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Death Tree Poems | Death Poems About Tree

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

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Details | Crystalline | |

Seeing Autumn's oak adorn

Painting sky before I was born,
Draping my grave in leaf and acorn.

----------------------------
Contest: Crystalline
Sponsor: Rick Parise
11.22.14


Details | Rhyme | |

Revive the Breakage

High upon the highest heights I see the most tremulous sight A small girl, fair and tranquil Smiling strangely, sitting still Beneath a sobbing willow tree She recites a verse upon her knee She sings a rhythmic hymn Not of death, nothing grim But prays that life will return Even for those who are doomed to burn The girl is a woman now Beneath the tree and upon the cloud She whispers, “I am watching you” Why then are you so blue? A single tear of sadness and joy Rejuvenate the quirky earthly boy Who sits down beneath the blooming tree Listening to her silent voice attentively She reminds him she was once young too That she also was a misty shade of blue But when the boy grows into man He has come to ignore the fair woman Who watches him still from above Burning and swelling with disdainful love The ways of the world have sweltered his heart And time has torn his soul apart Thus he has lost all innocence and light Battling his sinful lust—an endless plight! I watch as he feeds on others’ pains and fears Reducing the vigilant woman to tears The prayer of the innocent has been ignored Life has died and hellfire stored Into the hearts of the impotent In blue, fires of haze their heart is sent Toiling in misery and lament Savaged and severed by our regret The heavenly woman grows old and frail And the man still treads the sinful trail As the rotting tree withers into dust Can I revive it? –I must! Low as low can possibly be I watch myself condescendingly A tombstone, gray and hell-bent Frowning knowingly in bewilderment Above the dust that once was a tree She cries out a verse anxiously Faintly she whispers the undying hymn Not of happiness, nothing of whim And prays that life will come to end For those that break instead of bend


Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

Abbey


Amid the woods and snow he saw her form,
predestined oracle he sensed this was,
her recollected glance, was lone in storm,
outside the chapel she became first cause .

Lit were the chandelier's ocher chandelles,
his heartbeat thrummed an airy rhythmic spell,
the forest snowstorm reeled - shaped ghostly belles
invited him beneath the ringing knell.

Their Angel's bliss, his soul received in flames,
adept and kind the whisper of her voice,
"- Forgiveness calms those who indulge in blames;
devoutness is the prelude of free choice."

Outside he stepped beneath the Abbey's knell:
His voice dispersed above the snow and mass,
in cold embraced the iron wrought of bells,
- as waxen light passed through the chapel's glass.

His mind and woods enjoined in forceful prayer,
spells sacrosanct and numinous instilled,
in abstinence the sanctified abbe,
abandoned Convent life to years and thrills.

Escaped then he, to meet the woods in dark,
amidst their sovereign heights he was her groom,
continuum of time and space to arc,
his childhood's wraith became in mists and tomb.

© G. V. 01-04-2012 All rights reserved
(Iambic Pentameter)


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 | Rhyme | |

" Logic? "

To every thing there is a season,
A time to bring the reasoning,
Higher logic` of heart’s project,
Into view, for the mind to review,

For some say the mind`  is the only logic,
Leaving love’s heart without a project,

This mistake, takes the cake,
From this illusion` humanity must awake,

For tis the season` for higher reasoning,
And this will we do, as through God we pursue,

Love’s higher logic` God’s higher project,
An undertaking` of re-awakening,
A mind asleep, by it’s peep,

God’s Logic; the cosmic of higher mind’s project,......................................(Isaiah 55:8-9)
Love’s Faith; built on higher logic,..............................................(Hebrews 11:1-3 & 5-6)
Not on humanity’s`  earthly minded projects,
For it will always try to dodge it,
By lower logic,
Actually` enough said,  the lower mind level logic` is dead,.......................(Genesis 2:16-17)

While actually, God’s higher logic, the cosmic mind’s project, did not dodge it, 
Respect of  love`  gave the choice to man, the level of plan,
By level of chosen logic, man chose his own project,
By tree of life, or tree of strife, 
Would it be life, by tree of life,
Or death’s tree, of the mind’s strife,
The heart's, sacred start,
Or mind’s depart, from it’s heart,

Now you know the rest of the story, life’s glory,
For death was impaled, the stake did not fail, love swelled,...............(Colossians 2:13-14)
Drawing us all by love,  above,
The logic of death,
That death`  the mind did bequeathed,
Leave the dead dogs, lying in the grass,
For death has passed!!

 Dedication; "Diogenes Zuniga " I though of your personal undying faith in Love, the higher 
logic of God, who is love. All the while I was writing this, may God richly reward you with 
many fruits of love's logical righteousness, for it is the true riches of heaven. Stay logical, in 
love, my brother. Sincerely, Moses 

9-25-09 johnmosesfreeman@yahoo.com


Details | Epigram | |

WHY BE A NAKED TREE

Why be a naked tree and endure winter's agony?
It should be forever warm and sunny...
to watch wild flowers grow by a spring!
Why be a naked tree and be unable to think?


Details | Haiku | |

Haiku 9 Life

lodgepoles pines fall 
dead, beetle attack, new life
emerges -- aspens


Details | I do not know? | |

Alone A Tree In Mourning

A single bee
Alone a tree.
A single day in morning.
His slicker sly 
Of catching eyes.
His sweeter side of aging.
Like sticky seeds,
These blossom beads.
The winter plants are dying.
A drunken bee
Flies lazily,
Brought down by nectar drinking.

