"conifer" poems
Upstanding citizen of forest floor.
Tall and proud.
Lowest level.
Tall and strong.
Home to many.
An ancient realm.
Mighty den of bugs and grubs.
Detritus munching in the hole.
A deciduous conifer.
Gets undressed for winter.
Redresses early spring.
Parody of pine tree.
Wood as red as fire.
The itching sky she needs to scratch.
Always reaching upwards.
Until her time is done!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 10:14 AM UTC
I love the majestic ugliness of the Eucalypt;
Aesthetically more appealing in its twisted, gnarled appearance
Than any uniform northern conifer;
Infinitely more adapted to the unforgiving antipodean climate
Than those idealised European deciduous living monuments
Still transfixing our collective view of how a tree should be.
Those dropping leaves allowing scenes beyond;
Those tendrils of bark denoting Darwinian fitness;
All tug at the heart of we new Australians,
Conflicted, as we are, by sensibilities born elsewhere,
But borne, nevertheless, into an Ancient Eden.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 3:29 PM UTC
the air bites at my nose
like an icy mosquito,
and raindrops plop onto
the roof and the giant
green, car-shaped tarp.
beads adorn the pointed
branches of the conifer
like tiny, fleeting noses;
they leap from their
makeshift perches into
the frosty darkness
of the garden below,
joining their brethren,
already pooling together.
Mar 31, 2012
Mar 31, 2012 at 2:25 AM UTC
We strode together in another age, my love,
You, in your earthen gown and beautiful dark tresses.
I, the wearer of the long plaited, thong and sinew sandal.
You and I, we strode through quiet valleys of tall conifer
Where huge rock falls left monolithic edifices... as monuments to past largess.
Together we walked as one, in a world much simpler than the one we live in now.
In a time, without the inhibition of contrivance or sophistication.
We walked in clarity and drank from clear, clean waters.
We dallied in the honeyed light of a huge, summer moon.
A field of dandy lions in the warm April sunshine, was the byre in which we made love and produced our babies.
A love ... un-harried, unhurried and devoid of any preoccupation other than that of the beautiful desire
We felt for each other.
The love we feel now is the same as the love shared then;
But in this age it is diluted and complicated by the urgencies and imperatives of the day.
Then there was just time...given and taken.
Without cost or penalty, without blame or insinuation, without hurt or harm.
Time in that better age...was a friend.
A friend who augmented the beauty of today into the promise of tomorrow,
A friend who exchanged the serenity of yesterday for the excitement of the new day’s dawn.
This was our time, when the bond of eternity sealed our commitment to each other.
For however many lifetimes we may live in...
We shall be one.
Marshalg
For darling Janet
12 September 2011
Sep 12, 2011
Sep 12, 2011 at 3:14 PM UTC
he tripped through the streets
towards home
still light of foot
under the LED lights
but another unsuccessful hunt
meant he'd be hungry tonight
perhaps he knew it was
the last time
familiar sounds and smells
preying on his mind
tonight he'd sleep
under the stars outside
curled up to keep warm
on a mild spring night
I found him under a conifer
still in a fetal curve
some time later
nature had taken it's course
his brush was still there
and some of a thick red coat
but the putrid smell told me
he had chosen my garden
to take his last breath
and I was honoured
to give him the burial
he deserved
Jun 3, 2023
Jun 3, 2023 at 7:35 PM UTC
snapshots!
