Vine Poems - Poems about Vine

Seven and one, open gates! Zero, cancel wild! He who suffers, first berates! Listen, auld to child! Errors of the prophets? By necessity, none. Perfect record, get the fits? Oracle, scion, pun? Ergo, O my time and space! As above, below! Meteor, dark fire, displace. Broken, O my bow... Dread, thy bed. Bend back, bring. Born. Death, thy sacred sand. Dagger, axe, hell, heaven, horn. Doom within all, planned... Falcon, fix...

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The wild wisteria's vine in winter Sends its roots out and deep It draws up moisture and rich nutrients To prepare for coming spring As in each rest period of winter It goes deeper into the rich earth So, its shoots can gain momentum To reach for the sun when spring touches earth When all is ready in spring And winter disappears The plant searches...

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She is eighteen and tattoos are the latest rage." I'd like a tattoo please" she asks. I see a young girl in a messy ponytail and wonder if she'll pick something gaudy, then I will have to oblige. The boldness of youth can appear so uncouth yet reveal so much truth. "I want a tattoo...

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twisted and bare, yet still it clings to crumbling stone and frozen things the winds may howl, the frost may bite but deep in its veins, the sap burns bright silent it waits, patient and wise under the hush of ashen skies snow weighs heavy on fragile bone but roots hold strong beneath the stone no bloom, no green, no velvet leaf only the...

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A vine in the winter, a beautiful sight A thought worth a think on a cold winter night Glistening 'neath a starlit sky Unbeknownst to its viewer this vine may well die The vine might have cried had it eyes to do so But it didn't have the luxury to let it all go The vine has no mouth or a...

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The snow is cold and frozen like souls Buried beneath in tombs black holes But you are still among the living There is time yet for thanks giving Hope is a vine in wintertime It’s warmth like sun melting clementines Hard hearts and frigid times Renewing our nourishing minds Improving our faith in divine Healing by creating a path From bitterness...

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Note-Practice Run in the barren days of winter a leafless vine wraps herself into his arms wildly and calling climbing his walls and trellises as snow and ice overhang white on white creepers on creepers evergreen possessing his face with ivy clinging closer invasive and resolute destroying other suitors in his garden bed the friction of weather is cold but hot … yearning to spring connie pachecho 2/22/25...

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Withered wishes lick the sap of spring and loose all they've held, except all that dared to winter in a heart that clings where hope's tendrils grow tired and brittle and still ~ in their final vestige of existence, braved the relentless frosts and hold firm, even in their death, the supple youth that will bear the fruits of ...

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denuded of foliage left with the bare essence of my existence a gnarled unassuming frame from which new life will burst forth in spring firmly anchored in fertile soil the terroir for the vineyard selected with care basking in the watery winter sun incapable of turning my head for the best aspect consoling myself with the fact that my tender tri-lobed...

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The dry stem of a lonesome vine of vivacity, now painfully curled, rooted frozen, entwining the desiccated verdant veins, sways chilled in the winter wind of desolation. The sleeping passion of exuberance, painting a picture of comatose entity, impresses none, finds no frame, droops down uncoiled. Dormant emotions flicker like candle flame in freezing gale, the crumpled vine suffers...

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A Vine in Winter – 2-18-25 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A Vine in Winter January wakes Whispers with kisses of snow In floating bits of crystals Catching weak beams of sunlight Glinting on Lovestones of the misty isles Where dewdrops quiver Beneath the wand of hoarfrosts. Tendrils colored in evergreen, Not beholden to time or seasons Or hibernation’s demand, pulse. Silent lianas, Protector of the vernal resurrection, With quilts of tender tendrils, Weaves a...

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A vine in winter… stripped of its leafy clothes shivers in forlorn silence as it sways and scrapes at the colorless sky. She walks alone… in a barren, winter field hoping to find a way past her tears stinging tears, of loss and sadness burdening and weighing her down. A sudden choking chill of frost… descends upon the vine frozen fingers cling...

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Sleeping, my darling. Laid out, my sweetheart. Cold. Memories of springtime, sappy. Doormat, dormant. Tolerance in the hush of Winter. No hurry to bud. A vine in Winter; Winter is slow. Just how I like it. Nutrients, in a nutshell; the soil spoils me with its richness. I shake and sip through a straw; divine all the royalties, whilst sleeping, dreaming of a...

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the way it all ended up tells the story but where did it begin? you can't begrudge me solid footing welcoming a vine or two post Spring no more than ankle height God it felt good not to drift no path changes or perspective shifts you don't notice it creeping Summer thrills of ankles to shins to thighs it has a nice...

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The sky never complains about the storms, but homes clusters of things we’ve lost~ to form a canopy of comfort, amidst electric threads, suffocating in silence. When cold is the air ~ tender and crisp, cradling the gold within jinxed jasmines, aching for a rosier rise of the sun, as clouds sigh reveries, tinged with tears, wreathed in...

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