Our springs are wet
With sweet forgets.
Our hearts forever bleeding.
Our summers heat,
These days retreat,
Our only summer setting.
Our summers die
In lullabies.
I wish I wont stop dreaming.
A passer by
I might ask why
Alone a tree in morning?

And possibly 
He’d die to be 
My only glimpse of fleeting.
Without a care 
Our pulses dare
To reach the height of running.
A gentle sigh,
An open mind,
Holds within each waiting.

His ancient cry
Of reasons why.
His simple song of saving.
I'll never die 
He'll say tonight
While other dawns are breaking.
A passer by,
I might ask why
Alone a tree in mourning? 


Details | I do not know? | |

WISHING, HOPING ,PRAYING

Wishing, Hoping, Praying

I wish so badly that I was dead
Found in a tree hung under head
The tender kiss felt from a rope
Its for this end that I do hope
To end the pain felt day to day
Its for my death that I do pray
So I am wishing, hoping and praying
That from a tree ill soon be swaying
Its not the fear of being dead
Its living life that I do dread
Its living in this hell on earth
To the day I die back to my birth
And all the days in between
Make this life seem so obscene
So when the day does finally come
And to my wish I do succumb
Ill look and find a hopeful tree
Then ill pray on bended knee
Ill climb the tree a limb up high
And to my neck the rope apply
Look around give one last sigh
And when I drop begin to cry

By Mr. E. Jones


Details | I do not know? | |

Solomon Mahlangu: My Blood will Nourish the Tree that will Bear the Fruits of Freedom

(special thanks to a friend who shared this tribute to Solomon Mahlangu)



Solomon Mahlangu: My Blood will Nourish the Tree that will Bear the Fruits of Freedom:



Solomon Mahlangu was trained as an MK soldier with a view to later rejoining the struggle in the country.


He left South Africa after the Soweto Uprising of 1976 when he was 19 years old, and was later chosen to be part of an elite force to return to South Africa to carry out a mission commemorating the June 16th 1976 Soweto student uprising.


After entering South Africa through Swaziland and meeting his fellow comrades in Duduza, on the East Rand (east of Johannesburg), they were accosted by the police in Goch Street in Johannesburg.


In the ensuing gun battle two civilians were killed and two were injured, and Mahlangu and Motloung were captured while acting as decoys so that the other comrade could go and report to the MK leadership.


Motloung was brutally assaulted by the police to a point that he suffered brain damage and was unfit to stand trial, resulting in Mahlangu facing trial alone.


He was charged with two counts of murder and several charges under the Terrorism Act, to which he pleaded not guilty.


Though the judge accepted that Motloung was responsible for the killings, common purpose was argued and Mahlangu was found guilty on two counts of murder and other charges under the Terrorism Act.


On 15 June 1978 Solomon Mahlangu was refused leave to appeal his sentence by the Rand Supreme Court, and on 24 July 1978 he was refused again in the Bloemfontein Appeal Court.


Although various governments, the United Nations, International Organizations, groups and prominent individuals attempted to intercede on his behalf, Mahlangu awaited his execution in Pretoria Central Prison, and was hanged on 6 April 1979.


His hanging provoked international protest and condemnation of South Africa and Apartheid.


In fear of crowd reaction at the funeral the police decided to bury Mahlangu in Atteridgeville in Pretoria.


On 6 April 1993 he was re-interred at the Mamelodi Cemetery, where a plaque states his last words:


‘My blood will nourish the tree that will bear the fruits of freedom.

Tell my people that I love them.

They must continue the fight.’



Mahlangu died for a cause!



Salute!



The Struggle Continues…




(special thanks to a friend who shared this tribute to Solomon Mahlangu)


Details | Ballade | |

Fallen tree

Fallen Tree.

A fallen tree lies on the ground
Its life, long disappeared
It lies there dead and bent and burned
And yet in death it’s weird
The pattern of its silent branches
Have a life all of their own
All grey and gnarled and petrified
As I stand here all alone.

In death there be a certain beauty
One only has to look
The sacred truth be all around
Which can’t be found in books
This great old tree that’s fallen down
It’s considered now diseased
And yet it emphasizes life
Life’s power be increased.

For all the bush looks more alive
Against this fallen tower
In death it seems to magnify
The force of nature’s power
As its branches etched against the sky
They seem to wave and dance
In this spot among the bush land trails
It seems that life’s enhanced




Details | Villanelle | |

Deadly Raven

Sitting atop the old decaying tree Is a deadly raven quite pathetic Where his lusting eyes do more than just see An unsuspecting group thinks they are free Raven thinks of a move that’s genetic Sitting atop the old decaying tree No-one knows what it’s like to truly be One of this group, death is just magnetic Where his lusting eyes do more than just see Down he swoops taking one soul completely Returns to tree, looking quite poetic Sitting atop the old decaying tree The raven smiles as he caws wickedly Soul collecting might be more aesthetic Where his lusting eyes do more than just see The raven flies high looking lustfully All that he’s collected that’s prophetic Sitting atop the old decaying tree Where his lusting eyes do more than just see
Russell Sivey


Details | Rhyme | |

Why all this Destructions

Why all this Destructions? – Zamreen Zarook

God created this whole universe for the mankind,
He gave everything lavishly, thinking that we might be kind,
Even though people are able, they seems to be blind,
Whereas people failed to mind.

The sky which was created for the man started to scream and cry,
Since good morals and ethics were decry,
The fire started to do the mimicry,
As the water lands cannot bear, it came to man with a battle cry.

