The Wind
The February full moon stirred
A wintery blustering
Wind that roared through the neighborhood
Like an out-of-control freight train.
The stark, naked trees swayed wildly
In a ceremonial dance
While low-growing tree branches touched
Intermittently the ground
In swift, servile genuflections.
Then for an abbreviated
Lull, an eerie silence prevailed
Within this moonlit quietude
Until the winds bellowing voice
Was heard echoing its return.
poem by Albert Ahearn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
An Autumn Scene
The autumn sun shines through the near naked trees exposing recent abandoned thrush nests those months before were hidden from Mans eyes. The lingering colored, crisp, dying leaves precariously cling until late November winds and rain end their brief lives leaving only their scented remains on the ground.
A scorpion sun shines through near naked
Trees exposing vacant, forsaken nests
Where blue robin eggs laid comfortable hid
From probing Mans eyes and unwelcome guests.
The lingering, colored, crisp, dying leaves
Cling to the branches precariously
Until the blustering wind starts to heave
Its gusts from the north unrelentingly.
Apropos of rain it soon will follow
Deluging hapless, defenseless brown leafs.
The wind and the rain display a grand show
Dislodging the leaves whose lives were so brief.
After the lull of the wind and the rain
What’re left on the ground are scented remains.
poem by Albert Ahearn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fear Is What Quickens Me
1
Many animals that our fathers killed in America
Had quick eyes.
They stared about wildly,
When the moon went dark.
The new moon falls into the freight yards
Of cities in the south,
But the loss of the moon to the dark hands of Chicago
Does not matter to the deer
In this northern field.
2
What is that tall woman doing
There, in the trees?
I can hear rabbits and mourning dovees whispering together
In the dark grass, there
Under the trees.
3
I look about wildly.
poem by James Arlington Wright
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Visitant
1
A cloud moved close. The bulk of the wind shifted.
A tree swayed over water.
A voice said:
Stay. Stay by the slip-ooze. Stay.
Dearest tree, I said, may I rest here?
A ripple made a soft reply.
I waited, alert as a dog.
The leech clinging to a stone waited;
And the crab, the quiet breather.
2
Slow, slow as a fish she came,
Slow as a fish coming forward,
Swaying in a long wave;
Her skirts not touching a leaf,
Her white arms reaching towards me.
She came without sound,
Without brushing the wet stones,
In the soft dark of early evening,
She came,
The wind in her hair,
The moon beginning.
3
I woke in the first of morning.
Staring at a tree, I felt the pulse of a stone.
Where’s she now, I kept saying.
Where’s she now, the mountain’s downy girl?
But the bright day had no answer.
A wind stirred in a web of appleworms;
The tree, the close willow, swayed.
poem by Theodore Roethke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Black Angus Bull
Out there in the paddock I hear the black bull
He never stops bellowing when the moon is full
I wonder does the moon effect him in some strange way
For I've never heard him bellow in the light of the day
The full moon does effect people 'tis said
It has an unsettling effect in the head
And if a mental weakness in humans the full moon can find
Why not it too effect the animal kind
He has his herd of cows with him yet I do wonder why
He bellows all night when the moon's in the sky
During the hours of day he is always so quiet
And I've never heard him bellow on a dark night
But he never stops bellowing when the moon is full
Out there in the paddock the black angus bull.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Autumnale for M lady ernestine
The falling leaves dance in the breeze
and clothe the ground beneath the trees,
in autumn colours rich a rare.
The trees themselves will soon be bare.
Left no defence against the wind.
Their winter plans are well designed,
bare twigs and branches hold less snow
than useless leaves they have let go
The wintry gales to no avail
try hard but they are doomed to fail,
They can’t destroy the sturdy trees;
resisting with apparent ease.
Although they bow before the blast
they know that winter cannot last
The winds will die and fade away
the trees will they’re here to stay.
Spring will return the trees will green
as if the winter had not been.
The trees put on their new spring clothes
along with every plant that grows.
8-Oct-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sacred grove for M lady Lucianne
Above my head tree branches intertwine
to form a leafy canopy
through which the silvery moon light can shine
if only intermittently.
A lasting sense of peace pervades this place.
As if some sacred spirit rules.
Your troubles disappear and leave no trace.
The trees are her most willing tools
deep rooted in the earth they stand.
Living slow growing monuments
who knows what mysteries they understand
They suffer not from mans ailments.
