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Couplet Tree Poems | Couplet Poems About Tree

These Couplet Tree poems are examples of Couplet poems about Tree. These are the best examples of Couplet Tree poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Couplet | |

Unseen

Below the fingers reaching, growing
Into darkness, stretching..holding

Feeding above tiny buds of green
Working day and night, beauty unseen

Preparing a mighty fortress strong and bold
To withstand battles, ancients foretold

Above saplings bend supple in summer breeze
Not realizing, soon comes winter's freeze

Life's cycles pass from season to season
Saplings now majestic, offering no reason

Below the mysterious changes take place
Green turns to rainbows, across horizons face

Encased in ice, and snow of white
They sleep, feeding both day and night

Awaiting first tiny buds of green
Below the magic remains unseen

©Donna Jones

Copyright © Donna Jones

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Below a Douglas Fir

Below a Douglas Fir tree one beautiful moonlit night I sat there with my Missy as we viewed a lovely sight The aurora borealis was lighting up the sky Then something to my right suddenly caught my eye A gem from outer space tore across the cobalt blue Leaving behind a trail a quite spectacular view Two in trapped capture witnessing a shooting star We wonder where it came from, out there from afar We sat there for ages chatting about the sight we seen Phenomena such as this are generally seen in dreams Below the Douglas Fir tree that beautiful moonlit night We marvelled at it's arrival as it disappears from sight http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love-13.php

Copyright © James Fraser

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Naughty Kitties In A Silver Tree

Came home just the other day
Caught my kitties well at play

Cats like to climb up trees it's true
They have the Christmas spirit too!

But not my lovely Christmas tree!
They looked as innocent as can be

With ornaments hanging off his nose
One came out smelling like a rose

For his little sister was worse than that
She was a silver garland-wrapped cat!

Oh they had such fun 'til I came home
Their saucer eyes so brightly shone

I couldn't stay mad for very long
Soon was singing a different song

Found the camera and flashed some shots
Cleaning up all the messy spots

Re-hung the ornaments on the tree
Again it was lovely as could be!

Copyright © Deb Wilson

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LEARN FROM A TREE

When you pluck a flower, the tree remains silent                                                              When you remove a leaf, it reposes to relent

When you climb over, it shields                                                                             When you sever a branch, it yields 

When you harvest the fruits, it doesn’t demur                                                             When you cut a portion, it doesn’t murmur

When you replant, it don’t quit                                                                                  When you cut the whole tree, it is quiet

For the tree treats you, as its’ master!                                                                                So your needs, happily it does cater!!

By silence, it symbolizes surrender                                                                                     It silently shows a noble order

The tree, to its’ master, contently admit                                                                                         Like the tree, to your Master, learn to solemnly submit!





Above poem is adapted from the eBook “WHEN DESTINY DATES! AND OTHER POEMS ON LIFE ” by Mr.V.Muthu manickam. Copyright is held by V.Muthu manickam.