Land couldn't hold and it started to gorge,
Fresh air merged with chemicals and started to urge,
Whatever created for the man have started to over charged,
Stop evil and let the merits be enlarged.


Details | Lyric | |

Autumn, Lit.Op.3

Oh summer sun’s dusk, the last of its kind!
Now season to tame the bloom that was wild,
Dyed leaves in the air and their rushing sound,
Go dance in the wind like flares in the ground,

This time it’s his time to wither and die,
This Tree that stood straight front my window by,
Those summers and springs while all looked up high,
It hinders my sight- see Venus in sky,

But now it’s his time to wither and die,
This tree that stood straight front my window by,
Now I am among that can cherish her,
Gone in my perspective- all the Tree’s blur,

I saw her meet the leafy winds of fall,
And through the cold her grace and beauty crawl,
This winter and fall we all looked up high,
At last so I see, I see her in sky!

But this spring had sprung along with its bloom,
The tokens of past are the guilt and gloom,
Rise in its remains front my window by,
Hence there I had gazed my loss as I cry,

“In the humid air as drenched earth below,
Down to his shade where there I was spared so,
And back the days where my peace was at stake,
The anger I shared- these all for my sake,”

For those where his deeds whom I had seen least,
They all were unveiled as now he’s deceased,
So here I see forth- winter! Oh its grief!
Dyed are in the air; last sun’s gloomy leaf,

Shame! Fool, I was fooled. Sweet lies in her hands,
Thus so I’m to look his corpse where this stands…
Front my window by. Radiates those good nights,
I send my rejects to all her invites!

-oOo-


Details | Free verse | |

Work

Work.
Toil.
The pain I put in the ground.
For such a precious thing.
Corn. 
The family enjoys their meal.
They plant their leftover kernels.
And wait for me to tend to them.
Work. 
An endless cycle in which happiness is born.


©Demand4poetry
21 February 2013


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 | Villanelle | |

Something Stirring

As night descends, casting darkness
all is silent and so very still
waiting, listening, and breathless

Into the dark of nights coldness
do you feel it, that stone cold chill
as night descends, casting darkness

The cold seeping chilling  denseness
it seems to invade , to instill
waiting, listening, and breathless

Something  stirring in the blackness
the noises now loud and so shrill
as night descends, casting darkness 

Death shows his face full of graveness
in the dark stands waiting to kill
waiting, listening and breathless 

Now life seeps away, its painless
just a gasp then it flees noiseless
as night descends, casting darkness
waiting, listening and breathless


Details | Haiku | |

hanging around

as the wind blows south
the poplar tree saps black blood
soaked are roots with pride


Details | Free verse | |

Being hunted

i sprint through the forest escaping the dark of night when i see it, the tree, the tree that sways apart from itself, grass still most with the dew of dawn i lean and indulge  into the greenery, disregard overpowers me as i find myself unaware of the tree's fatal intentions, i look into the tree trying to find something beyond  it, something more, and i do, and there she is, hideous, revolting, murderous, human, once i saw her i only got two steps before the razors entered  my body, but i keep running until the loss of blood consumes me, my last thought was, "humans, what do they not kill, destroy, take"


Details | Ballade | |

Evening lullaby

Oh hear thee well the music
It’s the Maggies lullaby
They’re warbling in that Banksia tree
As the day begins to die.
And their haunting goodnight serenade
Says goodbye to the day
As the Sun lies down to sleep the night away.

Just four weeks from our Spring
My heart feels so alive
As I’m sitting on my garden seat
It be an hour since five.
And as those maggies hush their song
The fountain carries on
She’ll still be heard when all be hushed and gone.

Six Buddha’s seem to sense the silence
There’s a certain kind of glow
As I melt into the evening time
And  swim within the flow.
And the evening says “it’s time to rest
Until the blessed morn
Now each must die, on the morrow be reborn”.

17 July 2004


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Broken but Living

On the hill top staring out to the bottom
Life seems so far from me 
Up to the heavens I look and pray as I am on my knee
Living life like an unwatched DVD
Up on this hill I continue to stand under this broken tree

The branches are withered and falling
The leaves have gone and disappeared into the wind
No life lives in the tree for it is broken
Receiving no love not even a token
The roots can no longer grow
The cuts and bruises on the tree are finally starting to show

For life is a branch because we have those to hold us up
The leaves are that of our comfort in which blew away
No life left in us we are just taking life breath by breath barley living
No love from others is even being offered
Without love we stand on the lonely hill to die
All the pain and agony we went through we can no longer hold back as we start to cry

Cold as the wind hits our stump
Time and time again we think what’s the point I am just going to jump
As it is the only reason why I am still living because my heart continues to pump
Thunder or lightning doesn’t even phase us not even a bump
For it just leaves another mark another scar another lump

Rain hides the tears we shed in the life we are forced to live
Without receiving any love we lost all ways to even know how to give
We are forced to learn how to make it through and survive
But with so little life left in us how do they expect us to drive
For we are just on this earth waiting for God to arrive

Not only hurting on the inside but also on the out
Living life broken and full of doubt
Not counting on anyone as a small leaf can’t even seem to sprout
On this hill top where I live its now becoming a drought 
Is this what life is really about?

One day this life will end
All the pain, hurt, coldness, agony, will descend
Where are those in which I called a friend
But no matter what if thou die alone I will still be forgiving
Even thou on a hill top left, I am broken but still living

© Jeremy Fennell


Details | Verse | |

For children murdered in school

I have ponder it waking long
Curled around my pillow like a fog
What was it the morning stars sang
Before a tree became a fire log?