the poet & the photographer
marvel
~~~
felled trees
nesting Ferns
restful
~~~
Temperate jungle
embrace all traces
of change
~~~
peeing in the rain
understanding the clouds
~~~
Leaf-fall carpet
conifer curtains
The living room
~~~
parallel the River
the road
much slower
~~~
bare-feet over needles
Redwood witnesses
~~~
under this
a blank page
~~~
October sky
the heat setting with the sun
colors following
~~~
brush stroke clouds
the Moon shines through
the ink
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 2:38 PM UTC
pour her slowly onto the page
each inch of her soft skin released in liquid
onto the ambiguous background
sharp and clear
her features worn with the hours
seems bleak to the touch
seems to be a long distance to travel for a tear that never falls
a bitter moment
pour her essence onto the deep white page
and she fills the void
she is the void
with alive colors
with dead space between her words
and i lean on her ear
but the things i say evaporate
and the things i feel become whispers of smoke
that she puffs on with causal care
tenderly caress my mind
as i pour her out
eclipse her with brush
overshadow her with shutter speed
and wait for her to capture me before i can flee
i poured her onto the page
every soft inch of her skin
a liquid flowing careful and easy on
the white portrait backdrop
i capture conifer scent
and her profile lanced by pine needles
leisure in the wood
her voice a narrow sharp instrument
her wide hips
swinging slow and ****
packed in skintight jean
and making my mind hazy
with things i shouldn't feel bout a friend
but she moves back and forth back and forth
and the thoughts wont leave me alone
she is a portrait i saw today
and i loved her
as she was seen
and i knew her as she was meant to be
forgiven and forgiving
in an endless night
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 8:54 PM UTC
after cutting timber
at the top of the hill
I waited for you
not long enough for the magpie’s
wing-feather to fall from the conifer
and then your silhouette
along with the sunset
struck me
and drawing closer
your smile
drawing closer
Aug 12, 2011
Aug 12, 2011 at 1:45 AM UTC
My dear Conifer,
how long have you stood in this place?
How long have you laboured to become so mighty and sturdy?
Have you worked hard to achieve this strong foundation?
My dear Conifer,
can I attach myself to your system and enjoy the fruits of your labour?
May I reside on your strong trunk and grow my berries from your sap?
My needs are small and you're so abundant
You won't even notice my presence on your towering body.
Can you afford me the advantages you have toiled for?
My dear Conifer,
can I bore into your core and grow heavy in your honour.
I'll enjoy your kindness and establish my position from your greatness.
Don't be afraid,
I bear you no ill will,
I only want to become a part of your brilliance and reach the heights which you've suffered to attain.
Conifer,
Have your roots become weak in the ground?
You sway back and forth from the most gentle winds.
Your foliage looks dry, withered.
Branches no longer reaching for the sky.
I've grown strong on your trunk,
I'm beautiful and ripe, my berries,
the most succulent of all mistletoe.
You're a frail shadow of your former self,
no longer worthy of sustaining me.
Sep 20, 2016
Sep 20, 2016 at 5:11 AM UTC
They have their own immortal feel
These monolithic trees *****
The ancients with green wash and brush
did etch these hills, I do suspect.
The Gods did bless with outstretched arm
Descending mile on mile of pine,
Fir and spruce cascading slope
In green and turquoise laughter mine.
Delicate in tiny spines, cones of copper rough are born
Nostrils twitched in acid scent of conifer, of coniform.
Magnificence across the hills as far as eye can see they span
Share wilderness with bear and wolf.... I weep with joy, because I can.
M.
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 1:45 PM UTC
Hanging my innards on a tree Carrion hunters flying low
Branches look so smart with my intestines dangling
and no one seems to care about the pain I go through
to make this thing jolly by spearing my kidneys on a twig
no one even notices my liver dripping down the bough.
You don't stop and ask about the way my skin is blowing in the wind
you don't ask how I got my Heart so high that birds are nesting in it.
No one even comments on the bark smeared in marrow and blood and bile.
I only did it to make you smile and laugh, I only went to the trouble so you would notice me.
And did you?
NO
Ignorant *****
Mar 20, 2010
Mar 20, 2010 at 8:30 AM UTC
Conifer-covered hillside
in the hinterlands
of this sleepy town
on a warm day
in this mid-June
The unspoilt soil
neither grieves
nor revels
and there's no revelation in that-
just what you see.
It's just what you see.
The quivering quakeys
can't hack it even when they cackle-
an attempt to unravel the shackles of
their incomplete alchemy-
cause it's never enough
one laugh is never enough.
The high's always flanked
by a sunrise so rank
as to wrinkle the brows
of the loudest and proudest-
the laughers and criers, or livers and die-rs
Just give me the bliss of the birds
and a big lidless urn to retire my fire
when the work week expires
when I finally can see even truth holds some lies
and when the sun sets too low to appraise the horizon,
I'll fly.
