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"catkin" poems
Laying flat on the shadowed ground Of the meadow that holds my sanity,  I stare up into the glistening moon As it glances upon the wet tree tops. The grass scraping the back of my neck  Begins to freeze to that of an iceberg  With the cool crisp wind  With the shivering leaves. My mind begins to wonder from my surroundings To what clenches my heart at night,  To the devils that tore me down, To the angels that tried hard to fix me. My thoughts numb as if from the temperature, Sending tingles up my spine And horror into my mind As all feeling ceases to exist.  A rapid breath escapes my chapped lips. A rapid breath like the harsh wind Now whipping through the lonely willow, The one weeping loudly by my side. The sky turns into a black mess, Flipping from its once clear blue state. Blinding lines fill the sky, Imitating the roots of a flower. But it is not a delicate flower. It is destruction As it hits the shaking tree, Forcing it to crash onto the once sunny meadow. It hits the dancing grass With a bang and a thud, But not before the scream, My scream, escapes from my throat. I do not fear for my life here; I fear for the willow. The willow that is so much like my beaten heart, The willow that I care about more then the voices  In the forest behind me that command me to run. Getting on my knees, I crawl across the mud Until I reach the dying willow That rests surrounded by clanging lights. Stroking the trunk of the tree,  I let out a sob that catches in my tight throat. The willow's brittle bark crumbles as I touch it, Leaving a brown dust on the tips of my fingers. With blurred sight, I search the tree. I search it for any sign of life. One lone catkin hangs from the side of a branch; I reach for it with my stained hand. Delicately, I wind my fingers around the dry flower. Smiling down at the last thing to bloom from the ****** willow, I pluck it from the branch and stare at the storm above my head. I start to wonder what the thundering storm meant. Tightening my sweaty palm, I crush the catkin. I crush it with resent and a need for revenge. Revenge for my ****** willow; The one that will never return to health.
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Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 1:36 PM UTC
The Willow
Laying flat on the shadowed ground Of the meadow that holds my sanity,  I stare up into the glistening moon As it glances upon the wet tree tops. The grass scraping the back of my neck  Begins to freeze to that of an iceberg  With the cool crisp wind  With the shivering leaves. My mind begins to wonder from my surroundings To what clenches my heart at night,  To the devils that tore me down, To the angels that tried hard to fix me. My thoughts numb as if from the temperature, Sending tingles up my spine And horror into my mind As all feeling ceases to exist.  A rapid breath escapes my chapped lips. A rapid breath like the harsh wind Now whipping through the lonely willow, The one weeping loudly by my side. The sky turns into a black mess, Flipping from its once clear blue state. Blinding lines fill the sky, Imitating the roots of a flower. But it is not a delicate flower. It is destruction As it hits the shaking tree, Forcing it to crash onto the once sunny meadow. It hits the dancing grass With a bang and a thud, But not before the scream, My scream, escapes from my throat. I do not fear for my life here; I fear for the willow. The willow that is so much like my beaten heart, The willow that I care about more then the voices  In the forest behind me that command me to run. Getting on my knees, I crawl across the mud Until I reach the dying willow That rests surrounded by clanging lights. Stroking the trunk of the tree,  I let out a sob that catches in my tight throat. The willow's brittle bark crumbles as I touch it, Leaving a brown dust on the tips of my fingers. With blurred sight, I search the tree. I search it for any sign of life. One lone catkin hangs from the side of a branch; I reach for it with my stained hand. Delicately, I wind my fingers around the dry flower. Smiling down at the last thing to bloom from the ****** willow, I pluck it from the branch and stare at the storm above my head. I start to wonder what the thundering storm meant. Tightening my sweaty palm, I crush the catkin. I crush it with resent and a need for revenge. Revenge for my ****** willow; The one that will never return to health.
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Bookends with fatty livers and bad backs squinting at instructions for another **** fool distraction and the laughing, thankfully On the walk, bees, butterflies, catkin reminders of time and loops and irregular pooping as constants Thankfully, laughing requires just enough muscles from those that still work, but I’ll feel it tomorrow
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Mar 26, 2022
Mar 26, 2022 at 9:23 AM UTC
The youth say bff
Love is this... ....... ............ ,,,,, catkin feet rotating the underdressed night under a casino wheel of stars ..........or else a Tempest of Soul loud as a fishmonger ...............99p cola bottles & lonesome underdogs .............that time you laughed on helium ... 'fuck me' neon signs in the street ...................sweet onion breath delirium .................Millais's Ophelia all wasted & peeling from suburban billboards. ......................the time Virginia Woolf drowned & all the birds forgot how to sing in Greek. ..............are we there yet ..............are we feeling the beat, beat, beat ..............of this raindrop .........................do we need postage stamps. ................................why is your neighbor called Pete. .........why did you kick a dog, Mamma. ............nothing is that which is understood ............why are you staring at this poem.