I do not think I like this place
This limitless paradise of ease
Where serpents crawl and goodness waste
Our callous discontent to appease

The next time when children huddled
Expire in blood, mark my word, the snake
Will in some theory cuddled
Earn redemption from fire and the stake

They mourn for rights of arms despite
The constitution's outworn belief
The trust of law could still ignite
The land in despot's horror and grief

I shall mourn for mothers and me
Mourn for children murdered by our greed
For power, and the serpent I see
Is ego slinking through the shallow weed

This paradise is not good. Too
Much freedom gives sin an open door
Just laws will not still protect the few
While terror thirsts for mayhem and gore

The tree of liberty has fruits
I do not like, faults that threatens me
For some claim limitless pursuits
That change freedom to insanity.


Details | Lyric | |

In Another Light

The best thing you can do about a suicide is understanding it.

The boy opens the door and walks by his mom
his mom says "how was school"
He doesnt respond 
he walks silently to his room
His mom turns away in sadness
"its dinner time Kurt" she yells up the stairs.
He walks slowly down the steps
Hiding something in his hand as he puts it in his pocket
His mother is setting the table
Putting meat on his plate 
He sits down unto the seat
not touching his food
"is there something wrong with it?" his mom asks
He doesnt look at her
"talk to me. why have you been ignoring me" she repeats.
He gets up off the chair and walks outside
Walking into the woods as his mom runs out
"get back here where are you going"

Every living thing dies alone." he writes in white on a tree in there back yard
He throws the rope over the toughest branch
He steps up unto a little chair
Tying the rope around his neck
The chair falls

His mom worries in panic
She cant find him anywhere
She waits up all night

The Next Morning"

She walks out to the garden
Looking up at a tree
She sees the fallen chair from behind a tall bush
She runs
Picking up the chair
Seeing the thing she never thought would have happened
She falls to her knees
A tear falls from her cheek
Not understanding 
Reading the words on the tree
Every living thing dies alone"
She wonders
Thinking
Crying

She untangles him from the tree and holds him
Talks gentle to him
Something she hasnt done in a while
Now grasping the meaning behind what he has done

The best thing you can do about a suicide is understanding the meaning behind it.


Details | Free verse | |

Life's Wholeness

Life and a living being
can never be separated
See one and you see
the other
Destroy one and you destroy 
the other
Pluck a flower from a tree
and dissect it 
to understand it
You no longer have that flower
as it existed
on the tree
You may have an understanding
of the relationship
between the components
of a dead flower
but you will have forever lost 
the totality of the experience
of the LIVING flower
To see the flower in 
its completeness
BECOME THE FLOWER
and understand a reality 
that can only be experienced
but can never be put into words
for the whole is more than
the sum of its parts


Details | Free verse | |

Just Blowing in the Wind

Just Blowing In The Wind

I am the last Oak leaf left near the top of this mighty Oak tree 
wondering what is to become of me
thousands of Oak leafs were here just a few days ago
now they are all gone
the night air begins to chill as the days get shorter
the beautiful emerald green color I once was
is now a scarlet red-- is this the color of death
Oak leafs by the thousands lay upon the cold hard ground
who once were friends of mine
and the mighty Oak tree is now bare except for me
the cold and chilly wind blows gently through the empty lonely branches
causing me to flutter and shutter
but I hold on even tighter for dear life clinging to my branch
as the wind calls out my name 
from so high atop this mighty Oak tree
I wonder is this what it’s all about
is this the end of my brief life       just one season 
laying down there with all the other scarlet red Oak leafs looking up at me
I wonder what my life’s accomplishments were I scream and shout 
but no one can hear my cries of pain was it all in vain
did I accomplish anything of worth while I was here
did I do what I was born to do
before my life is through
now I’m just blowing in the wind my friend
just blowing in the wind

Dennis Davis


Details | Tanka | |

One Lonely Tree

It weathered harsh storms

and grew to be very strong

but the day soon came

when life was taken from it    

so that Another would die   



One Lonely Tree  07/31/14


Details | Verse | |

The Red Death

The days grow shorter. With each moon-rise there
are newly deceased leaves resting on the cold,
frost-covered soil.

Their lace-like edges adorned with death's crystal kiss.
Forever red, never green again. Their death paints the forests
with vibrant colors, and no one stops to mourn the loss of life.

The trees let go of their dead outer furs, showing bare, ugly bones.
Their skeletons stand starkly against a pale winter's sky, and
only then does it seem fitting, because the bones now mourn 
the red ones, forever gone.

But after a few bitter-cold months, 
small cocoons start to form along the tree's barren limbs,
promising life during the new season.
They forget their lost red coat and sing for the green yet to come.
For they will look alive again. Forgetting the red death.
Seen as skeletons no more.


Details | I do not know? | |

Would It Make You Change

Can you imagine if
The later part of your life you didn't get along
With family members ?
Time passes and you grow old
You transpire and become a big tree truck
Intertwined with several other tree trucks 
Then you come to realize the family members
That you didn't get along with is a part 
Of the intertwined branches. 
If you had a chance would you change your mind in this life
To try and figure out a way to get along 
With those family members?


