Orchard Poems - Poems about Orchard

Life has an odd habit of making you miss old street curbs and stop signs. The street I miss the most though has to be that cross-street between the crab apple orchard and my friend Jackson’s house. Something about that place felt infinite. And something about sometimes friends feels greater than sometimes. Would I go back? Absolutely not....

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I ate a tangy orange today— its honeyed nectar pulled me back, to the orchard, where the air danced with citrus and sunlight. That tangy, sweet fragrance brought back a rush of memories: childhood days of spraying peels, stinging our eyes, saying, “It’ll make your eyes brighter,” each sting a playful dare. I see my mother now, drying the peels on the windowsill. What spell was...

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The sky scatters pixie dust~ across orchards of dragonflies; while in sunflowers, the stars do trust, tracing tales through kohl-lit eyes. A fairy cloaked in soft florals~ fragranced moon-mists and rhinestone rust. But within veins of golden corals, she weaves hope with saffron crust. ...

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When the leaves of autumn take a breather, they fall dropping colored reminders of their curtain call. Winter's bare branches show the icy pall of death - but underneath lie seeds waiting for a first breath. With the advent of spring comes forth revenant life; shoots from those same branches are abundantly rife. Skipping through the weeks to summer, from...

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"Your task is not to seek love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it." Rumi She sits near the peach orchard Waits to take love's calloused hand Autumn's leaves are nearly gone Winter's cold wind on life lands Whispers in soft twilight glow As snow on the mountains fall Memories like...

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In sunlit fields where olive trees grow, Vincent wandered, mind aglow. The blue of skies, a restless sea, Matched the turmoil he longed to free. The cypresses stood tall and proud, Dark green fingers, reaching the cloud. They whispered secrets to the breeze, Of madness, pain, and transient peace. Golden hues of wheat did dance, In the light’s eternal trance. A vivid orange, a burning...

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Apples turning pink neighbor's yard...

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Orchard Smudging Written: by Miracle Man 3/28/2024 When, heavy frost was forecast, for all the area and reaches. Orchards would burn smudge pots, trying to save their peaches. A northwesterly wind whispers, through recently budding trees. We pray the temps don’t fall, and the peach buds don’t freeze. Smudging is not widely practiced today due to health concerns. ...

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The quotes say's kill them with kindness, so you offer the most righteous kind of kindness you can, And they take that kindness that you so carefully cultivated and nurtured, And with gates wide open you allow them to freely pick from your kindness Orchard, But through arrogance and greed they take advantage of this act of kindness, Taking more...

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I am a fruit in the orchard fully blossomed flourish fully bloomed ~ so I am of mine Father plants His breath in me alive am I a... ~ fruit of my Father heart Breath of His Breath flower He's my strong tower 12/29/23 Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2023...

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Written: November 05, 2023 ________________________________________ Amidst spotless linen rosebuds I observe you blazing a fire In the core of a volcano's lair slithering glissading laughing Queen of the Sun, Queen of Earth angels shielding you with their wings to quench one's thirst for my vital breath. A warm deluge of...

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Sunlight gleams through the branches of the trees, Running feet rumbling the soft ground, Clusters of red among the green leaves. Children laughing, being chased by bees, Snapping off apples, firm and round, Sunlight gleams through the branches of the trees. The smell of cider wafting in the breeze, Wishing the orchard was open year-round , Clusters of red among the green leaves. Dads...

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The old wooden gate is inviting. A testament to the careful hands of a previous owner. It squeals a greeting as the celtic filigree moss yields to my presence. I discard my footwear, seeing the need to connect with the fertile green mat of welcome. Apples hang like fragile bejewelled baubles, sweet and dew laden. A translucent moist...

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Lorca Translations III Federico Garcia Lorca (1898-1936) was a Spanish poet, playwright and theater director. He was assassinated by Nationalist forces at the beginning of the Spanish Civil War and his body was never found. Paisaje (“Landscape”) by Federico Garcia Lorca loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The olive orchard opens and closes like a fan; above the grove a sunken sky dims; a dark...

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("Cherry Blossom Chi", 2023, original encaustic) Becoming Familiar One branch stands out on the fruiting tree yet the valley is filled with orchards in bloom. What is genius in time becomes the norm more through familiarity than hard work. But it makes me wonder who do I emulate and if even they can be followed. For me at least, the effort is an excuse for the genuine becoming familiar. (5/9/2022, originally published in...

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