Copyright © V.MUTHU MANICKAM

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A Bedtime Story

Once, a long ways away, and a long time ago
Lived a wee little man with his silly pet crow;
And once every day, as the sun went to bed
The wee little man and the crow he called Ted
Would go through the woods on a nice little walk;
And while they walked through the woods, his pet crow would talk.
Now, if saying, “Pet crow Ted could talk” twists your tongue,
Just wait till I’m through, and the story is done,
Because Ted tied the twigs of two tall apple trees
To the tips of his toes, and his knobby old knees,
And these twigs made him bounce as he walked ‘round and ‘round,
And he talked really loud while he walked on the ground,
Saying, “Twiddle my fiddles, and tie me a pie,
‘Cause a silly old crow couldn’t fly high as I.”
Then the wee little man said, “You silly old bird,
Just the way that you talk takes the sense from a word;
For if fiddles could twiddle, and pies had a string,
Then ants would walk backwards, and old crows would sing.”
Replied Ted the crow to the wee wizened man,
“Perhaps ants can’t do it, but old crows sure can.”
Then he puffed out his chest, and he cawed cockaroo,
And he sang an old song titled, “How Do You Do?”
“How do you do, little maid, Liddy Lee
When the crows come by twos, and they perch on the tree?
What do you see, little maid, Liddy Lee
When the crows throw the cockleshells out on the sea?
Where do you go, little maid, Liddy Lee
When the snow drives the crows from the mulberry tree?
And what do you hear, little maid, Liddy Lee
When the crows throw the snow on the cockleshell sea?”
But the old man just laughed and said, “Such silly songs
Never croaked such a crow as he hopped right along,
Because ants can’t walk backwards, and crows cannot sing,
Just like horses can’t fly, nor do turtles have wings.”
Now the crow wasn’t happy with what had been said
So he said, “I will sing you another instead,”
Then he puffed out his chest, and he cawed cockaree,
And he sang him a song called, “When Two Turned to Three.”
“When two turned to three, and when five turned to four
Things got much stranger than ever before.
There were two little pigs, and but two blinded mice,
And the two musketeers played with three little dice.
There were five and twenty blackbirds flying in the sky;
And four the little famous boy who never told a lie.
When six turned to seven, and eight turned to ten,
Snow White had six little dwarves with her then.
All the town clocks struck first ten, nine, then eight;
And people were always too early or late,
So they turned it all back to six, seven, eight, nine,
That way we could always keep track of the time.
Now the three pigs are three, and there’s three blinded mice,
And the three musketeers play with two little dice,
And the wee little dwarves number seven in all,
And the clock strikes from one up to twelve down the hall.”
But the old man just laughed and said, “Such silly songs
Never croaked such a crow as he hopped right along,
Because ants can’t walk backwards, and crows cannot sing,
Just like snakes don’t have legs, nor do bunnies have wings.
And with that, the old man put his pet crow to bed;
And till early next morning not a sentence was said.

Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst

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Is it Just me

Sometimes I don't know, is it just me Why am I standing, when I should be in the trees Sometimes I don't know if it's right for doing wrong It appears that I'm singing a totally different song Sometimes like in my past, is it just me Maybe I'd be happier, back amongst the leaves .

Copyright © James Fraser

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Go Dog Go A Dr Suess Parody

The dog was driving fast when the light turned green
and drove as if the red was a light between.
He was in a terrible hurry for a party in a tree.
It was just about ten minutes on his clock that he could see.
He pulled up to a maple that had branches speading wide
and hanging from the first one was a poodle he had spied.
He asked him many questions to find others who were friends
and thanked him for his help as they spoke to greater ends.
He went up in the tree on an old rope ladder
and almost fell back down to a poor weak bladder.
When high attop the tree he could see quite far.
All his friends were partying hardy just above his car.
He was offered several drinks all with straws bright pink
and sipped them very slowly as the music made him think.
He talked with many friends as he shared a joke
and walked around on branches careful not to fall and croak.
As he watched the sun fall down and it got quite late
He remembered his long drive and his homeward fate.
So he said his many thank you's and goodbyes quite late
and headed for his car putting down his plate.
It wasn't very long till he reached his home
while remembering the day as his longest roam.
As he set his tiny clock to get up the next day
he knew it wouldn't be as the one today.

THE END

Copyright © Trevor McLeod

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Oak Tree Swing

There's a swing that is hung from a long oaken tree,
By a string where the young have a longing to be.

Where they fly to the sky, ever higher they go,
Till they cry, "Not so high! I shall die, don't you know?"

And they tread through the wold all around by the tree,
Where it's said ruins old can be found by a key.

How they thought many-a night how this fact could be true,
And they fought to set right while they wracked in a crew;

But they never could figure that blur in the tale,
So they clamber with vigor the fir by the trail.

They'd retrace to the place where the moss covered tree
Like a face, beamed with grace as it tossed o'er the lea.

Such a hold that tree held on their glad little selves
As they trolled songs of eld with the bad little elves;

And the song that they sing is a song specked with tears,
Of a long oaken swing cast along through the years;

Left alone by the lane, overgrown, never seen,
Ever blown by the rain, with a groan deep and keen,

Till a small little girl stopped a while on her way,
And a tall oaken burl with a smile bade her stay.

How she clove in a dive through the grove, and the tree,
How it throve, came alive in the cove, in the lea.


