I took the wrong turn where the sycamores grow,
With no map in my hand and nowhere to go.
The road was untravelled, a quiet mistake,
For the sake of the turning, for destiny’s sake.
Then I saw you, just standing, caught in the rain,
A fortuitous meeting that severed the pain.
Not planned by the hours, not set by the clock,
Just a gentle collision—a fortunate shock.
Now our garden is lush, though we planted no seed,
For the wind brings the blossom that the spirit may need.
And the beauty we hold, in this wild, blessed place,
Is the accidental wonder of finding your face.
"Every enigmatic environment enlists enlightened emotions" Quote by The Poet
Spectacular silvery spangled, star studded sky, so serene.
Under universal utterances uniquely unabashed, unseen.
Wildest wind wails when weakened, was welcomed warm weather.
Trees towering, trying to triumphantly touch together.
Serendipitous splendor soothes soulful scenes.
Gracefully groomed, growing greens.
Lustrous light looms, lasting like lingering lanterns.
Youthful yellowing, yet yesterday yearns.
Moonbeams meander, mesmerized midst melting moments.
Extraterrestrial elements enlist exponents.
Frenzied fireflies flutter, fulfilling fanciful florescent flashes.
Sparkling, swishing splashes.
Sycamores sway sweetly, so subdued, sounds softly sweep.
Calm clarity closely causes comfort, combinations creep.
Sporadically straying, sadly sets sorrow so steep.
I wonder, if glass-winged venus of psalms,
Shed soft serenades on chirping bird's nest,
Would alpha centauri's edenic balms
Coat my saturn-sage skin with glacial crest?
Maybe, my turquoise-ink's tomb is ablaze,
In lazuline embers of universe,
Tracing fluorescence of rose on heart's phase,
As sycamores in midnight's metaverse
Moors of love echo, 'bonjour, heaven-blend",
Draped in opal peonies and mauve fog,
As hope-rings of gold, shine in healing's mend,
And I rise in starworld of fairy's vogue
I revolve around mermaid-moon's beacon,
For serendipity in mortal scars,
Like twilight's arc, in sunsets of saffron,
Embraced zenith, as an angelic star
I'm an earthling-ash of pearl's poesy,
Ephemeral as strokes of blushed bluesy.
Autumn Princess was the best releaser in her clan.
So she won the honor of becoming royalty in September.
She released leaves from oaks, elms, and sycamores.
She released the wind, allowing it to reign the cold skies.
She was a great selection, a scarlet cardinal said.
I keep trying to get into a cage for winter though.
And she keeps releasing me, not realizing I want to be taken inside.
To be cherished through the winter months when the frost comes.
Why don’t you fly south instead? Someone asked.
I can’t, the cardinal admitted.
I am in love with Autumn Princess.
I cannot leave her side.
The biggest thing about Harvey Elephant was his fear.
He was afraid of zebras, fox, muskrats, opossums, even a deer.
He was terrified of oak trees, willows and sycamores too.
His mother asks, “What in the world are you going to do?”
He can’t go to the city, his father says. “He is afraid of glass.”
“He is also afraid of horns, sirens, electricity and cars that take gas.”
He could be a computer nerd and work by himself someone says.
“Great except he is afraid of computers,” said his cousin Inez.
golden chestnut browns sparkling against natures reds and yellows
oaks, maples, sycamores, pregnant with autumn leaves
mammoth round topped giants peppering the countryside
climbed maybe in our youth, but many limbs are way up high
new hampshire is a showcase of beauty in october
before her mountains lose their variegated spotted leaves
walnuts, acorns and almonds are falling now
into the open paws of excited happy squirrels
Sycamores standing bold and naked
Leafless limbs facing the chilly breeze
Without broad leaves appear wasted,
Sycamores standing bold and naked
As stanchions are almost over-rated,
Still the most imposing of all the trees
Sycamores standing bold and naked
Leafless limbs facing the chilly breeze.
