"hickories" poems - Hello Poetry

Mandolin harmonies trailed up Bear Hair Gap, echoed between the chestnuts, hickories & sweet blackberries. Lodi & a bad moon rising stifled the cool air, wood spirits whispered secret incantations to the fairies & sprites flying amongst the fireflies. This is the sacred Coosa place, where bricks have names, where the wolf man drove his Impala spooking summer campers & where old blackie got trapped. Two are gone now, one succumbed to the bottle, the other still stalking hikers near the Raven Cliffs o'er near Helen. The bricks will remain forever 'neath the phases of the moon beside the maiden Trahlyta, up from Blood Mountain.

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Mar 4, 2014

Mar 4, 2014 at 3:22 AM UTC

jonny-angel

Blue Ridge Flare (Childhood Memories)

Mandolin harmonies trailed up Bear Hair Gap, echoed between the chestnuts, hickories & sweet blackberries. Lodi & a bad moon rising stifled the cool air, wood spirits whispered secret incantations to the fairies & sprites flying amongst the fireflies. This is the sacred Coosa place, where bricks have names, where the wolf man drove his Impala spooking summer campers & where old blackie got trapped. Two are gone now, one succumbed to the bottle, the other still stalking hikers near the Raven Cliffs o'er near Helen. The bricks will remain forever 'neath the phases of the moon beside the maiden Trahlyta, up from Blood Mountain.

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DO you know how the dream looms? how if summer misses one of us the two of us miss summer- Summer when the lungs of the earth take a long breath for the change to low contralto singing mornings when the green corn leaves first break through the black loam- And another long breath for the silver soprano melody of the moon songs in the light nights when the earth is lighter than a feather, the iron mountains lighter than a goose down- So I shall look for you in the light nights then, in the laughter of slats of silver under a hill hickory. In the listening tops of the hickories, in the wind motions of the hickory shingle leaves, in the imitations of slow sea water on the shingle silver in the wind- I shall look for you.

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Carl Sandburg

Silver Wind

DO you know how the dream looms? how if summer misses one of us the two of us miss summer- Summer when the lungs of the earth take a long breath for the change to low contralto singing mornings when the green corn leaves first break through the black loam- And another long breath for the silver soprano melody of the moon songs in the light nights when the earth is lighter than a feather, the iron mountains lighter than a goose down- So I shall look for you in the light nights then, in the laughter of slats of silver under a hill hickory. In the listening tops of the hickories, in the wind motions of the hickory shingle leaves, in the imitations of slow sea water on the shingle silver in the wind- I shall look for you.

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*I wander alongside aimlessly Floating down a path like a half of chaff Wondering what it means to be As tall as the ivory hickories To be as weightless as the leaves Or lost within the present pause Where I am more often than not Considered to be me As I stop myself and start again In wonderment of what I find Alone in this and thought amiss I disconnect myself from the moderneness And find myself here standing out Tall and alone amongst the trees In place where I need not create The peace of mind which I do seek*

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Mar 20, 2017

Mar 20, 2017 at 11:31 AM UTC

colmistoirm

Timber Adrift

*I wander alongside aimlessly Floating down a path like a half of chaff Wondering what it means to be As tall as the ivory hickories To be as weightless as the leaves Or lost within the present pause Where I am more often than not Considered to be me As I stop myself and start again In wonderment of what I find Alone in this and thought amiss I disconnect myself from the moderneness And find myself here standing out Tall and alone amongst the trees In place where I need not create The peace of mind which I do seek*

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A spiderweb cracks the sky in oranges and reds as I inhale deeply the mountain mist, I insist this place is Heaven. Twenty minutes ago the singing began in earnest, echoing off the white oaks, those twisted hickories. And in a frenzy, Goldfinches crack sunflower seeds by the pound. Oh the wonderful sound! I love this place, nestled near the West Fork of Wolf Creek.

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Apr 4, 2015

Apr 4, 2015 at 7:30 AM UTC

jonny-angel

I Love This Place I Call Heaven (The West Fork of Wolf Creek)

A spiderweb cracks the sky in oranges and reds as I inhale deeply the mountain mist, I insist this place is Heaven. Twenty minutes ago the singing began in earnest, echoing off the white oaks, those twisted hickories. And in a frenzy, Goldfinches crack sunflower seeds by the pound. Oh the wonderful sound! I love this place, nestled near the West Fork of Wolf Creek.

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The golfers leave early -- September or October -- it's just you and the hickories, the asters, the goldenrod -- and the reservoir -- the ripples shimmering eastward. Steamshovels and bulldozers labored here one summer, digging a hole for the water, piling up the earth. You walk on the bank they made, seeing beyond the golf course -- the houses and barns, the swampy gray-brown fields of goldenrod, the railroad tracks, the pines. Your thoughts plunge to the reservoir's bottom then turn racing to the farthest field.

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Jul 30, 2017

Jul 30, 2017 at 3:27 PM UTC

lucius-furius

Reservoir (Day)

The golfers leave early -- September or October -- it's just you and the hickories, the asters, the goldenrod -- and the reservoir -- the ripples shimmering eastward. Steamshovels and bulldozers labored here one summer, digging a hole for the water, piling up the earth. You walk on the bank they made, seeing beyond the golf course -- the houses and barns, the swampy gray-brown fields of goldenrod, the railroad tracks, the pines. Your thoughts plunge to the reservoir's bottom then turn racing to the farthest field.

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Walking down Memory Lane Living forgotten dreams again; Seeing the faces and colors Of friends, family and brothers. Some of them good dreams Of sunny days and pastures And some were scary times With fear in too large measures. Many times the details there Are cloudy and too indistinct. Maybe they aren’t as important As I may once have liked to think. There are friends there, too In the lane of remembering And lovers and co-workers That don’t deserve forgetting But there are so many there In any person’s lengthy time. If Memory Lane were a hill It would be a long hard climb. There are playgrounds and parks In the vistas of Memory Lane. Some of them better forgotten And some I want to see again. I want to swing on that swing And feel I am flying so very high That I can let go and reach out And actually touch the very sky. And there lakes and flowers On this journey through memory. There were tasty walnuts and Lovely pines and old hickories. There were puppies I love so And kittens and some horses. So much better to remember Than breakups, fights, divorces. I am always so pleased when I get to come back here again. Rewarded for a lifetime of love And walks down Memory Lane.

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Oct 16, 2015

Oct 16, 2015 at 3:56 AM UTC

brent-kincaid

MEMORY LANE

Walking down Memory Lane Living forgotten dreams again; Seeing the faces and colors Of friends, family and brothers. Some of them good dreams Of sunny days and pastures And some were scary times With fear in too large measures. Many times the details there Are cloudy and too indistinct. Maybe they aren’t as important As I may once have liked to think. There are friends there, too In the lane of remembering And lovers and co-workers That don’t deserve forgetting But there are so many there In any person’s lengthy time. If Memory Lane were a hill It would be a long hard climb. There are playgrounds and parks In the vistas of Memory Lane. Some of them better forgotten And some I want to see again. I want to swing on that swing And feel I am flying so very high That I can let go and reach out And actually touch the very sky. And there lakes and flowers On this journey through memory. There were tasty walnuts and Lovely pines and old hickories. There were puppies I love so And kittens and some horses. So much better to remember Than breakups, fights, divorces. I am always so pleased when I get to come back here again. Rewarded for a lifetime of love And walks down Memory Lane.

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