{Comments and critique by those knowledgeable 
about consonance vastly appreciated.}

Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst

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Mountain Lake Inspiration Revised

Mountain Lake Inspiration (Light Poetry)

Mountain Lake is my favorite place to write
under shade tree are my pencil, paper, and pole.
Scribble down words while waiting for a bite
fishing my most popular angling hole.

Fish are jumping all around hook and line
small cork sits still and does not move or fade.
Patiently I sit in wait for that fish to dine
beneath weeping willow of cool tree shade.

Inspiration overwhelms biding snare
while creative mind laggardly transcends.
In far distance I see lone grizzly bear
and leave a good fishing pole to his friends.

Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey


Mountain Lake Inspiration (Couplet)

Beneath tree are my pen, paper, and pole; 
fishing my most popular angling hole.

Mountain Lake is my favorite place to write;
scribbling down words while waiting for a bite.

Small cork sits idle, does not move or fade;
beneath weeping willow of cool tree shade.
 
Fish start leaping all around hook and line;
grappling for the wanting chance to dine.

Inspiration engulfs my biding snare;
in far distance I see lone grizzly bear.

While creative mind laggardly transcends;
I leave a good fishing pole to his friends.

Copyright © 2013 By Caryl S. Muzzey

Copyright © Caryl Muzzey

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Sweet Willow Tree

Down by the lake, planted magically nearby
Stands a sweet willow tree forty feet high.
 
The crystallized tree glitters so bright;
Bursting with colours of candy delights.
 
Children from all over visit each day
To gather and gaze the delicious array.
 
Circling the tree, they dance around;
Hand in hand, like a merry-go-round.
 
Their energy stirs such a powerful swirl,
Sending the branches into a twirl.
 
Dangling bonbons begin to fall;
Baskets are filled leaving nothing at all.

Twilight arrives with its colourful glow
And sugar filled blossoms begin to grow.
 
By morning the willow is flourished and sweet,
Ready for the day's visitors to greet!
 

by Ana Espinola Collins

Copyright © Ana Espinola Collins

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In high definition

In high definition... There is an old oak tree in our backyard. This old oak limbs weep like a willow. It branches out to the stars. The moon effervescent shines above. During the winter, the moss hangs low. I see the wind blow through its leaves in autumn. There is an old oak in our backyard Where a widow sits beneath weeping over love lost. The dawn has broken. The dew is high. This old oak is well defined. She has limbs that reach high in the sky. The sun photosynthesis makes each leaf shine. Her depth is sublime. This old oak is part of home. Many visitors she knows as a widower rests before he moves on. This old oak tree stands tall As a City's landmark. |__________________________________________________| Penned on November 22, 2014!

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker

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In A Hotel Room

The ghats,grey serpents in green thickets
cool and moist, dampens restless midgets

There ,in  a hotel ,in the lushness of the tropic's crown
are trees mighty tall with neat flights of stairs hanging down.

stood  perched on trees, a cabin each of uneven logs
with wooden planks hand-polished to parqueted  floors


A large cypress cot,an inviting bed ,the sensuous Umrao-Jaan
on canvas overhead, glowing in hues from a crystal pan

white porcelain figures, lovers dancing  on mantle;love lounges,
windows open to wild flora , a few ripe mangoes hanging in bunches

On the rails ruddy jasmine vines flaunt little white stars
antique bamboo lanterns at the door , happy to be ajar
 
warm aroma from oils of wild-herb toiletries exude
wanting a trickle on the heated hearts' pursuit

cute candles whispers roses and jasmine in the air
nothing more,  the imp of the mind feasts on love in the air. 

on the small balcony , the cool breeze of the underwoods caress
In this tree-house,bask in nature...at its best to soothe five senses. 

Copyright © Mehnaz Veetil

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Under the Christmas Tree

Under the festive Christmas tree
Down there we lie, just you and me

The lights have dimmed, but candles blaze
In tranquil night, my arm you graze

I lie still in this quiet night
Passion shines there, in your eyes bright

Your lips, they warm me with a smile
You let it nestle for a while

The colored lights on our tree blink
How do they know, I'm on the brink?

