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Introspection Tree Poems | Introspection Poems About Tree

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

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Details | Free verse | |

Lessons Learned from Trees

"A woodland path in the dappled sun, hushed and quiet "

                                                             ~A Rambling Poet~



A canopy of trees
filters the sun for me,
and I am grateful...
For I do not feel like 
having the rays glare
in my eyes today,
in a brooding mood I am.

The earth is damp,
drunken with dew,
seemingly commiserating
with me

I lay myself down,
jagged rocks beneath me
--cutting, rough--
and I welcome it
For it grounds me,
a reminder
that not everything 
is sunlight and blooms

I sink in my darkness
and close my eyes
to dwell in it and drown,
just sighing

For an eternity,
I am mired with
muck and moss in my mind,
thoughts eroding
to nothingness

...until I open my eyes
to Wonderment

The trees above me 
stand tall and proud
in their radial glory,
the sun just
breaking through,
shimmering, dappling
my cold being

Leaves gilt with light
blink back in awe
and I am floored,
blanketed by warmth
of hushed spirits 
surrounding me

These trees 
tell their tales
of growth and survival,
of yearning for 
that light,
of their struggle
to catch a glimpse
of heaven...
of capturing 
its light,
using it,
feeding off from it,
in order to 
give back to others

some of them stumble
yet most of them
succeed

I am humbled.
I am awed.

Yes, the canopy
gave me shade,
temporary darkness
from the light,
I look up again
and realize
that the tiniest
pinholes of hope exist,
reaching deep within...

little sparks
that set off
a chain reaction
of life




--June 11-12 (2011)


Details | Ballade | |

Why aren't we happy

Why aren’t we happy?

What is it in the most of us?
We are not how we should be
We should be like a singing bird
Who boldly, in the trees
Sings his song when fear is done
His life just flows along
He only knows the dance of life
So he just sings his song.


And yet we humans live our lives
Enfolded in our fears
Glorifying in the sad
And making this quite clear
As we always speak of doom and gloom
And watch it on TV
And always live our lives in fear
Is this the way it should be?


If only each would take a look
And see just what we be
We never see the flowers grow
Or let our hearts be free
Maybe it’s time to see the truth
Of what this life could be
If we look at life without the fear
And live with mystery.

6 August 2013 @ 1908hrs.


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 | Rhyme | |

Leaving Me

The shine came off of her back that day
under the magnolia tree
She sprawled her arms like tree sized roots
and swayed with the swaying breeze
It was always her choice of blossoms
that seemed to bruise to the delicate touch
It was always on the day she was about to die
that she wanted to live so much
She sank from luxurious apple green
into chameleon red
as I drew her a picture of spring time
and the resurrection of the dead
The snow fell sweet on the tree that year
in a vision of rains to come
as I sparked a match and drew her breath
in the winter's fallen sun.


Details | Lyric | |

On A Runaway Train

Written January 8, 2013


The morning blues in a lily on the pond
Wake on the wrong side of the road
Penniless pockets play the vagabond game
Ride the tiger recently tamed

On a long road to nowhere, horizon's stain
All's my name sitting next to me
Lie down with graceful angels deep in the snow
Or on wet grass recently mowed

I've grown accustomed to the scent of your mane
Spelled chug-chuga-chug is my name
Oh why do flowers never bloom in the snow?
They never have a chance to grow

No, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore
The oaks and pines getting clearer
Much to a land unafraid to spread its wings
Listen to Woody Guthrie sing

Bacon sizzles in the rain and sunshine reigns
We've reached the line of no return
Of the big rock candy mountain we will sing
For the next week my phone won't ring


Details | Blank verse | |

Hammer In Hand

You always laughed at me In that funny way of yours
Standing at the door ~ looking out to see 
Wondering where you are, and will you follow me 
With hammer in hand ~ Into nature decked with 
silver and gold 

Do you possess a loving heart  with stories untold 
By now they know what  you are made of 
Reflections that come from your eyes they see 
Though they walk with you in a style of their own
Shaped into the figure of a man with beauty of a woman 

A tree in the forest is cut down shaped into the form of a goddess 
A goddess that will take us through time and back again 
Though time is an elusive thing  here as we all know 
Hammer in hand into nature decked with silver and gold 

Time means nothing when the heart is near  I am told   
Does a tree feel the pains of a cut as we do , I ask you 
I have struggled all my days with thoughts like these 
To figure out what the true meaning really is to me 
If you know can you tell me too as we walk together
With hammer in hand into nature decked with silver and gold 


Details | Narrative | |

The Fog Rolls in

The fog rolls in surrounding me,
My hand before me, I barely see.
A heaviness as moisture clings to the air,
Ghost like shadows from trees that are bare.

