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Yew Remember

Yew remember
The flaky times,
The broken branches.
Yew grew so strong and fast.
Yew is not as tough
As yew look.

Yew exude
Attracting berries
Yew absorb
our gases
like thoughts.

How’s life within
your dangling conscious
and pointed needles?
Yew nurtured truth
yet live in pain.

Winter be longer
than yew thought.
But yew
will not be silenced
by others.

Yew draw
A complex pattern.
Aching for light
But yew can be cool,
contented not
to sit in the shade
beneath others.

Yew are alone in this world
No more than the oak
nor beech.
Yew shed
a spirited shadow
As
Yew are a survivor.

Anon.

Poetry Theme(s):

Currently Popular Poems:

River Stour, Sudbury

Mirror of ripples, floating tangles and bubbly foam. Swans racing The togetherness Of aqua. Sallow splashes Poplars tremble And minds drift. Jungle of reeds On vertical plane Moorhen hideout. Anon.
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Pandemic

Piecing together all our hopes and dreams, joining the broken fragments of our lives, managing the pain of another loss, full of joy when finally together, society’s fabric hangs by a thread. Julia Duke
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North Transept

A stone milk tray Eyes of the past Watchful of progress. Golden ochre-pink Periwinkle scar A ship’s ballast from afar. Separate yet together United they stand Teapot and hen. Sharp, knobbly eyes Faces forgotten by wind Trampled and thinned.   by Stephanie
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A Way of Life

It’s become a way of life this summer, the canvas bag slung over my shoulder hoping not to need it hoping the sky will stay blue long enough to get a walk by the sea. It’s become a way of life this summer, wearing my green jeans, wearing a matching sweatshirt to keep the wind out, wearing green wherever possible to match my green cagoule in case I need it. It’s becoming a way of life, it’s true, this life of uncertainty which nags at the back of your mind and keeps you constantly looking up the weather on your phone. It’s a way of life, this anxiety which sends me scurrying for help when it mushrooms out of control in the middle of the night. Julia
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Breath

All round the world people are holding their breath Is it just an anomaly or are we in at the death? Our planet is hurting that we all can see Is this blip natural or caused by you and me? We have to trust scientists to tell us the truth You are our hope and you are our sleuth Do not ignore the cynics they’ll keep you on track Retest their theories, and find out what they lack Is it a sun spot that may cause the crash Or too much abuse, and things that we trash So tell us home truths, even things that we fear Especially those things we do not want to hear So all of the plastic we do not need to use All of our assets we need not abuse Will help just a little, we hope and we pray Seek a safe path, make some headway Let the whole world return to a safer course Let saving people be a founding force Be sure to travel just the trail that is true Lies come back to bite, like an old lover’s tattoo Let’s hope with every hope we’re not in at the death And slowly, slowly ..... release the world’s...
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On Birch Hill

On birch hill The winter sun glimpses through the copse. On birch hill I find my rhythm To pave my life. On birch hill chipped and flaky bark Reveals its inner self. On birch hill I find energy And Freedom of thought. Henry  
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Stones of Old

Tell me your song oh stones of old of the summers that warmed you and the strike of the cold the voices of song absorbed in your heart the anger and fear that tore you apart. Speak to me of church bells and whispered dreams the rough hands that gathered your broken seams the waterways that carried your bones of lime the soft crunch of bread and red rivers of wine. Who did you cradle in your shadowed arch as the songbirds heralded the soldiers march as battles raged in the skies ahead and you sheltered your spiders in a stony bed? Is the wear on your shoulders the marks of the wild or the scrape of a heel from a venturing child? Discarded windows frame the dance of time Oh tell me your stories great stalwarts of lime.     Emmalene  
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Mirrored Silences

With mirrored silences amplifying the spaces in between. The lost thoughts Gathering the unfulfilled dreams. Anne
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Ode to a Tilted Tree

Your body tilted Your leaves wilted Your energy royal, your friendship loyal. But you are discouraged and tired of being sparingly admired. Your head bends steadily towards the water, The by-standers do not seem to bother to listen to the stories you can reveal, Allowing the history and your presence to heal the wounds one carries in her mind; You seem exhausted yet humbly kind. Welcoming strangers with a warm embrace Your wrinkled skin and a weather-beaten face contrasts with a jovial and mischievous grace of the young branches so naive but stable… How much you must be grateful - for these smooth slender arms, With your inner protection nothing harms.   Anon .
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