In the Grove

This poem was inspired by the olive groves in Andalucia, Spain.

While passing through the olive groves,
Green branches hung with summer's fruit,
Through trodden dirt where nothing grows,
Save trees in rows of common suit,
I saw the mountains roll away,
In waves of never-ending trees,
Leaves stirring like the gentle spray,
Of mild, windblown, choppy seas,
I taste the heat of Spanish air,
Baked dry beneath the Spanish sun,
Horizons tinged like auburn hair,
Windblown, throughout the heavens flung,
Like soldiers on a battlefield,
Skies red with war, the tension high,
Each locked in form, no sword or shield,
But only olive branches fly.

Reviews

[Radad Ibn Nasir]

PEACE!!!! I have yet to come across a poem that strikes me upon first read and you did exactly that with this piece of writing here! Wow, phenomenal work, you definitely painted a picture of moving art. There is so much for the mind to take in with all the visuals you give the reader. The rhyme scheme is just as great it flows like the time of peace it should. Divine writing! Bravo!!

[Samuel Dickens]

Serene and pleasant images here. I visited Spain many times when I was in the Navy and always enjoyed it.

[Coyote Poetry]

A beautiful poem. Great description in your words. I love poetry that make you wish to read again. Your poem story create a good vision and was a great pleasure to read. A excellent poem.
Coyote

[Priyankaabhilaashi]

Lovely piece of work..!!!!

[Marshall Hanson]

This is a very good poem. Very visual. keep up the great work.

[MunkeeFareek]

great poem