Palms Poems - Poems about Palms

Island

Island

Soft sand beaches touch the rolling aqua waves
Dense grove of coconut palms reach for the sky

Seeding The Palms

Bury a metaphor
— resurrection assured

(The New Room: April, 2025)

SUNDAY'S SPRING PALMS

Palm branches waving,
symbolizing the coming
of eternal love:-

Kentia Palms Catch a Breeze

Kentia palms catch a breeze
   And sway gently in their rows;
This verdant sanctuary
   Comforts me like the psalms.

I amble slowly between them -
   My head tapped by the fronds.
I feel the warmth of the sun;
   The fresh air fills my lungs.

A kintsugi pot rests on pebbles -

As The Palms Sway

Blowing you a cherry kiss
From 3000 miles away
Know you are adored and missed
As the palms sway

Feeling your masculinity 
In every winged word you say
Drowning in your denim divinity
As the palms sway

Leaving all indigo inhibitions
Like a child at peach play
Pure love amber ammunition 
As the palms sway

Let rainbows paint my soul
As yellow you brighten my day
And

Palms

Palm trees stand up strong
Admiring beauty around.
Ladies of the seas,
Models for cute scenery, 
Struck by wild winds ~they're fighters~

'Neath The Palms

For so long, I wondered my life ‘neath the palms
                                  A tropical climax to gild golden years
Each breeze would embellish my thoughts

In the universe of the two rooms, she gathers her dreams between her palms

In the universe of the two rooms, she gathers her dreams between her palms,
She lets her fired hair descend upon the folds of our fleeting time.
"It's the end," she articulates with a voice sipping from the last silences,
Through the mirror in which we have often been born and died together.
I watch as she spreads the

The City of Palms

I am hurt. 
Not by you,
by what you didn't do. 
I am mad. 
Not because of you,
Because of how I felt when I was with you.
I am sad. 
Not because I lost you,
Because I lost my dreams with you.
I love you
But I love the idea of you more.

Love the man who carries your laughter in his palms as if it were a wandering star

Love the man who carries your laughter in his palms as if it were a wandering star,
Love the soul that gifts you moments, and not just ephemeral masks of happiness.
Love the heart that boasts about you to strangers when you're not there,
Love the one who knows the difference between mere desire and the sudden blaze

Let your palms be the last twilight

Let your palms be the last twilight,
Which covers my heart with the shroud of repose,
Draping the white silence, an ancestral vestment, at dusk,
Rest that descends over a world forgotten by the living.
May your gaze, the everlasting starry night,
Illuminate the universe that has lain in eternal slumber,
There my soul ascends and in turn ties its wing,
Where

MY PALMS WOUNDED IN BATTLE

rain taunted the mood
one drop at a time
like sand through the hourglass
no snow in no man’s land
only poured out
on top of decrepit heads
with expectations over
said heads
it’s snowing too deep
my knees are weak
where is the honor
of contentment
when buried six feet under
the flood…
I float above the fray
holding my hands out
as oil fills my cups -
my palms wounded

Slip Through Palms

The rote shivery wind is Winter's maid—
she breaks heart to own the season's floor;
via frost's degrees in my throat,
while my glean lancet's chills burn.
I tape her over my
skin; my fingers in
our stitches show—
her peel true.
Gloves are
off.

Palms

Falling from an architect's malleable beacon, entranced by the glow of bold insight, 
a dream but a fiction so seamlessly seeming but a fraction of semblance to ones own light.
In the sea is a swelling, a voluptuous wisdom, a grain of the planes a boulder in sand, 
what is spoken is maybe a tempestuous spell,

Inscribed On Palms

Every hand tells a story
    life's adventures inscribed on palms
  Lines of wisdom, hints of psalms

  Yet destiny wears out her rhymes
    on riverbanks of sorrow
  Dreams not lent nor borrowed

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