I walk forward I don’t want to look back,
I grab a new card from off of the stack.
I think of it like turning over a new leaf,
I take a deep breath and hope for relief.

I turn the corner there are lights shining bright.
Blue lights resonate and glow in the night.
A Christmas tree lit, entirely in blue,
Like a beacon in the fog it shines right through.


The Christmas tree lights shine much like my hope,
I try to break free with some slack in the rope.
They bring a smile and fill me with content,
As the fog thickens the lights don’t relent.

They seem to glow within the fog,
I lose my bearing as I trip on a log.
I feel like a ghost upon a canvas of white, 
It all disappears within the confines of night.

I hear a bell from a church on the hill,
Its haunting sound from what was still.
It seems to call to me to just forge on.
All of a sudden the ringing is gone.

I stand in darkness just me and the fog,
Something awakens, memories it jogs.
I think of my journey and all I’ve been through,
What has been done and what’s left to do.

It hasn’t been easy though it’s not bad.
I have fond memories of great times I’ve had.
Still something’s missing as I look for the door,
I know it can’t be like it was once before.

The winds picks up, adds a chill to the air.
It awakens my senses so I really don’t care.
I stand at the threshold to the future and past.
I will simply step outside, the shadows it casts.


Details | Ballade | |

Like the oak tree

Like the oak tree

Have you ever thought about?
An Oak so big and strong
With all his blessed majesty
[As nature sings her song]
His branches reach unto the sky
As he strives to touch the sun
Take a look at his great growth
Now he’s a giant one.

And yet he cannot reach the sky
Unless his roots dig far
He’ll never reach too high at all
That’s just the way things are
Take a look at a bonsai tree
Then you’ll see what I mean
Compare it with the mighty oak
And see what might have been.

It’s the same with humans too
If they strive to reach within
They’re growth will reach up very high
And a song it will begin
But if they only touch the surface
[Most humans be like this]
They’ll stay small, like the Bonzai tree
That’s just the way it is.

8 June 2014 @ 1634hrs.


Details | Lyric | |

Like a bird

Like a bird

Like a bird up in a treetop
Singing, tenderly
This little bird I know him well
This creature it be me
I sit here with my pen in hand
And sing so crazily
With symbols shining out like gold
I give my song to thee

These words, they be my  message
I sing them to the sky
One day his body will be gone
But the words will never die
They well up from my very soul
Without no help from me
I am that bird up in a tree
With his lone symphony.

And lord, I like to share it
I will whisper from the stars
And tell the world I am this bird
Send vibes out wide and far
That sing about the journey
The only one I know
As I’m sending out my story
In words that make it glow.

5 August 2013 @ 1755hrs.







Details | Personification | |

Birth of a Poet

The animals know better than us. The rain has never poured so loudly in a key so soft.
To the front, the sailing of city buses and mini vans cruising across in this weather makes the water underneath their tires sound like the street is crying out for 5 more minutes of sleep. Up above, the trees are protecting a nest of baby blue jays before they get washed away by the silence of their mother not being there. But with sky blue young spirits, and small empty stomachs, they keep hope alive in the fact that even children know storms and struggles don’t last forever.
Below the trees, nature has found a name to call it’s own. From the hole dug by the little boy next door, a family of three foxes have named human nature sanctuary, and burrowed their problems into the sediment to rest for a while.
To the side of the hole, a flock of ducks are swimming in the water with eyes open wide enough to where you can see their loyalty to love one another rushes wild.
To the right of the pond, caged up in a man made blanket, and lost in his own mind, is the boy. From what he remembers, last night was like a train accident; A head on collision of two people he could’ve sworn he saw holding hands just the other day. He hears the sound of plates shattering in C-minor, and the chorus of words that his parents screamed in F-sharp, so he imprisoned himself in his own bed sheets, accompanied by the courageous corduroy bear who he swears keeps hearing whisper “everything will be okay.”
It’s raining outside, and the crescendos of screams have been silenced by it’s peaceful security.
The boy, sleeps soundly now. The rain has protected his ears, and guarded his heart from being washed away by all of his nightmares.
He doesn’t care whether he wakes up. The baby blue jay, the resourceful fox and the brave little duck are all he wants to keep dreaming about.
Maybe he’ll run away into the rain? Or maybe into the arms if his mother?, whom he prays he can still recognize. To the left of his bed, he picked up the blank page of his coloring book and a crayon, and became a life long poet in that moment that morning. Taking a deep breath in, and giving a soft breath out, his first sentence was
“The animals know better than us.”


