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Age Tree Poems | Age Poems About Tree

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

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Details | Rhyme | |

Out of the Sun

              Stayed 
             in the sun 
              to long
               today
 The skin became the bark of a tree
 the soul turning to brittle scars
 for uncaring worlds to see.
             my face
            is a pile of 
           old owl bones
sewn into banks of midnight creeks...
even the plump, over ripened ones 
no longer look at me...
but if their car was desert flat,
their oil grim reaper black
they'd paint a wormy, water colored  smile...
slide it through my barbed wired heart
so long as I could spin the jack...
so I spin it until their potholes turn to satin-
               Stayed 
              in the sun
               to long
                today
the mind has smoothed over 
like pebbles in Saturn rings..
a forgotten spice in the conversation of life
an hour later the word snuggles up to me
               laughingly.

Tomorrow or forever( which ever comes first),
I'll stay wrapped inside
till my skin turns back to ivory
to an easter egg yesterday 
to a time of bouncing ball and spinning jack,
when the mind was a great silky nest...
the face a flowered meadow place 
where watercolors swirled all day, 
the heartworms kept at bay.

I'll stay hidden within the briar, 
till the jewels of memories sooth 
every scar - every stripe,
the molten knots of cruelty,
till the sweetened fruit reclaims the tree.
until then only my curtains breathe...
       ...stayed in the sun 
              to long
                today





Details | Light Poetry | |

The Education of Little Tree

Little Tree frisked in the breeze reaching for Willow, wanting to tease His haste to embrace caused her to slap. Oh, how he stung from her thunderous clap! Old Tree brushed away the tears of Little Tree, using bushy limbs wrinkled with time When Little Tree finally stopped sobbing, Old Tree said: “Caution, child... tender wisps of willow bent gently in embrace may recoil with a vengeance upon release”


Details | Light Poetry | |

THE OAK AND I






                                                 THE 
                                           OAK AND  I
                                     .............................
                            The last brown leaves..  windblown.. 
               descend
                                      This is the Autumn of my life...
                                                                               and i am here...
          The old oak....bare , 
                                                                       a reminder , unadorned 
Strength.... 
                           against the weathers cycles...thrown
                                                                     Sturdy to the end, 
                    will shed its coat..time again
                             And time will only be....numbers
                                    Yet I age ,.............
                                i shed my hair, i wither...
                                    ............i die............
                                      time for me,Is never
                                      ......just numbers....
                                      ....... I envy the tree , 
                                        ..... the beautiful.... 
                                       ......  timeless tree ....
                                       ...........A reminder......
                                        .....that i am nothing ..
                                       ...........compared........
                                        I am but dust to be,...
                              .........my  roots ,.Are my children........ 
                        ...............They Will create my history................
               ............................and remember......................................
            ........................................Me....................................................


Details | Rhyme | |

Memories on Branches

How did a cherry kiss? Bitter flower petals with sweet pistils.
So laden they act as halos while we breathe the love
in a pink hollow, silence sounding like taste, acting like epistle
to hold this moment in a silvery image, like moon, or  dove
low, low, a bowl formed while sunshine flickers above.

Chains of yellow petals hang over our deck, the leaves hands--
offer welcome resting branch, our sheltered home.
Seeds follow close, fragile like beans, hard case to feed the land
crawl before God, they say, be grateful as we weed and stir loam.
Together seeds and flowers and hands make a life a poem.

Awaiting the sumac, the flame at summer's ending is fruitless
we've passed the feathering, the pimping of red underneath bristle
the deer horn softness crawling out in oddest places in a mess
lining the sand pond, above the purpled iris, the pestle
of stone and sun, no rain to bring down sumac's fiery trestle.

Vulturous crows squawk and fight the ring-billed sea gulls
waiting, one in the bared hollow hands of the cottonwood
the other fat-bellied and waddling after rain finally dulls
we're under hoodies,  under shivers, our neighborhood
waits the pinking and mossing, will it unfurl new wood?


Details | Rhyme | |

The tree of life

A lonely tree stands in a field
Branches entwined in one
And as those branches come to life
They reach up to the sun

This tree with all it's energy
just like a woman so it be
It's branches swaying in the breeze
just like a mother's offspring, these

And so the lonely tree does age
The human kind out living
But we all end up just the same
Our flesh to earth be giving

And thus our lives all end the same
No matter what we be
Some have long lives, some much less
In life's sweet mystery


Details | Light Poetry | |

Little Tree

Little Tree danced… acrobatic and erratic and emphatic frenetic! Little Tree danced… tossing and turning and swaying braying! the chaining winds of youth leading him in every direction at once. “Oh,” he cried, “I so want to spread my powerful branches to the corners of the earth! Please, please, PLEASE!” he begged the breeze, “Scatter my seeds to, to, to... TO EVERYWHERE!” Little tree shook so hard in his frantic fluffle it made all his cones fall on the ground ...right beneath him. Old Tree, watching, smiled. “Will be a while, but he will grow.” Little Tree, limbs limp at his side, pouted.