And then you love me, sweet delight
All else just blurs away from sight

No one to witness this exchange
As your hands play emotion's range

The fire gives that added glow
I am adored, and this I know

This Christmas, love has been reborn
As new vows by our lips are sworn

You touch my hair and plant a kiss
Under the tree, I taste sheer bliss

Eileen Manassian

Copyright © Eileen Manassian

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Upon A Bed Of Petals

There in a bed of petals rests
The latest blooms burst from their nests

Beneath the trees in even's shade
Those nodding flowers dipped and swayed

And one more tender petal fell
The coloured bed of scents to swell

I'll rest me in this quiet shade
'Till sunset's glow does quickly fade

And rest me in these petals sweet
No kingly throne made greater seat

From thence the view I shall survey
The setting sun, the flowers gay

And if, perhaps, I then should tire
I'd follow this, my heart's desire

And there upon that petalled bed
I'd rest my weary, happy head

Perfumed by fragrance from the ground
To go where pleasant dreams abound

Written for the contest by the same name. First Place.

Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst

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Oh, Christmas Tree

An unusual thing occurred at our house Christmas Eve.
It caused us anger, it was enough to make us grieve.

We waited to the last minute for a live Christmas tree:
A brimful tree of precise size, with perfect symmetry.

On Christmas Eve, we pulled it inside the house to trim.
As we tugged it through, we discovered something grim.

Although the tree was green, it was dead as a doornail.
As we carried it in, pine needles rained down like hail.

It was too late to find another tree, the problem to rectify.
“We can’t have Christmas without a tree,” I wanted to cry.

Long gone the days to trek into woods & chop one down.
I wanted to stomp my foot, I wanted someone to crown.

Not only was there no tree, we vacuumed piles of needles.
“Honey, we need an artificial Christmas tree,” I wheedled.

 ‘After Christmas sales,’ afforded us a great opportunity.
  Now, I can decorate the tree each year, with impunity.

  No worry about limbs drooping, no watering to do. I
   like the convenience. I like the look of it too. After 

                                   all, 
                                   it’s 
                                   not 
                               the tree 
                            that counts, 
                       it’s what’s under it. 
                        Don’t you agree? 






Copyright © Cona Adams

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It's Christmas

Its Christmas time again and the bustle is on ,
cleaning the house, bring out the new stuff
A  touch of paint over there, I’m almost done,
The lights are up, tree fully decorated, My place is decked out !!

In the early Christmas morn, the gifts I lay beneath the tree,
Everything is in place……Ohhhh, what  a beautiful sight to see!

Now retired to bed, pleased as could be
He spoke  - and it caused me to look at the thing I did not see
I’ve cleaned and prepared my house for the day
In the midst of this, have I done the same with life in any way?

The scripture rang  loudly in the blanket of the quite morn-
“A child is born and a Son is given”- am  I ready to receive this gift that’s given?

All the lights I’ve hung, He’s the light of the world
The ornaments on the tree, He’s so precious to me
This tree that stands in my hall so tall
Upon a tree he hung, offered vinegar mingled with gall……

My responsibility right now, is share what’s been offered to me
If you did not have lights or decorated a tree, Could not buy a gift, or just didn’t know the story…

Jesus is the gift that’s waiting for you
Yes, you can receive Him, its long overdue
Just open up your heart, he’ll make it brand new
Take a moment to ponder-
Christmas is celebrating what Jesus has done for you !!!

Merry Christmas!!!

12/15/11 revisited 12/17/12
sh

Copyright © Sharon Hyland

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Trees

Trees are moss are grass are stones.
Trees are spirit, nerves and bones.

Trees are air, stars and sky.
Trees are lungs, eyes and I.

Copyright © Trevor McLeod

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Poet Tree

A leaf that tumbles in the air
And drifts upon the ground.
A person who sighs and smiles
With eyes that speak no sound.
Poetry is rooted in the earth,
And flies upon the wind.
It is not a sonnet nor a verse,
It’s a feeling from within.


Copyright © Michelle Mac Donald

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A MIGHTY OAK

       A MIGHTY OAK
"to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature" William Shakespeare, Hamlet, 1601

The mighty oak tree is strong all the way to it's roots.
The mighty oak a place the leprechaun hides his loot.