Details | Rhyme | |

Oak Leaves

The withered leaves of summer days
Cling to the oak tenaciously;
Their dry and brittle sighs are heard
When winter winds sift through the trees.
They will not die a gracious death
And flutter to the fields while gold;
When other leaves deep carpets make
Impassioned oaks increase their hold.
They cling till Death's determined winds
In violent spasm fling them down;
But, even as they touch the ground,
New buds of green replace the brown.

How I admire their courage, staunch,
Their joy of living in Death's face,
For even winter's blasting wind
A challenge meets in their embrace.
Although their death is imminent,
Their grasp near wrested from the tree,
They strain to sip life's nectar all,
Before they meet eternity.
I would be like them to the end;
While drinking in my final breaths,
I'd sing of life's ecstatic joy
And pause with you when facing death.


Details | Free verse | |

The Trophy Tree

The Trophy Tree

Pinnacle of the pristine forest
Toxic from its blood-stained soil
The trophy tree sits

Barren of foliage
Dark decrepit limbs easily broken by subtle breezes
Amidst wisps of gray fog
The trophy tree waits

Surrounded by a dark ominous wind
Its veins filled with crimson sap from its suffering sorrowful souls
Engorged and contorted with anguish
Unapproachable
The trophy tree breathes

Constantly feasting –one victim at a time
Draining energies from Sleepy Hollow’s forest
Starving to fill its empty bowels
The trophy tree consumes

Silent screams echoing within its lair
Innocent peasants' heads stored as trophies
Roots reaching towards hell--

Trophy Case of the Headless Horseman




Collaborated with Gwendolen Rix, and Rachel Bernotaitis


Details | I do not know? | |

CLOCK

In the vast beauty and diversity
                 of the reaches of the cosmos
           impresses upon us all
the shear minute dust we are
                 in any comparison
The simplicity of laws
            that govern it's most basic
     and complex movements
Birth , Life , Death
                 some would distain this as "circular"
as the patterns in creation are
for all things existing within its confines
the birth , life , death of stars   , galaxies
entropy and the recirculation of those elements
into new structures encased
                 in the womb for new material
apply equally to the diversity of structures
                 cycling on the little blue marble
seed  sprout   bush    tree     seed 
seed  sprout   plant    flower     seed
seed   baby    child     adult       seed
same  down    onthe   cellular    level
same  down    tothe    atomic     level 
                 and its clock
in a state of perfectly circular self propagation
For those who foolishly accuse us of being
 
                   CIRCULAR
 
Let me explain              a simple something
     how we measure time in the cosmos
 
is based on a circular orbital movement of planets
                      and stars
and as for thinking
are questions seeking answers which just
                     lead to more questions
 
          and that's the beauty of it
 
       simplicity defines even the most
        complex systems that function
 
right down to the circuit boards for computers
        and technology
 
Mama      seals     it      with     Kiss
        Keep it simple stupid
 
anyone who doesn't know
a clock embedded in the universe
has not recognized his own 

Ecc 8:17
9:5-10
 
COPYRIGHT © 2013 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC


Details | Ode | |

The Unknown Poet n' the Lover with an Immortal Heart (Part 1)

On a windswept hill crest by the sea there is a lonely ancient sentient tree that seems so 
figuratively familiar to me, I wonder why this can be n’ who my heart longs for when
I’m here n’ why love gives no guarantee…
Though I visit here frequently, today I was summoned, beckoned by the branches of this 
solitary tree swaying in the breeze, to this charming yet purgatorial space...

I knelt down upon this strange magical place n' was carried away as my fingers traced an 
owl’s feather to my face n’ wondered why I loved n’ despised this fateful place…
My body shivered, internally tingling n’ with grace, some kind of enlightened knowing I could 
not erase n' like the sentient tree that cradles you within, I sensed your ethereal embrace…

Silence ends where you begin, I heard the likes of Aeolian sing “Oh my Immortal”  n’ your 
poetic voice disturbed the chaos in the winds of my mind n’ there within returned the 
memory of your handsome androgynous face…
I said… “Come let my hands play upon your skin” n with my thoughts gathering to replay a 
scene across time of broken hearts n’ love’s abandoning reflected in the fire of your eyes n’ 
a touch of a feather upon my face…

I’ll never know your name or how many tears were cried in the oceanic depths of your 
pleasure n’ pain, though the salt I can taste in the tempest of this darkening day as the wind 
heralds your scent n’ presence unto me…
I’ll never know all who walked hand in hand here before me or where each discarded shell 
has been as the seasons flew away, yet I now know why a thousand Halloweens were  your 
destiny n’ you summoned me to transcend my mortality n’ the meaning of silent words at 
play this day…

Our ancient bodies lay together here beyond mortal touch, though in my present existence I 
no longer recall our names, they are lost in my many lifetimes yet kept in the Goddess’s 
providence…
Though no longer you feel my touch or pleasure n’ pain I'll plant a flower as a blessing on 
top of our grave, above the waves, where your soul is a slave to this sentient tree cradling 
your ashes n’ bones returned to dust…


Details | I do not know? | |

oh ,weak tree

"Oh, weak man,
How did you rise up so high?"
"Hate," he replied, with death in his eyes.
With the rope in his hands,
he wrung it around a tree that rose high in the sky
and once it was tied,
he gently placed the sweet string around his throat
and pulled it tight
he then thought about the future and what it would bring
but thought the world could move forward 
if he was no longer living
so he jumped,
and as he fell the tall tree began to speak
"Simply put," the old tree exclaimed,
"It took me too long to grow this tall,
and i've encountered many ropes,
but i never expected to see one wrung around a man's throat.
and as i speak i find it hard to believe what I'm witnessing through my leaves.
but i tell you this young man,
now that you have seen your downfall and have wished death upon yourself
know that your wish has been granted and that you will rot in hell."
as the tree finished the mans arms hung without movement,
the rope swung uneasily back and forth
and the tree's branches hung with despair.