Details | Ballad | |

Ode to a Cherry Tree

Peering through plate glass at a puzzling view, In the midst of hot coffee’s morning ritual brew. Staring out with amazement and wonderfully struck, By our Cherry Tree’s overnight sensation run amuck! By nature’s own standard, cruel joke she has played, Million blossoms wide open one February day. This juvenile sapling knows not what it feels, Sprouting vivid Pink colors, the show it now steals. From those all around laying dormant in state, Expecting nature’s cue to blossom their own petals awake. And by then poor young cherry will have muted her splash, Replaced by green leaves summer storms will soon thrash. But alas all this splendor making warm visual sense, In the short time required for fresh java to dispense. Tomorrow I’ll once again observe through plate glass, The wonders waiting just beyond cold winter’s Rye Grass. Submitted to Giorgio A. V. Contest themed: Impress me with a small poem II! 1) user name: wedge 2) choice of motif: nature


Details | Nonet | |

The Tree and Me


    Everyday as i pass the old tree

        i compare myself to the limbs

            branches hanging lower now

                leaves dropping and bark scarred

                    the deep roots un-earthed

                        tree house fallen

                            glory days

                                lost in

                                    time...

Contest: The Old Age
Form: Nonet
Sponsored by:  Dr. Ram Mehta

Poems by Shar


Details | Verse | |

Can You See The Cookie Tree

I was walking in the park last week,
when to me, a young boy did speak.
'Excuse me mister can you tell me,
where can I find a cookie tree?
I know that there are some in here,
and I've been told that they are near,
yes, before I was the age of three,
I knew all about the cookie tree!
I've never seen one yet, although,
they're definitely here, yes this I know,
as from a very young age they've told me so,
that cookie trees in this park grow.
So come on mister, tell me please,
where in this park are the cookie trees?
I have to find them before I'm old,
and they're definitely here, because I've been told.'

I answered him in the following way.
'Since I was young I've come to play,
and wander freely all around this park,
but your question leaves me in the dark.
Because, never once in all this time,
have I come across any sign,
to tell me that cookies grow on trees,
where did you get your info please? '
Straight away, the kid replied.
'Oh well, you're the first one that I've tried.
I didn't think I'd do it with ease,
you know, find the orchard of cookie trees.
So I'll carry on until I find,
someone who believes, and isn't blind,
yes a person who really, truly agrees,
with the fact that cookies grow on trees!


Details | Free verse | |

If I Shall Grow Old 2K13

If these eyes shall become blinded, and if this
hair shall come to be combed thinly and grey;
No, it would not be the end of the world.
I would still see beauty therein this world through
the songs of Crickets and Feathered Songsters.
The breeze would yet whisper and trees still dance.
I would yet smell the freshly bloom of Spring.
I'd still endure Summer's sweltering heat.
I'd yet feel Autumn's leaves crunch 'neath these toes.
I'd still long to be fireside with Winter.
Disabled or not, perhaps I'd yet walk
therein wonderful imagination.
How I'd be forever young at heart!
Then just as one journey came to an end,
I'd indeed greet another with a smile.


Details | Free verse | |

The Willow Tree

I am
The willow tree
I am joy and I am sorrow
I am unmoving but free
I am what everyone is
But what few people can be

I have lived through many days and many years
And I have gained much wisdom and peace just by listening
I have witnessed much laughter and heartbreak
In the flat, flowering field that I stand in
I have had many children swing and tug on my vines
And have felt love and joy as if they were mine

But just because I am wise and old
Does not mean I am not strong
For many years I have withstood raging rains and wicked winds
Like a concrete wall
With my love of life to help me along

So when my time comes to an end
When my curtain is starting to close
I will be tired and spent
But peaceful and content
With the great knowledge that:

I was
The willow tree
I was joy and I was sorrow
I was unmoving but free
I was what everyone is
But what few people can be
I was alive.


Details | Haiku | |

Nature's Meter

ancient redwood gleams
softly through the mists of time…
mayfly flitters by

-08 Jun 2014-

Average Lifespan:
Redwood Tree - 600 years
Mayfly - 1 day


Details | Quatrain | |

Leaves That Are Green


A young bud sprouts from its parent plant
and blossoms to a lovely rose before long
With time, its beauty fades and it dries up
and the leaves that are green turn to brown

A young sapling takes root and flourishes
Soon a mighty oak stands firm on the ground
With time, it decays to a dried up old tree
and the leaves that are green turn to brown

A baby bird sitting helplessly in its nest
grows into a majestic eagle strong
With time, its glory fades as it ages
and the leaves that are green turn to brown

