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Poems About: GREEN

In this page, poems on / about “green” are listed.

  • 313.
    When The Green Gits Back In The Trees

    In spring, when the green gits back in the trees,
    And the sun comes out and stays,
    And yer boots pulls on with a good tight squeeze, read more »

    James Whitcomb Riley
  • 314.
    Eat Your Greens Blues

    1. My mama done tol’ me, when I was just five,
    “You don’t eat healthy, you don’t survive”,
    She’d twist my ear sayin’, “One thing’s for cert,
    Don’t eat your artichoke you, get no dessert”. read more »

    Billy Henderson
  • 315.
    Hurricane Watch

    Green. Green the leaves,
    and waves gray on the forehead of the beach.

    As easy as breeze tensing lengths of hair read more »

    Val Morehouse
  • 316.
    Green Spanish Eyes

    Ah Consuela! Invoking vast vistas for visions of green Spanish eyes,
    I discern them again where she left me back then, as we kissed when she parted, my friend.
    So I'm daring to tread towards the klieg lights ahead, where I'll wait till I see her ascend. read more »

    Terry O'Leary
  • 317.
    The Maple Tree

    The Maple with its tassell flowers of green
    That turns to red, a stag horn shapèd seed
    Just spreading out its scallopped leaves is seen,
    Of yellowish hue yet beautifully green. read more »

    John Clare
  • 318.

    My dear one is mine as mirrors are lonely,
    As the poor and sad are real to the good king,
    And the high green hill sits always by the sea. read more »

    WH Auden
  • 319.
    Green(nature made me)

    Untame, Wild, Free
    Nurtureing, Loving, Dreaming
    Affectionate, Intelligent, Discerning
    Seeing, Hoping, Living read more »

    Guarded Heart
  • 320.
    On a Line from Valéry (The Gulf War)

    The whole green sky is dying.The last tree flares
    With a great burst of supernatural rose
    Under a canopy of poisonous airs. read more »

    Carolyn Kizer
  • 321.
    Green Groweth the Holly

    1 Green groweth the holly,
    2 So doth the ivy.
    3 Though winter blasts blow never so high, read more »

    Henry VIII, King of England
  • 322.
    The Song of the Cicadas

    Yesterday there came to me
    from a green and graceful tree
    as I loitered listlessly
    nothing doing, nothing caring, read more »

    Roderic Quinn
  • 323.
    The Jungle Bhoys

    On the terracing at Parkhead we gather
    Watching the Bhoys in green play,
    we’ll sing you a song of the Celtic
    And of the players who played down Parkhead’s way. read more »

    Daniel McDonagh
  • 324.
    Green Groweth the Holly

    Green groweth the holly,
    So doth the ivy.
    Though winter blasts blow never so high,
    Green groweth the holly. read more »

    Henry VIII Tudor
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