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Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 12:44 PM UTC
Love is this
When the earth in Spring and all the yellows are nearly green exploding ripe the catkin maple seeds hung for flitting sparrows When swift the clouds dark, with pelting rain of droplets wet pooling in the hollows As the clouds give way to sun move hurriedly to fill the day with light there where tiny budding leaves are greening in the shadows
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Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 9:45 AM UTC
The greening Spring
Shine.. Shine like the morning sun Shine like the dazzling meadows Shine like the autumn catkin Shine like the spring Delonix regia Shine like the evening star Shine like the full moon Shine…
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Aug 8, 2021
Aug 8, 2021 at 1:40 AM UTC
Shine..
(for Glynn) Singing breeze Singing breeze Carrying nothing Kissed by sunlight Carry my wishes Scatter my troubles Leave the grey highway Slip through the forest Birch and pine Needle and catkin Shutting the sky out Speckles of sunlight Evening sky How many colours How many colours Woodsmoke and silence Unsleeping river Silence and river Wanting to share this Beautifully lonely Only I saw it Only I held it Stop this stone rolling Let the moss gather Living as leaf-fall Living as boulder Keener than snowmelt Fuller than August Cradle of tree roots Mantle of mountain Granite horizon Breezes will soothe you Whispering breezes Will you be listening Do you hear singing Do you hear forests
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Apr 1, 2011
Apr 1, 2011 at 11:20 AM UTC
An Laoigh
I rise aloft above the springtime scene Of ***** grey browns and softest greens As from the twig new life is born Of catkin,leaf and newborn fawn And dotted here and there clusters of white Mewling lambs born in the night Busy birds encumbered by grass and twig Eager to create a place to live A nest so architecturally built Lined with down so soft and sweet And so the golden daffodil A golden jewel in springtime sun Her face a picture of delight From dull green to gold in dark of night This then is natures way Gone now winters grey cold Welcome springs warm days
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Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 5:09 PM UTC
Goodbye Winter Blues
**When I sing my songs by the willow tree He'll listen to the words and smile down at me The willow tree, he loves to groove his dance As he sings our songs in a loving trance The dwarf willow joins and sings the song and dance He's so odd, he never had a chance Dancing willows groove to my guitar Dancing willows move as well as the stars Male catkin grows right by my side The willows smile, keep the groove on the grass The pretty earth's sentiment will never die Observe the natures through our looking glass We will all come as one and sing the beautiful song Willow trees and flowers make up my only world Dancing, singing, jamming makes my mind just twirl Nature is my nurture, it is where I belong**
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Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 11:34 AM UTC
Sing the Songs of Nature
Full Sun Into delicate aerated soil an age-old seed was planted, an eye destined for greatness. With the slightest spillage of amendment an adventitious spore awoke. A tuber started to grow; a thriller spreading into the beautiful composition of a bicolourous family. Pollination is a pest known to most every gardener, but propagation shall subside. Mulch to conserve is a heavy yolk to bear, but, with determination, pistil too shall become weary. O, Biennial, how I beg thee for more time. Clench thy inflorescent fist, a catkin do not become. Thou hast spread thou roots into my being as an epiphyte. Lo! Single flower, wear thy crown and top-dress with pride - thou art everblooming!
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Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 10:17 AM UTC
Full Sun
i what are you up to speakman or what are you speakman as my teachers might say.. then the wart on their nose that will never go away oh i know you hypocrits we look the other way.. pacif agressive as the happy catkin sway the lith blossom in the breeze..
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Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 7:42 AM UTC
what are you up to speakman
The drizzling wind delights the mind Snow white cloud floats in blue sky. The white catkin has covered the forest Looks like another world. Morning of autumn is very charming Drives away pains from the heart. The martins are playing in the field Rows of boat are tied in the quay. The boys and girls are going to the school in groups The shepherd is running towards the field with the wicker hat on his head. Farmers thrive in the field with all the sickles The village wife is washing the child, in the pool pond. Water lily blossoms in big pond Jasminum flumie, jasminum sambac and mimusops elengi flower fill with sweet aroma. Can you ever see this sort of scene, elsewhere? There is no limit of beauty in the beautiful Bengal.
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Feb 3, 2021
Feb 3, 2021 at 9:39 PM UTC
Autumn morning
As autumn begins entrance, Nature shows its elegance. Lovely catkin and air, Make their artistic pair. Lotus opens her mind, Can sky remain blind? Moon the silver fairy, Looks drunk cheery. Mountain sends mail, White clouds sail. Dewy morning flowers, Attract beauty viewers. Delicacy all around, From sky to the ground. Colorful leaves fall, Making allured all.
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Sep 6, 2023
Sep 6, 2023 at 3:04 AM UTC
Alluring Autumn
cool January soft sound of chattering teeth night of painful rest faint tunes of dew drops hazy February morn sun and transport wait first song of cuckoo melting snow of mountain tops a cool transition bees drone busily spring festival unites all colorful April groan of nor'wester May carries storm and heat spells month of thirst and sweat tunes of first rain drops sun and cloud play hide and seek June brings hope of crops downpour all day long raindrops play a symphony July helps sowing rivers run in spate August plays cymbals of flood water everywhere month of September spread cough and stomach disease catkin flowers bloom crop harvesting songs October brings festivals smiling faces roam yellow barren fields songs of fishermen cool November air month of snow and choir hail storm plays the Dholak drum December- year ends 27th June, 2017.
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Jun 27, 2017
Jun 27, 2017 at 10:23 AM UTC
Haiku Of Sound