A defenceless lion cub hidden in its lair
matures into the mightiest beast around
With time, he becomes a decrepit old male
and the leaves that are green turn to brown

A beautiful angelic darling baby girl
becomes a world beauty and wins the crown
With time, wrinkles and old age take their toll
and the leaves that are green turn to brown

Hello to a new life of hope and promise
Goodbye to a life that's now going down
Time marches on irreversibly 
and the leaves that are green turn to brown





All life starts off fresh and beautiful, matures, decays and then passes away in an unavoidable cycle as Time marches on irreversibly.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

LIKE FALLEN LEAVES

     LIKE FALLEN LEAVES…


                     I

Here in the winter of my long lived life,
the leaves of my head now fall to the ground.
Destined like leaves of trees gone dead, 
the winter winds will soon blow my dust around;
and like fallen leaves, I’ll be done with this world’s strife.

Oh but when the scythe of time snips my thread,
would if I could be like leaves of trees---
who in due season, go happily to their death:
leaving their wooded---naked bones with nothing left
but the bark of reason guarding their earthy homes
through whose lonely arms, the chilly breeze freely roams. 

Yet, for these trees, another season comes like the mornings’ dew;
And they shall rise up from winter’s purgatory and begin life anew.

                          II

And though the sojourn here has had its moments of despair,
the flames of  love, faith and  hope have always been there.
So when I’m gone, weep only tears of joy for me;
for I know why the empty cross was made of the wood of a tree.  


Details | Tanka | |

Succumbing to Time

Derelict now cold Mossed stones in sporadic spill Ageing arms out spread They, competing for the light Sadly, both succumb to time .


Details | Sijo | |

Beneath The Willow Tree


Loving long beneath the moon, the willow tree our canopy
Sweet the words we murmured soft, promising all, expecting all
Innocence, before the willow cries for lost youth , so fleeting....

Holding hands, 'neath the willow, remembering youthful passion
Peaceful moon, a deeper love transcending time, circumstances
Closing doors, a great mystery they face at last, together 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Hangers On

The pale yellow leaves
 seem painted on the tree
 in water color,
 revealing sclerotic veins
 they spin and tremble gay
 without telling or being asked 
 hanging on while those 
 whose time has come 
 drop as doomed snow flakes
 striking the sidewalk
 with hollow thumps,
 a regular rhythm as 
 the ticking of a loud clock.
 Visibly the holocaust moves forward,
 the metamorphosis of a painting,
 the tree becomes more pitiful
 it's black nudity emerging from 
 yellow dabs in the unseen wind
 tugging at the twirling hangers-on
 and sending a dense swatch
 of the fallen scurrying
 across the street en masse
 as a hungry mob.


Details | Light Poetry | |

Old Tree

Old Tree sat heavily ‘pon haunches,
his trunk gnarled and scarred,
wounds unsought but gotten

His cronies perched ‘round him sighed as well.
Gathered they were, today,
in varied shades of gray.

The end was inevitable...none escaped, they knew.
Gone were many — burned, or, cut down
before their time.

Some were cynical, forever grasping at solutions
from within those many learned rings of experience... 
a few burls of wisdom, most often inadequate.

All watched the forest parade.
Tender willows captured most glances,
appreciated in different ways by each one.

Thought Old Tree to himself,
“The sights still excite, but my vision has changed.”
He pondered his daughters and the daughters of his friends...

“No,” he mused, “I will now look at beauty 
and find lasting joy, as I am no longer rooted
in the desires of my youth.”

The group sighed collectively...old whispers, oft repeated.
Old tree considered the blessing of aging,
“I love to watch the blossoms unfold...it is enough.”

“As long as I am able, I will use my branches to shelter
the tender saplings as they struggle to take root
in the soil of our ancestors.”

“When I become duff, I would like to be remembered
as a silly old shoot who titters forever, on the winds.”
“Yes, it would be enough.”


Details | Haiku | |

willow tree


willow tree weeps

as red owl hoots on frail branch...

clinging to old age 


Details | Quatrain | |

what do people born blind, never saw a tree, what do they dream about

                  WISE EYES

We all turn and read another page
Through the very eyes of age
Such wisdom  behind brown, green or blue
We all read that same page, even me and you

The eyes of age stare at a face
As we forget each kiss but recall every warming embrace
That face isn’t the one that once hid wanderlust
And now the eyes of age know who and who not to trust

Then to see what we’ve never seen before
And care not to see very much more
For flaccid is now what used to be a rock
And tightly pulled skin has surrendered to that old grandfather clock

There’s no getting around finding time and youth the same
Until time steals youth and only that damned clock is to blame
You’re just about ready to take your final  bow on life’s stage
As we all begin to see through the very eyes of age
              © 2011.…~ Phreepoetree free cee!~


Details | I do not know? | |

In the trees

Great Trees stand the test
of time, out living mankind. 
They may seem to be rooted 
still. Yet they have risen high
above the hills. With a outlook
over mans blood spills.

