Oaks Poems - Poems about Oaks

"The Wife's Lament" or "The Wife's Complaint" is an Old English/Anglo Saxon poem found in the Exeter Book, which has been dated to 960-990 AD, making it the oldest English poetry anthology. "The Wife's Lament" may be the oldest extant English poem written by a female poet. The Wife's Lament loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch I...

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steadfast, the wrinkled strong arms of the old oaks, remain invincible in handshake - firm grip. the lightning, rain & gusts cannot separate the best of friends....

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How quickly they scurry each November among ancient oaks. Jaws holding the treasures they hoard in domestic holes. Flicking bushy tails while finding acorns and cones in woodland delis. November 7, 2022 A November Nonet Contest Sponsored by Andrea Dietrich...

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“The Turning of Leaves” While walking down a Forest trail I came upon A most beautiful sight Much to my delight A forest floor covered In multitudes Of yellows, oranges, And crimson reds. Fluttering about on a chiffon breeze These jewels from summer’s past fell Stitching blankets for queens As they lie in midnight dreams I stopped along...

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Pin oaks unfurl golden flags in September Until they stand starkly naked and proud While the ground is carpeted, I remember, Strong autumn breezes their heads bowed Hovering over the bare limbs quivering Until they stand starkly naked and proud. Soon the forest is prepared for shivering Pin oaks anticipate a woolen blanket of snow, Hovering over the bare limbs quivering. A woodland stripped...

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Upon arrival Forest Antler Ghost of the Oaks shook the leaves She tweaked some of the mosses, so they were a bit springier She gave love to the woodland violets and mushrooms The north wind and the oaks always sensed her arrival. They spruced themselves up a bit; the faeries were unsure They felt something but were not able to...

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So many preludes, yet so little time unanswered questions, tall mountains to climb. Basking in wisdom, oft arrogance shown; given scruples, we precariously own. Life but the prelude to beautiful songs finding its way amidst nature's vast throngs. Old oaks and blossoms sprung from single seeds preludes: seedlings of life's impatient needs. Chapter upon chapter our lives peruse good and evil choosing which...

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acorn faerie flirting with the browns and reds of autumn oak trees appreciate her lightness recognizing a kindred spirit allowing her freedoms they rarely give to brownies or elves...

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Miracle Soul Keeper of the Listening Oaks such a glimmer of hope glowing with fruition and joy unseen by humans always felt by empaths feared by unscrupulous crones Miracle Soul Keeper of the Listening Oaks She who nurtures the forest replenishing her starts An ethereal mist cloaks her effervescent innocence hunters parade past unaware Miracle Soul Keeper of the Listening Oaks fearless and timeless guarding...

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Its a home provided by two Some from me and some from you A serene place ,yet often loud A place called home , which we are proud Many have stopped just to pass us by Yet its this old home that we can rely The walls are crumbling,& the floor is damp wet No theirs not any holes atleast none...

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I was going to a haunted house, a ghoulish affair Advertised in town with signs noting, "BEWARE." They were posted with this cautionary warning: "If you enter, there will be reasons for mourning. Zombies will haunt you; you'll shiver with fright. Vampires will be feasting this Halloween night!" I drove to the site, looking forward to each hoax but stopped when I...

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Coffin dodgers and nursing home lodgers, wrinklies, pensioners and plain old codgers. A drain on society, archaic models of piety, bed blockers, youth knockers, paragons of sobriety. But is all that we see, all that it seems, the elderly, like you, still have hopes and dreams. Still carry the baton for tomorrow's youth, the keepers of history, the sentinels of truth. Though the...

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Under my Refuge A canopy of Oaks Sheltering from the blazing sunshine Sheltering from the sweltering heat That has put me to flight To seek the solace of trees Too much brightness, too much light On this summers day The trees are wilting They have no water to drink As on the grounds leaves are falling Carpeting the ground The crow squawks for water To quench its...

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oaks intertwined way her bramble tree clutches the air a maze in motion...

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Woods In the green woods no path has direction decay is a form of progress and despite all the circumspection 'Getting there" wouldn't be understood. It's true, ants industrialize, and squirrels very middle-class bank on the prodigal oaks. But the fashion is baroque--tulips like venetian glass, birds ignite on every branch, each elm has Restoration sleeves, and the bees and flowers...

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