I'll just fly.
Jun 22, 2016
Jun 22, 2016 at 10:42 PM UTC
What breath in this chest I take
Take like the night at Dawn's wake
Wake as eyes must at our birth
Birth and pulse of a Heart's worth...
What shame I now must hold and own
Own as ball to chain, as flesh to bone
Bone deep to have been wrongly had
Had like used knick-knacks, paddy-whacked...
And yet, what colors made a learned soul
Soul as bright as faithful to All who's Whole
Whole of the infinite universe made absolute
Absolute to know my love blind and my hate mute
No one to speak to, no words for proof
Proof of life pursuant to heaven's roof
Roof without rooms for an emperor
Emperor, what am I but a seed to the conifer?
What am I to him, who dresses his sons in gossamer?
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 10:21 PM UTC
Sculpted by the wind-
bent back and
black,
sprouted high
planted on a curving road.
Sea on the shoulder
beat back with
conifer on the left
twisted and gnarled,
I’ve seen it sculpted in
faces.
There are people
sculpted by the wind.
Who drive slow-
who harbor a sorrow
in a blonde slick back
stream of high ravine-
like a maze
I’d give my life to be
lost in,
practicing refrain-
walking a practiced
gait-
because oh the intensity!
of being
sculpted by the wind.
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 6:19 PM UTC
An evening set in metered rhyme,
of pinecones, gainfully bracted
in the manner of spiralling time.
No perfect measure yields a woody cone
although conifer strobilus gilded ratio makes.
The standard mesh of numbers alone
symbolise a hope that a glorious God
assembled in a perfect factory line,
this defiant change to perfectly flawed.
Aug 24, 2021
Aug 24, 2021 at 9:36 AM UTC
Gaia, her mother must astound
When hubbub will cleave cyber
But she put me to emcee just a grace factorial
What brevity has commanded with hers.
Still a remnant jolt in my program fork
Her crab a gossip awhile fore gathering near moon,
And her progression ensuing romantic liaison
That perhaps with a heather where inroad shall conifer a creed
With only kissing shaken them from these trees
Our virtual leaf will tie hers together in a scroll
That heighten our kingdom resolve here these intents
Do flow gleefully in toe with so a stance we sugar please.
Jun 20, 2016
Jun 20, 2016 at 9:24 AM UTC
RED
passionate rages of
body and soul
the ardent obsession
of two entities
to merge into a
whole
lovers swept into
an ****** of desire
two Phoenix to die
in dust and ash
and meet fleet
again
in new life
of fire!
~
ORANGE
fire has cooled
age is wise to lust
two of God's creation
working together
under one yoke
habits understood
partners fair
and
just
~
YELLOW
love of family
refined as purest gold
give and take
young and old
parents sculpt young minds
children break the mold
go to their own families
to have and
to hold
~
GREEN
love for nature
creatures great and small
the beautiful earth
the sylibant shushing
waterfall
conifer pines and
russet leaves
that fall
floral offering
in spring
colts breaking from
the stall
summer's slice of life
and winter's pall
we love the
burgeoning
beauty
of it
all!
~
BLUE
love of friends you
hold so near
a shout out to buddies!
loud for all to hear!
forgiveness and
compassion
for those who hurt
and fear
those you like and
those like second
family
dear
~
INDIGO
who can understand
this love so often missed?
love for spiteful enemy
who've wished
only evil for you
even kissed
your cheek
or your lips
in lover's bliss
now turned
and are
snakes
which
hiss...
~
PURPLE
the greatest love
the one most won't applaud
an irony.
HE'S THE ONE WE
SHOULD MOST LAUD!
tho we stand the
mountain
or in valley plod
in humility
most regard
as odd
love for
Abba Father
Jesus Christ
Holy Spirit
GOD
SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc
Catherine Jarvis
(C) 7/23/2016
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 3:46 PM UTC
It's Christmas.
Get out those garlands.
String out those lights.
Drag in the conifer.