Written November 15, 2022
scarlet streaks of fair haired beauty across my transparent window
eager inspection shows ribbons of orange a bubble of yellow
new hampshire’s elms, oaks and sycamores are bursting
I feel humbled by the ultimate painter’s canvas
this ethereal painting cannot be replicated by mere man
squirrel stands for one second; is he admiring the scenery?
he pounces on walnut and is immediately rolled by an opponent
they scamper up the tree’s bark in a diagonal dance
other seasons cannot hope to compete with beauty of November
autumn rainbow jubilee
shades of autumn burst
colorful hillside hues ~
inner fire of fall
umber oaks shed leaves
tall forest giants shiver ~
sleepy acorns doze
fiery scarlet leaves
sugar maples glow like coals ~
flurries of orange
fall breeze fantasies
gold flutters from aspen trees ~
overcoats of snow
birch trees ochre leaves
black and white tuxedo bark ~
kinglets swing on boughs
multi-colored leaves
rainbows green pink and saffron ~
sycamores spread fruit
shapely hickory
furrowed dark grey scaly bark ~
squirrels hide tree nuts
spiny light brown pods
autumn storms harvest chestnuts ~
cold reigns in raindrops
autumn jubilee
bounty of leaves nuts and seeds ~
beauty walks the earth
10-27-22
after all,
sycamores shed leaves
in the fall,
standing tall
revealing its bare branches
awaiting first snow
gathering
large sycamore seeds
in autumn
is a pain
burying the grass alive
in prickly texture
frightening
stark ghost-like branches
sycamores
playing dead
all through the dreary winter
returning next spring
fully leaved
in big hand-like fronds
bringing shade,
sycamores
are spring and summer delights
squirrels love them, too
FINALIST
"Poem in the Style of E E Cummings" Poetry Contest
All Poetry, November 7, 2022
Written September 2, 2022
FRONT PAGE PICK
All Poetry
November 8, 2022
I was born to breathe free, outdoors
count my rings and you will know how old I am
I come from a family of sycamores
I own a massive trunk when eagles soar
they perch upon my branch they do yes mam
although my roots run deep inside the floor
I am durable with growth you can't ignore
my peels are white, tan and green dear Sam
adaptable in most soils I outlive the albacore
I prefer direct sun and in Egyptian folklore
I am also known as the Holy Tree of man
connecting both worlds now forevermore
Often found by river beds by open shore
my bulk is sensitive without sham
I was born to breathe free, outdoors
I come from a family of sycamores
Sept 2, 2022
morning sky dawning
golden hues filtering through
sycamores praying
written July 1, 2022
We must not rebuke the winds conspiring
Together in early spring to bring us mirth
The songs of trembling leaves inspiring
We must not rebuke the winds conspiring
The oaks and sycamores rapidly attiring
Reminding us spring is the season of rebirth
We must not rebuke the winds conspiring
Together in early spring to bring us mirth.
written April 25, 2022
There’s nothing so fine as a bright April Day
A light breeze blowing through the sycamores
The backyard squirrels have come out to play,
An adventure kind of day I can’t stay indoors.
Chores to be done, but spring fever has struck
The meadow beckons for an afternoon stroll,
Then to the riverbank where fish are jumping
It’s clear the past winter on most took its toll.
Sickness and quarantines difficult, to be sure,
But we’re learning how to live with this flu --
Surely, they’ll come up with a permanent cure,
In the meantime, there’s nothing better to do,
For I am rejuvenated out in the warm April sun
Life must be seasoned with some old-fashioned fun.
FIFTH PLACE WINNER
written April 19, 2022
"Anything You Want" poetry contest
Sponsored by Chantelle Anne Cooke
A kiss of midnight bliss
Holding hands as dawn dawning
Must be encouraging must be from above
True feeling of love
And embrace of afternoon Fair
Sunlight touching my forehead
Beautiful surroundings embracing me
Evening comes must be love
Elms embrace me
Sycamores adore
Apple pie eyes to see the rainbows in the skies
This is some of the true feelings of love
1/15/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2022
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.