Catkin Poems - Poems about Catkin

... dear … moonlight keeper of the wan, wondrous, midnight mists might I beg of you a kindness? I know you hide there, safe from the needling stars in a shroud of black brume but could you wi......

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... love … a crutch for you but you wear it like a Prada suit matching handbag, of course, to keep your toys in … (mostly men … alphabetically) six-inch Blahnik stilettos for crushing egos wit......

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...I left home in dreams of battlefield glory, When Pea flower dot the golden brown cole In the delicate bloom of late spring. I cycled to the frontlines, Wheels whispering of broken prophecies. Th......

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... all my senses ... long to make sense ... of YOU what greets my gaze is perfect imperfection lines and curves and shapes and colors and movements mingled with sacred intent in sublime symmetr......

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...Night brings a wondrous display a mix and blended menagerie arrayed with colors, melodies and creatures unmatched by any hunter's imaginary superiority scratched. In my wildest dreams at the ......

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...The road leads to old windmill Soul like grain is processed by the mill The very presence of the mill Surreal will make you feel The orb is like science filled dream Beautiful and bizarre cry......

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...Sun is setting in the west Birds towards home are flying fast In search of beauty soul begins a quest In the vision of horizon the spirit will nest Upon the lake in the spring breeze rushes gen......

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...The snow before honey hued sun flees The rivers begin to unfreeze The fragrance of field flowers and bonfire is carried by spring breeze Catkin begins to grow soon flowers will be pollinated by bees......

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...If the wind changes and the showers fall heavily on meadows and glades April is Green, Buds and leaves grow quickly on these green days everyone can see that there is a sun, Walk through villages, co......

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...Catkins, Catkins peek out your furry head Upon the branchlet within the meadow Remember curiosity killed the cat, stone dead Nature's furry, cocoons upon the willow Beat the leaf and spr......

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...Jack Horne Picking twelve bunches of daffodils - I knew they were her favourites - I stood beneath catkin trees, Listening to the chicks Calling their parents, Waiting for grubs. Then she ......

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