No jealous animosity
can penetrate this sanctuary
18-Jan-08.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Spectacle
Today’s early morning produced
A winter postcard spectacle:
The once stark maple tree branches
Are now laden with heavy snow;
Their lesser-kin (low-growing trees)
Stand covered like woody snowmen.
The predawn light creeping above
Washed away any subtle
Colors from the panorama
Leaving a lovely, black and white,
Silent wonderland glistening
In the dawning February
Sun whose waxing intensity
Ends what seemed like a pleasant dream.
poem by Albert Ahearn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Women trees
The hidden flowers of the trees
In their bud breasts
Waiting their colored blooming
In cups
On their old branches
The moss growing on the trunk
Like green thighs
On their very thin old cracked crust
With swelling whitish scattered areolae,
Buzzing bee in their tree honeycomb
Like a voice of the heart letting out its sorrow
Aerating their roots with softer mysteries
Growing up above the ground
Their knee roots allowing the inflow of life
To the fibres
Those trees
Like wooden women statues.
poem by Marieta Maglas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Insolvent for my friend Aldo
The silver leaves of aspen trees
which shimmer in the playful breeze.
Each separate leaf reflecting light
like newly minted coinage bright.
Quite soon will be a memory
as autumn winds strip every tree
until no single leaf is left
Their branches naked and bereft.
Though they still shiver in the breeze.
The naked branches do not please
the eye the way they used to do.
I long again to see the view
of silver laden aspen trees.
which dip and curtsy in the breeze..
28-Oct-07
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Returning
The blustering wind announces
The arrival of a new moon
But we complain about the wind
Because it messes up our hair
Or blows the neighbors leaves around
That winds up on our property.
The new moon which we cannot see
For the most part goes unnoticed.
It is a time for returning-
Not too far at the beginning.
Yet is auspicious for success.
When our knowledge is limited
Most of us cannot understand
“Returning to the beginning ”
A subtle brightness
Enters the void of darkness
Beckons my return.
poem by Albert Ahearn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Evening In A Sugar Orchard
From where I lingered in a lull in march
outside the sugar-house one night for choice,
I called the fireman with a careful voice
And bade him leave the pan and stoke the arch:
'O fireman, give the fire another stoke,
And send more sparks up chimney with the smoke.'
I thought a few might tangle, as they did,
Among bare maple boughs, and in the rare
Hill atmosphere not cease to glow,
And so be added to the moon up there.
The moon, though slight, was moon enough to show
On every tree a bucket with a lid,
And on black ground a bear-skin rug of snow.
The sparks made no attempt to be the moon.
They were content to figure in the trees
As Leo, Orion, and the Pleiades.
And that was what the boughs were full of soon.
poem by Robert Frost
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Day In The Life Of A Tree
Feel the wind burn through my skin
The pain, the air is killing me
For years my limbs stretched to the sky
A nest for birds to sit and sing
But now my branches suffer
And my leaves dont bear the glow
They did so long ago
One day I was full of life
My sap was rich and I was strong
From seed to tree I grew so tall
Through wind and rain I could not fall
But now my branches suffer
And my leaves dont offer
Poetry to men of song
Trees like me werent meant to live
If all this world can give
Pollution and slow death
Oh lord I lay me down
No lifes left to be found
Theres nothing left for me
Trees like me werent meant to live
If all this earth can give
Is pollution
Trees like me werent meant to live
(oh lord I lay me down)
If all this earth can give
(my branches to the ground)
Is pollution and slow death
(theres nothing left for me)
Oh lord I lay me down
My branches to the ground
Theres nothing left for me
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Winds Of Wyoming
Have you ever heard the wind
blowing across the plains?
Moving and stacking snow
in drifts across the lane
Have you heard the wind howling
like a wolf baying at the moon?
It's an eerie and unnerving feeling
making up its melodious tune
Have you ever watched the trees
bending to and fro in the wind?
Leaves blow off and scatter around
it's mother nature who has sinned
Have you heard the windows rattle
as the wind blows through the cracks?