Details | Free verse | |

SILVER STAR

SILVER STAR

I have long since lost Hope,
because my paths are so endlessly long and aimless,
as if sculpted out of my restless spirit
in the long nights of reverie.
You know, Lord... I used to have my Hope.
It was so nice to stand next to the Christmas tree
with my mother,
and look at its proud top,
where our silver star shone,
my favorite Hope. 
To me, a child who never decorated his own tree,
it was the biggest Christmas tree in the world,
and the brightest star beyond the heavenly dome.
Each night before Christmas we would return to the same place
with the same desire and faith,
until our terrible companions, the long, cold nights
have invoked death
and stolen my mother.
I am motionlessly standing and staring into this dark, cold night,
like an avenger yearning for revenge,
and a thin woman in rags is passing me by,
whispering warm words into a child's frozen ear.
The child is looking up with the same gaze
like I did when my mother used to show me the silver star,
whispering into my frozen ear
that someday I shall touch that silver star too,
silvering all the orphanages of this dark world.
Her warm words are still crossing my mind:
„Son, always stand on your toes and look up...
and you shall touch your star!“
My eyes have long since stopped sparkling
and they don't look up.
They used to be the big, bright eyes of a child,
that shone in the dark,
like two young embers that were just set afire,
but now... oh, now my eyes are but burnt out embers
in the squeezing fist of the cold world.

You know, Lord, how much I wanted to stand on my toes
and look up,
but life always threw me back to my knees.
I admit that I haven't been standing on my toes for a long time,
but I am not kneeling, either,
I am only looking down
into the dark reflections of people's characters,
and my Hope is once again so far away,
as if it's afraid of my faithful squire,
which is standing at the bottom of the silky net,
not like a flym
but like a master of many a fly big and small,
because Death has that justified purpose
to come for its flies regardless of their size.
I am not looking at death like a fugitive,
but a penitent man,
who wants just another chance.
How strange it is, Lord,
that even a man abandoned by Hope wants his chance.
Yes, Lord, I admit
that I would like to stand on my toes once more,
below the biggest Christmas tree in the world,
and touch our silver star.
  
 ©Walter William Safar

 






Details | Free verse | |

The Cold Red bud

Sent to his on tree in truth and fabled firewood topped
so if you sow with the liar you will lose your crop
Thoughts of the tree of the forest pensively accursed
a story likened to that is written in true verse
Red bud with pinkish betraying lips
in those same hours like blood drips
for those in the field of iniquity He loved to the end
The purer meets the lips of an unfaithful friend
a hardy stake to fall upon with this kiss not counting the cost
while stealing a kiss this fruitless one to perdition lost
The money will not save within his bag the silver cold
rolling coins bought for a price foretold
so full of darkness to say it was I
It is finished the Fruitful Tree cried
Poisoned by greed and the enemy
growing in the field of blood it is called the Judas tree
- by john beam -The Eastern Redbud known to Cherokees as Da-yi-go-gi or Liar. It is called this because it is the first tree to bloom in the spring often before the last heavy frost. If the farmer planted based on the Liar, the tender crops would be lost." David Cornsilk, Cherokee historian and activist


Details | ABC | |

Some call this Life

Don't search for apples anymore.
The apple tree has died.
It gave all the apples that it had.
Now it is nothing more than a piece of wood.
Nobody has interest for an apple tree without apples.
Nobody gives it some water to survive.
Not even the dry mother earth.
Nobody.
This is the fate for every apple tree that has nothing to give.
This is the fate of everything alive being on the earth.
This is the law of nature.
Some call this life.

Copyright Constantinos Grigoriadis © All rights reserved


Details | Ballad | |

Why the dogwood tree grows

Why the dogwood tree grows.

In the middle of a vacant filed stands a grand dogwood tree where the  crows gather daily. People flock far and wide just to gaze at its majestic stature and overwhelming beauty wondering silently amongst themselves, “How this tree came to be.”

Shrouded in secrecy lays the scattered bones of a dead man. 

His hands rest against his thighs, his head turned upright as his soil filled eyes gaze upward awaiting the warm glow of the sun that sadly never comes.

The man laid to rest beneath the black dirt over time had long been forgotten, he no longer had a name, no home, or even a family of his own. Just the loving roots he had been encased in long ago.

But how this event came to be only three could say.
The women, the murder, and the forever silent dogwood tree.

The restless bones belonged to a man, a young man who had fallen in love and courted another mans betrothed. The women cared for the simple gardening man and the many trees his nimble fingers tended but her fiance was a jealous chap with rage to match.
And upon one final night after witnessing their true loves kiss the grief stricken cohort stuck the man down with his rusted pick axe and banished the gardener to his hand dug grave, placing his lifeless corpse in a vacant filed in which no one came. But what the enraged man didn’t foresee was the seed of a dogwood tree.
It fell from the deceased pocket and grew from the gardeners heart.

Year after year the tree budded magnificent flowers each possessing a hint of red staining their petals.

People marveled in its splendor gazing at the unique tree, gasping in awe and glee, but for one women its beauty agonized her for its existence was a constant reminder that no justice, nor revenge could ever be won for her simple gardening man.