The mighty oak tree is my shade in the summer time.
The mighty oak keeps me cool when the sun shines.

The mighty oak tree has beauty beyond compare.
The mighty oak has alot of years to share.
                              Teresa Skyles

Entered in Constance La France~A rambling poet~The tree contest
                 Thursday, 21 April, 2011

Copyright © T.A. Skyles-Theoklapoet

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On White Horse Hill

Alone I stand, the blasted thorn,
Devoid of leaves and all forlorn,
A sentinel for countless years,
Of storms and gales I have no fears.

Ignored by man and sheep and rook
Into the vale I longing, look,
O’er Uffington I survey, long,
As through my twigs a mournful song
Is whispered by the Western wind.
Against the slope I’m firmly pinned,
In ancient chalk my roots are bound
In sight, below, of dragon’s mound.

Unchanging down the ages, I,
Stark silhouette against the sky
And visitors espy me still
Abandoned here, on White Horse Hill.

Copyright © Mike Jones

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Tree and the Moon

The lone tree exists out in a large field Alone it hides itself truly concealed The moon shines down upon it bright and true The tree became everything that it knew Clouds cover the moon creating darkness Leaving all things obscure and quite useless Moon appears back to illumine the tree The light appears brilliant so you can see The tree absorbs all the moonlight right there To become a mighty tree that does care Tree knows it will be the show of the land For the light of the moon made it quite grand
Russell Sivey

Copyright © Russell Sivey

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Point Lobos Paths

Last Fall, my church's Scouts and I went hiking.

A few miles north of Big Sur’s coast,
There is a forested park much to our liking.

Point Lobos is the nature preserve that I love most.


The beauty there is supernal, beyond description.

We chose our trails with maps and compasses,
And practiced local plant identification.

I pointed out Monterey Pines and Cypresses.


For a time we climbed a steep inclination.

We looked down into a cove, home of sea otters,
From a viewpoint near the old whalers’ station.

We climbed through a cleft worn down by waters.


That Saturday outing wasn’t a total disaster.

The boys passed tasks to advance in ranks.
Life doesn’t get much better for an old Scoutmaster.

Lastly, to the Great Spirit we all gave thanks.




For Goethe Stanzas contest

Copyright © Mark J. Halliday

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Tree contest:

Tree contest
4/20/11
Roxanna Johnson

"To hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature."
                  
                          ****

Branches sway
in this warm season of early May.

Hot sands and bare feet
sounds of ocean waves cool the afternoon heat.

Cold drinks and lawn chairs sit underneath my special tree.
This is the happiest I'll ever be.

Lying here with large palms shading my eyes
I watch boats on the emerging tide rise.

This tree provides shade on hot days
it soothes and comforts me in some ways.

It is a beautiful tall palm tree that makes me smile. 
Now I think I'll just lie under it for a long while.

Copyright © Roxanna Ressler

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TREE OF LIFE



There is a wit that sows the seed:
Beauty now fits a voice that feeds.


Watch the stillness prompt a sweet trance:
Be a witness to life's pure dance.


Here for a while, find actual voice:
Live a brief smile with easy choice.


The echoes come to greet the strife:
The cycles sum the tree of life.


Joy in this sphere seems frail and brief:
Set sail from here as cheer prunes grief.


Look to the wind to fly away:
Rise above dream to make dream pay.


The seasons change with contrast sharp:
Accept things strange as music harps.


Go forward then to meet your fate:
Create just when things seem too late.


Be beyond fear that stifles hope:
Faith primes and cheers to frame new scope.


Fulfill your lot in time and space:
Live easy plot with fond embrace.


The void awaits the sojourn brave:
You're never late dear foolish knave.


Brief are your days out in the sun:
Sight rainbow rays as life makes fun.




Leon Enriquez
15 March 2015
Singapore

Copyright © Leon Enriquez

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Green Leaves of Spring

 couplets 

Surveying green, leaves me somewhat unfazed;
‘til spring leaves appear and my eyebrows raise.

Riddle, ma riddle, ma riddle me green,
how many shades of green can be seen?

There’s teal and pine, and most common - chartreuse.
Some leaves are olive, the evergreen’s spruce.