The draft blows under each of the doors
it's coming in from the back
The wind is part of our landscape
and it's with us most everyday
But we love Wyoming wind that's true
it's ours and we're here to stay
poem by Louise Davis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Freight Train
Well I just came down from Chippewa
I had a station wagon and a hundred dollars
I was thinkin' about the girl I'd lost a year before
I hadn't seen her for some time
I thought that I might go on by
When your memory came floodin' in
And you closed that door
[CHORUS:]
Wish I was a freight train baby
Wish I was a diesel locomotive
I'd come whistlin' down your track
Crashin' in your door
Wish I was a freight train baby
Wish I didn't have a heart
And you'd need a shovel for the coal
Just to get me started
Wish I was a freight train baby
Wish I was a freight train
Well every time I talk to you
And I hear your jealous lies
I feel like I've been left abandoned
On some old railway side
And every time I hear your voice
My water just gets cold
My stoker will not stoke
And my boiler will not boil
[CHORUS]
Well every time I fell behind
And I could not get ahead
I wish someone would pull the lever
And give me a little sand
And every time I slip behind
Even further back
I wish some switchman would come out of the fog
And change my track
Wish I was a freight train baby
Wish I was a diesel locomotive
I'd come whistlin' down your track
Crashin' in your door
Wish I was a freight train baby
Wish I didn't have a heart
And you'd need a shovel for the coal
Just to get me started
Wish I was a freight train baby
Wish I was a freight train . . .
song performed by by Kasey Chambers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
In Fullmoon...
In full moon night,
the moon walked
with me with his light.
There was cool breeze,
his light touched
the heads of trees--
and the green darkness,
spread its sheet
over the leas' face.
The moon sat under
a leafy tree....
looking at me with wonder
He told how he does fade,
and the dust, smoke, fog,
cover him with shade!
He wept, and I heard,
until, he slept and woke
listening to the call of bird!
poem by Nilakshi Das
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Our Own Dance....
in the darkness of our
nights
we shall dance
my love
just the two of us
and our shadows
that the moon so full
shall fill with delight
our music is our silence
oh, many shall join us
in this merriment
the sands of the shores
the leaves of the coconut trees
the winds of the horizon
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Tree's Devil
The tree, how it sits
so still in the ground.
It is its homeplace,
forever it stays there,
unless it is rudely uprooted.
It's branches slowly sway
to and from with the soft breeze.
Soon, night will come
and with it it will bring
the devils wind.
It will howl and whine
threw the tree's limbs,
and the tree will anger
and slash its branches out,
trying to stop the dreadful wind.
poem by Alison Miotke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Utopian Mirth
Sea waves spelled aright hours on my path;
I thought: Beguiling is the ocean, my Lord,
White pebbles on shore on a widest strath,
Between me, lone stars and an harp's chord..
Sea waves responded; a well crafted pate,
of foam and pine needles, so I became a tree,
Crowned with my words' string, a freight,
To carry on forever, with free wind and sea.
A tree with his evergreen bowed branches,
To accompany north wind's utopian mirth,
Accord of solitude, on draft modes attaches,
Stringing notes of return to a comely berth.
Zephyr spells estimable calls and breathes,
Upon my orisons, entreaties and retentions,
And I am an iron boat rusting amid wreaths,
Perceiving goals, gallivants fair excursions.
I am an iron boat dreaming of salutary trips,
Your wharf smiles is my reason to arrogate,
Amid the winds and our love moon eclipse,
Assign your name, my depart to designate.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ancient Scribbling
How did I get this ancient so very fast?
Seems like my 40th year is in the recent past.
Seventy one has just roared by like a freight train.
Now I trudge down the street in ever growing pain.
I truly believe in the reality of reincarnation.
These body parts were misused before my utilization.
I'm bald, but that feature causes me no fear;
What bothers me is each day there is less I can hear.
There's the deal about my memory and its phase;
Events of 50 years ago not bad… less for recent days.
As for my virility, I feel there is something wrong.
I tried to see four doctors, but the lines were too long.
I guess things aren't really as bad as they sound.
I had kidney-prostate cancer and am above ground.
poem by Gregory Huyette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
From this High Window
From this high window
the invisible wind
moves silent trees:
motion without sound,
dance without song.
Behind painted walls
and heavy curtains,
I cannot not hear
the tumult,
but opening the heavy door,
at last I hear the trees sing,
stirred to passion
by unseen hands
waving branches
swept up
by the compelling wind,
and drawn outside,
exposed and complete,
finally I face the clear maelstrom,
my own hair flying free,
and gaze at the trees,
wild men
dancing as they chant
savage hymns
to their howling god.
poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!