Through 
the years and centuries they
have surly seen and felt
what mankind has dealt.

It does not take eyes to thrive
of emotion. It does not take 
eyes to be alive. It does not take 
eyes to see at all.

These tall Trees tower above us all
taking in things and free of sin.
Mankind could learn from these
magnificent creations.

After all trees,
vast forests are our tall still saviours.
Giving us our breath, saving us from
a gasping death. "We can't see 
the forest for the trees"


Details | Sonnet | |

That Old Tree Was Loved

That Old Tree Was Loved
That old tree had weathered many storms past
Veteran of countless intense brush fires
Giant limbs still grew strong and very fast
Yet this summer, one can see where it tires.

Broken limb , dangling about thirty feet up
Huge hole burnt in deep by last big burn
Dried out looking for water from drought's cup
If it dies this year , so it was its turn.

Child of nine swung from its lofty branches
Climbing so very high for a huge thrill
Tree was life and we daring to take chances
To see farther, what lay over the next hill.

A picture of old and ancient life now gone.
Remembering, this heart again feels so alone!

Robert J. Lindley, 07-28-2015


Note- Yes this old tree existed on the farm . 
As a young child I marveled at its size and beauty. 
When I turned 45 years old I went back to see if it was still there.
 Only a huge stump remained.
For me as a child it was the greatest toy in world.........


Details | Haiku | |

Naked Tree

Naked is the tree
Of life, history unfolds
Wise eyes absorb the truth


Details | Light Poetry | |

Chance and Circumstance

Pulled back from the
bricks.
Enlarged visuals
(warping) ancient
hieroglyphics run
and storming.
Judging me unusually
quick.
Laden and laced with
a dusty light.
A not so bright line
carves slight and
delicate curves in
stone so thick not
wind, nor water, nor
our time not even my
mind could strip it
.
Mouth bone dry.
Swollen liquid caps
sit still on green
and gold trees.
Leaves unsure,
quiver with a
weather-focused
system of beliefs.
Climbing with
endurance and
falling as is
determined. 
Leaving it all to
the wind, to chance
and circumstance.


Details | Free verse | |

On The Mortal Edge

Old oak takes time to grow intense
Each year tumbles wrinkled leaves before the snow 
Slow in the morning to rise higher
Shad covers mortality below
Cracking branches show maturity
Limp on the timber twigs
Lingering still beneath cold bark
Sparrow eggs in nesting homes up there
Oval is their nature; wait to crack
Smaller birds spin blue and yellow
Weave speed like magic on the air
Through dark ages of green foliage
Collisions are rare while darting tangled obstacles 
In an out instinctively
Old oak compliments the activity
With good intentions the tree holds fast
Bare to exposure, the fragility of life 
Through the mortal edge birds fly


Details | I do not know? | |

The Tree

And when we woke it was like nothing
Ever dreamed before this, neck, 
The hollow behind the knee, your hair

Filling my hands, all of it while we turned
And turned until we were unforgivable,
Adamant with bark, as if a wayward god had come

Upon us, bewitching breast to breast, fingers
Still tracing a vein, a thigh
No longer intent on destination

But in the keep of one limb resting on another,breath 
lingering in leaves, at the edge of a road
Where we were once lost, your hand faithful

In its nest, your mouth on my mouth
Caught, our feet tangled, looking for earth.


Details | Free verse | |

Her Lost Story

A little girl, not yet the age of thirteen 
Plays alone amongst the bushes and the trees
Innocent and playful are her heart and mind
Graciously untouched by the harmful, unkind
Leaves begin to fall all about; revolving around her delicate feet
They glide down like paper; the weight of their sorrow forcing them to defeat
A young river, now full of life, flows swiftly nearby
Its sparkling clear beauty, glimmers of new light, shimmering down from the new day’s sky
The river slowly begins to cool
Its gentle touch is soft as the lamb’s freshly woven spool
The fog from the water creates new scene
A scene in her head that appears to be unclean
A chill from the winds creeps up her spine
Spreading in ridges leaving all kinds of lines
The thought of fear never crosses her mind
Not even the moment she is stuck from behind
The darkness of shadows drains into her sight
She is unwilling, unable to move or fight
The cold river once clear, is now filled with fog and color
Color like the leaves left behind by the earth mother
A warm wind blows along the bends
From the east; caring swift voices till they descend
The voices seem calm enough
Showing only glitches of the strong willed, the tough
Soon into the night they grow with greed and envy
Then slowly die out with the sounds of her pleas
A little girl not yet the age of thirteen 
Died alone, by a river; she was crushed by a falling tree
Not one heard the tree fall
Nor the screams of her call
Her body never to be found
Left to rot between the tree and the ground
Yet her spirit lives on
Living for the nature far beyond