What of mint and moss and there’s lime or jade?
Brownish-specked hazel, my least fav’rite shade. 

The leaves of spring are all about green;
it’s the revival of life that we keen.

When bare trees of winter begin to grow
I go for a drive and watch nature’s show.


written 21 Mar 2015 
for Francine's It's Spring, Show Me the Green contest

Copyright © Reason A. Poteet

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Problems on a Tree

If problems were like twigs on a tree
A gust of wind blowing them in the breeze

They would fall to the ground one by one
Family and friends would help and gather around

But that is not how it happens as life surrounds
Sometimes the twigs just keep falling down

Family and friends start to leave
And you are left with one big heap

Heavy on your shoulders they do weigh
More falling day by day

Realizing it is just too much to bear
Frankly, feeling this is quite unfair

So, deciding you cannot solve them all
Put those in a pile and call U-Haul.

©Holly P. Moore
    February 2013

(U-Haul provides trailers and different size trucks for hauling various items)

Copyright © HOLLY MOORE

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Beneath The Tree

A tackle trunk beneath a tree.
It's knurled top a bright red-brown.
A rod leaned up against it's side
bought at a store from the next town.

A magic moment held in time
by elves for parents that I pride,
but not for gifts at Christmas time;
for thoughts abound and in their stride.

The tree Blue Spruce with silver boughs
seen standing still in vacant air.
The room aglow with warmth and wishes.
The first to view as though a prayer.

Copyright © Trevor McLeod

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THE DARK SHADE OF THE COCONUT-TREE

The dark shade of the coconut tree...
Leaves an eerie silence in me...
While I stare through the window in dead midnight...
Looking for some comfort in the darkness quiet...!

It has dark foliage...dark fruits...
Dark like the soil behind the roots...
Dark like darkness...dark like Hell...
Sinister like the sound of death-knell...!

Some invisible bird...
with its dark dark voice...
Disturbs the Night's tranquil poise...
And a gust of wind...like a water-stream...
Diffuses to my night & dream...

Dark dreams....dark thoughts again....
Like the unheard yell of the tree in pain....!
As though I'm the tree's lone translator...
To read & write about its dark dark chatter...!

Copyright © DEBASISH MISHRA

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For The Eyes To See

The winds that blow at the top of the trees.
Make the leaves, and the limbs, and the branches weave.
Stare and stir, till your heart's content.
At the mountains of forest, and the mountains of leaves.
Mountains of loneliness.For the eyes to see..

The trees that whimper.The trees that sway.
Bring mixtures of motions-motions conceived.
A mixture of motions, at the top of the trees.
The limbs, and the branches, they never give way.
The branches too sturdy.Too sturdy they be.
Limbs and branches.For the eyes to see..

Mountains, and mountains, and mountains of trees.
Winds bring mountains-mountains of leaves.
Leaves of green, and leaves of brown.
Watch the leaves as they fall to the ground.
Leaves from trees.For the eyes to see..

Whistling winds.Trees that weep.
Droplets of sap.Droplets that seep.
Droplets that seep, from the trees that weep.
Towering trees.Trees that tower.
Trees that tower over me.
Towering trees.For the eyes to see..

Mountains of brown.Mountains for all.
These mountains they glow the color of fall.
The color of fall's the color for me.
As the leaves come down.Leaves of brown.
Leaves of brown, they're all around.
All around.For the eyes to see.

The mountains and forest seem to lie still.
As the winds calm down.On this blundering hill.
The leaves on the trees.They rest in place.
These mountains of trees.They're never erased.
Never erased, are these mountains of trees.
Mountains of trees.For the eyes to see..

Seasonal-Nature-Poem by Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 1982,2014..
ALL rights reserved..

Copyright © Kim Robin Edwards

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CAN'T SAY LOL ANYMORE

     

 work is worship
 Goddess of beauty
soldier on warship
training's my duty

summer vacation
full of perspiration
sweating vocation
weak respiration
 
new faces to notice
from pan India
to break the ice
minding trivia

can't climb "poetree"
for two months
I'm travel spree
away from sons

voice to dole
satisfy each soul

job of Amol
to give all LOL..!!




Copyright © amolkumar udarwar