Smells so fresh.
Make those mince pies.
Ice your regal cake, crisp with white royal icing.
Um my heaven.
Buy packets of presents.
Hang up your stockings for Santa.
I'm sure he'd like you in them.
Men usually do you know.
***** Christmas present.
You know what?
Today 8th November.
The windows are sparkling with varieties of coloured lights.
It's 46 days till Christmas.
Someone tell my neighbours.
Hell it's much too early for all this hurly burly.
It's crippling the national grid!
(C) livvi
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 7:40 PM UTC
branches run like the veins
across my fair-skinned arm
much like a dead one
am I unrooted
fallen, life poured out of me
a bare conifer still breathing
life into something
someone
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 7:15 PM UTC
Under a temple of sequoia,
I do not fear your ravenous wild
which lives in everything
flowering desire.
What drives my folly
drips longingly with mad nectar,
finds your mystery alive in my eyes,
mystery coloured in vibrant azalea.
There is no forest, just
deciduous portals to other worlds.
Beneath an outgrowing meadow
of detritus, decay has a lurid scent
of pine that lingers. And your roots
guide my descent into the darkest deep,
a thousand years into the Holocene.
Show me
how to carry this endless dream.
Make me remember where
I am and will always be:
in raindrops streaming
to the understory,
in hollowed trees pulsing rivers
of sun in between,
in conifer transpiring seeds
from branch to leaf,
in earthworms relishing
the sweetness of skin,
in the enduring vision of you
that exists in the marrows
of me.
Maybe in time
touched by waterfalls of memory,
I will return to your world again
cloaked in dirt and evergreen.
Jul 16, 2024
Jul 16, 2024 at 8:30 AM UTC
if i have a nature
it is the eucalyptus forests of california,
of portugal. the forest whose burning
seeds and bark fly like spittle from
the mouth of a rabid raccoon.
if i have a nature
it is the trees in central park
living on a token plot in a
jungle of someone else’s design.
if i have a nature
it is the evergreen that
chokes on holly, smothered
by the weight of its peers.
but nature is always changing.
and so, if i have a nature
it is a conifer heaving a gasp and another
despite the hands at its throat.
it is the grass growing in the cracks of
the concrete jungle, reclaiming its home.
it is the flower, clawing through the ash
of those who came before
to turn and face the sun
if i have a nature
it is dreaming
it is pleading
it is vowing
alongside the germinating green
Upright. Upright.
Jan 2, 2019
Jan 2, 2019 at 1:54 AM UTC
It's a new level of age
To forget that the weather changes day to day
And as she looks out behind curtains much older than I am she comments on the rain
"Like blood,
Splattering sidewalks
Drenching us in sorrows
Sylvia
My Sylvia
High noon and her heart was in a novel of faraway lands
I miss her more than life
I miss her more than I miss the sun"
But clouds always pass
And the ****** scene patios dry up under the lights
Removing any evidence that we'd been soaked in gods wrath
And I can remember her asking me about God
Clear as the day that breaks after a storm
She leaned in close
Breath hot from sherry and eyes a little wild for a woman of over a thousand full moons
"What do you think of God?"
I was struck
Never once had her lips spoke of anything holier than thou
She told me that God was a woman
Stormy hair and ocean eyes
"And I know she's waiting for me
Sprinkled in the mist
Hidden in lunar beams
I speak to her sometimes
But never does she coax me closer into the dark corner of this room
But when she does I'll be ready
Thin skinned from age
Ready for flight."
But she hasn't come yet
And you sit in that chair looking out that same window as the conifer dances in the breeze
And at night you cry yourself to sleep
Cursing that God who took your baby from you
"If she is a mother-
Why does she bring me this grief?
I want to hold my Sylvia
I love my Sylvia."
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 11:33 AM UTC
Shadows dance upon the hemlocks
as falling sunlight kisses conifer-tops,
the warblers fight the settling breezes,
echoing the symphony of cicadas
whispering good night
to all the other beautiful trees
& wood spirits swimming
in the cool gurgling-creek.
Thank you Lord.
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 5:35 PM UTC