Magpies,
there are crows cawing in woodland churches.
Mythical back-eyed catbirds roam
from home to home. Many places are
not condemned to the newfangled
and yet still unoriginal.
Some magpie nests and appear almost near,
just under the eaves of a middling nowhere.
Nestled deep in the tawny, drab woodland
Sedate cottage neither haughty nor grand
Sparse hovel of unassuming, itinerant brigand
Martial decor of detached highwayman starkly bland
The etched path sculpted by intemperate hand
No manicured garden on the scrubby strand
Briers and brambles errant straggler must withstand
Thatched clapboards stable his stallion firebrand
Unruly swine garnish acorns from scraggly wasteland
Buried deep in his cellar pilfered contraband
Per chance drifter did the terrain assay
And chose that toilsome, forsaken way
A spartan welcome hauteur did convey
No lodgings, accoutrements could sway
If for grace, mercy they did pray
Only a cold shoulder he did relay
If they tested his temperance and sued for trite parley
He reconnoitered their belongings through wordplay
If no net value they were beguiled to betray
Their worthless lives he did indignantly slay
I am riding on determination and courage,
Going to cross the mysterious woodland.
Across the river, I met with luck and opportunity.
"Don’t go there alone," they warned me,
"For many before you went,
But lost their lives in the dim light of the dreary forest.
The ways are ambiguous,
The paths are winding,
And haunting sounds echo through the air.
Ride with us—leave behind determination and courage.
We’ll give you a smooth journey,
Free of afflictions and troubles.
The woods know us well,
And we’ll turn the woodland into a wonderland."
I paused for a while and closed my eyes.
My mouth was silent, but my heart began to speak:
"Graceful and successful people always choose the difficult path.
They do not rely on luck and opportunity—
And that makes all the difference.
Triumph demands courage and determination,
Not luck and opportunity."
I opened my eyes with renewed resolution
And a clearer vision.
I continued my journey with courage and determination,
Leaving luck and opportunity behind.