And as the roots steamed onward feeling the caressing flow of a spring wind on its crimson petals the mans chest flooded with air and his dry, frail skeleton once more exuded life; 

And  as she eyed the swaying branches his memory suddenly came to life.
He was the air the tree inhaled, the nutrients it desperately needed to grow, and the reason it thrived.

Even in death he had the gardeners touch.

Her wrinkled face light up with love and for the first time in fifty years she smiled in happiness thinking to herself.

“That is why the dog wood tree grows, its out of love for my dead mans bones.”




Details | Rhyme | |

Just ashes

at the edge of the century, in the mountains
forgotten by the people and time,
at the shadow of an old tree are standing
the spirits of the broken lives .

and beneath the bloody sunset,
his branches are floating in the wind,
down are staying the shadows of life 
and the ancient tomb stones.

fallen from the world now they rest
there, lonely in their ashes,
only bodies that by day are talking to worms
and who by night gather the silence.

from their loneliness they shout to be heard
from the deep ,cold hole in the ground,
as the marble their souls are trapped by the years
and however ,they're still alive.

and the tree with his shadow, day after day,
is mourning in silence their words...
and life who's gone for such a long time 
is listening how the wind sings.


Details | Free verse | |

Dead Winter

They wanna say that I feel dead inside;
I’m no more dead than that tree in the yard.
The one with no color, no sense of direction
The one left abandoned, the one by the road.
The one that kept growing, though nobody liked it –
The one that kept living, through all of the torture.
As weird as it sounds, I kind of admire it, that tree.
Every year, it falls down.
Nature kicks it, beats it, leaves it left for dead.
Every year its covered by the ashes of the past year,
And like the phoenix, rises every year for another beating.

I know I said I was like the tree, but I’m not.
That tree is strong, noble even.
Standing tall in the realm of undead, it’s a symbol,
A beacon that there is something beyond the darkness,
Beyond the barren, beyond the white…


Details | Free verse | |

Ethiopian Sun

            Ethiopian Sun

My first born son, Bon, died today in my arms
Thin arms, swollen stomach, flies touching
The cold glazed eyes of his tiny body
My tears can’t save him
Quench what was thirst
Or wash away the sins of living
He will never know to read or write
He did not know the name of his own land
And killer Ethiopian sun
Which he just died under
Or his sister, sweet Biny
Who lost her life at the hands
Of the bandit war lords Marxist Berg
I laid her ravaged body down under sun and dying
Endangered Hagenia Abyssinica tree  
With no hope in Ethiopia  
Soon, all would be gone

9/23/14 Free Verse Poem- Poetry Contest


Details | Free verse | |

Shadow World

          Shadow World 

Wondering off the world are shadows
Trees tried to stay behind
To settle with the sun of red, to make it right and just
Beyond its light
Something wrong had happened to its core
The star focused on objects in reflection
Had nothing left to give to life but death
Objected to moving things in general
With indifference there
Exploded with anticipation of the night
Could not contain dark places looking for escape
Colors could hardly stick to trees
Stationary in their place as was their nature
Seemingly anesthetized to numbness by the sudden blast
Anathematized or cursed  
Trees were the last to stand
They held themselves in dirt
And could not reason with the star
Executed on the spot along with every form of life
For failure to do their job
No one or thing had a say in this grave matter 
All things destroyed in one quick flash of light
To become a splinter in the eye of sun as it went nova 
And when the planet settled into total darkness
To become an empty orb
When the sun lost power
To become the dark
Sunk in on itself and vanished
No one said a prayer
For no one was there to care
Or left alive in Shadow world
A burnt out cinder


Details | Haiku | |

Lotus Tree Exposed - Haiku

     Lotus Tree Exposed – Haiku

Lotus falls to earth  
To addictions harvesting
Asphyxiated   


Details | Sonnet | |

Run From the Sun

“Run run run run
He’s coming-it’s the sun!”
He burns down our houses
And sets fire to our trousers

Run run run smack
I hit a tree and everything’s black
My group went on without me
I’m beginning to see

It wasn’t a tree I hit
It was a deer and now he’s lit
I’m surrounded by plants
But most of them are covered in ants 

I splash water over the deer 
(I had trouble putting out his rear)
I sit down and begin to eat
Surprisingly it was a treat

I realize it is getting late
And set off to tell my tribe what I ate
I managed to find my group
And joined them as they sat for soup

We fell asleep after the last flare
At night we were attacked by a bear
Everything suddenly stilled
As my group watched me get killed


Details | Free verse | |

I See Myself

I saw myself hanging
yesterday, from a tree branch.
	A cold face
	and heavy arms and legs;
	a paleness to my skin,
which did not arise from the cold winter evening.
The tree was asleep,
ready to crack, the ice weighing it down.
I saw myself hanging yesterday,
from a tree by a noose.
And today, I see myself
	laying on the bathroom floor,
	spilling the blood from my
wrist, waiting for the pain to cease my life.


Details | Couplet | |

To Kevin

The same tree blossoms that stands bare.
The same silhouette against sunrise and sunset.
The same tree stands in May that stands in December,
Once delicate with buds, and then with frost, bitter.
Spring to autumn, then to winter.
Fruit will ripen, bark will splinter.
Wisdom of nature, not of men,
We learn, we lose, not comprehend.


Details | Free verse | |

Remembering

She lay on the sofa,
Two arthritis pain pills nearby, 
Holding a thin romance book
With a thin plot involving
An empty heroine, an empty hero,
Explicitly but tastefully making love.

I’ve heard, she said, closing the book,
Marking her place with a folded handkerchief,
That books with graphic sex  
Can be awfully boring.
What are those tall trees across the street?

Georgia pines, we told her.   
She asked:  Is the tallest one the father,  
And the other two son and daughter?   
We laughed.  All siblings, we replied.
She looked doubtful.  Then she said:  
I’m convinced trees talk, I wish I knew what about.
Since I'm eighty now, I suppose 
I'll never understand tree language.
I also think each tree has a soul,
The way people do -- don’t you?

What’s the glossy dark green tree on the left?  
A magnolia, we said, almost an evergreen.
Remember magnolias from Maryland?
Smaller ones -- we called them sweet bays.

Yes, she said, and smiled.  Beautiful small magnolias
With creamy blossoms, up on the hill.   

There’s a weeping willow, she went on,
A happy bouncy willow.
Look how gracefully it bends in the breeze!  

March had a cruel surprise:    
Four inches of icy snow, bitter winds..
The willow perished.  
Later a bush appeared in its place,
But we kept on picturing the willow.    
Next they replaced the grove of pines 
With a tire shop.
A year later, the magnolia was felled, 
And the house behind it, too.
Six condos were quickly built, 
And marketed for a million dollars each.

Still, we'd see when looking across the street, 
Superimposed on the replacements, 
The willow, the magnolia, the pines.
Lovely tree ghosts:  They had greeted us kindly.

By then our mother wasn't on the sofa or reading.
She was bedridden, and couldn’t focus on books.
Despite her dying heart, we all three 
Changed our residence -- an enforced move.

We hope the tree ghosts are still intact and active,
We'll always think of them with affection,
But my sister and I don't plan to visit that block again.
 
Our mother is not alive any more, either,
But we doubt she’s a ghost, like the trees.
We consider that she is
Bound up forever in the bonds of eternal life.
All the same, at times we’ll be overcome
By a wave of goodness and warmth,
Amazing beauty and strength,
Incredible devotion.
Then, puzzled, we'll discuss what happened,  
And the only sane conclusion we can reach
Is that Mama had paid us a fleeting loving visit.


Details | I do not know? | |

The Teacher Tree

all of them sustain,
some wilted,
all vital,
each a part of the teacher tree.

speaking different parables,
humming different songs,
each falling its own way in the end.

tell me, tell me teacher tree,
why they have to die?
some too soon to truly live,
struggling and suffering.

the sun will scorch,
the winds will dry,
each one of your sacred leaves.

the teacher tree won't answer,
and all the leaves will try
to tell you why they matter.

every living one does matter,
and was made so all could exist.

the teacher tree stays silent,
but answers every one,
and every fallen leaf
is one with him,
forever and forever.


Details | I do not know? | |

My Mercurial Soul

Silver washes through the sea
Veins trace life deep into me
White transpires, falling free
From this Tree of Mercury

Thus have I seen love's bright sheen
Shining forth the last sunbeams
One white light 'midst all the sea
This crying Tree of Mercury

Orbs of sunlight drip to dirt
Where veins of life spread through the earth
Searching, blindly, for the rain
That seeps up to drip down again

These silver veins stretch through the sea
In search of sunlight as it fades
And all across the crimson waves
Is falling rain, sorrow to sea
Tears of the Tree
Of Mercury

A sunset slips so slowly to
A garnet rain with silver strewn
These crimson tears of love for you
Fall as the sunset fades.
The moon
Now rises, shines so pale upon
A night that never will know dawn

So still, alone, I'll always be
This crying Tree of Mercury


Details | Verse | |

Memories of you

We met in October and walked hand in hand
Kicking leaves  down country roads with canapes of gold
Picked our pumpkins from fields of yellow
Made love amongst the creaking stalks of dying corn
And rode a tractor together, laughing
Summers spent at Dover, licking ice cream as we walked on a pier, kissing 
behind the lighthouse, lying on beaches under a tree which rustled in the 
summer wind, we lay in the sand and made angels
And now after so many Octobers together, you again lie 
under a tree in eternal sleep, and as I sit by your grave
I think, how ironic, as I brush away the Autumn leaves 
that dare to cover your grave, and I see them swirl  upward in the wind forever, 
away and gone - like you, never to return...


Details | I do not know? | |

Insecurity of the Devil

He sits on his throne made of cobble and bone

Pleading the 5th as his mind sets a tone

The sound is haunting as he shouts with pure moan

In the mirror he watches as he splits from his clone



Planting a seed that was plucked from his heart 

A tree grows in place as it is now looking part

For He does not know why resemblence is true

As his claws emit light as it is passing through



From this tree lays an evil fruit

Pluck from thy soul he intends to remove

First bite like a kiss as if he must prove

That he is better than the spawn thats improved



Second bite knawed from his razor teeth

Blood pouring out from the center of the seed

As blood touches ground a figure will heed

Look as Satan sees himself without all the need



The clutches of hell now forming a fist

As fire emits from Satans split wrist

The end will be near for the spawn of better twist

For Satan insecurity will end all in bliss 


Details | Rhyme | |

Will Remain

I come from roots proud and strong 
Some still living some are gone
But never will their just be 
An empty space on that tree
Roots made strong and proud 
Some thought of by a cloud
Always remembering them once here
Never forgotten always near
Written in ink a loved ones name
The family tree will remain
In the open for all to see
All the names that make are tree
Time will pass and others their will be 
Adding there names to the family tree
When my time has passed and i am gone
The family tree will still go on


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