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 | Pantoum | |

FOLIAGE IN WITHERED HARMONY

‘  ‘  ‘        ‘’’’’’’’’’’             ‘        ‘



Those tender wrinkling leaves pour dizzily down 
auburn dressed palms of shaven-  tree solemnity, 
like drowsy tunes of autumn’s harp sound,
saintly foliage fluting, swooping in withered harmony. 

Auburn dressed palms of shaven- tree solemnity
tangerine floats of stems fading by lamp light, 
saintly foliage fluting, swooping in withered harmony 
their torn skins crackle, mumble and fall from flight. 

Tangerine floats of stems fading by lamp light, 
brushing a wandering  sky soaking in rainfall’s keep
their torn skins crackle, mumble and fall from flight 
and whispers of stooped dance soothe the moon to sleep. 

Brushing a wandering sky soaking in rainfall’s keep
spreading leaves’ goodbye glory for a final  display, 
and wafts of stooped dance soothe the moon to sleep
as  full season of fall sheds life’s leaves to pray. 

Spreading leaves’ goodbye glory for a final display, 
like drowsy tunes of autumn’s harp sound, 
as  full season of fall seems to shed life’s leaves to pray 
those  tender wrinkling leaves  pour dizzily down. ~


~

………..     ………





Pantoum poetry
© rights reserved



By: nette onclaud



Details | Ballade | |

Questions for everyone

Questions for everyone

Has anybody ever sat? 
In a garden filled with flowers
Have you felt the magic there?
Have you felt the power?
Have you sat there with the body still?
And the mind too, just the same?
Have you ever lost yourself?
As the mind stopped playing games

Have you seen those magic colours?
And really seen them too!
Have you felt the touch of the morning breeze?
Have you seen the way she do?
Touch those branches with her glory
Make them dance in the morning sun
As the sparkles nearly blow your mind
And you’re the holy one?

Have you ever heard the dove’s warm Coo
And that deep, deep ravens croak?
Have you seen the mulberry tree?
As she dons her summers coat?
And radiance and reverence
Are all that one can know
Have you ever sat there in the garden?
And watched the morning flow.


Details | Sonnet | |

Broken Wind Chimes

Dangling from the tree I can see,
Broken wind chimes that still sing.
They just hang on by a split string.
Sending a harmony of tunes to thee.
 
Their tones and vibrations are a bit broken for me.
I listen and I ponder for what tunes they can bring.
From the tree they will sway when they can swing.
Bits and pieces are released through the air and flee.
 
Caught in the wind is it’s vibrations.
Carrying signals of great magnitude.
Funneling clouds into new creations.
Bringing air into a brand new mood.
 
Broken wind chimes can still sing a song,
But their messages are scattered all along.
 
© Copyright: Ann Rich 2007


Details | I do not know? | |

My Wishes are Simple





My Wishes are Simple


My wishes are simple,
my desires few,

to gaze upon an ocean,
and marvel at a solitary drop of dew.



My wishes are simple,
my dreams not too grand,

to feel the waves teasing my tired feet,
with no footprints left in the cool, wet sand.



My wishes are simple,
my thoughts serenely gentle, calm,

my heart resting beneath a swaying palm,

healing my being, caressed by nature's soothing balm.





Details | Ballad | |

Silent times

Silent times

Sometimes, I really do not care
About anything at all
My mind goes kind of quiet then
My mode is kind of cool
And all I really want to do
Is sit here looking in
Forgetting all the world outside
Forgetting all the din

There’s a time to send ones energy
And circle it around
But then there comes a sacred time
When the harmony is found
Waiting there within the dark
To hold one cozily
A time to be in her soft clutch
And bask there happily.

Then when the muse has been recharged
It’s time to wander back
And let the words come pouring out
Cause just along the track
The wind, the flowers and dancing trees
Have replaced the mystery
So now the words they may flow free
With much more energy.


Details | I do not know? | |

The Petty Posh-WahZee - Liberation and Ostentation



The Petty Posh-Wahzee - Liberation & Ostentation


The Not-So Distant Past:

The fallen fighters for freedom, are unable to turn in their graves,
their battered, fragmented bones, mixed with a handful of torn rags,
are all that remain, a mute reminder of their selfless valiant sacrifice.

They endured brutal Apartheid harassment, detentions without trial,
torture in the cells, and mental anguish when loved ones disappeared,
they left their homeland, to continue the struggle against racial bigotry,
while countless others fought the scourge of white-minority rule at home.

Nelson Mandela and many, many others, spent their lives imprisoned,
on islands of stone, and on islands of the cruellest torture, yet they stood,
never bowing, never scraping, they stood, firm for ideals for which they were prepared to die,

and many, many comrades did die, at the hands of the callous oppressor,
and many, many comrades perished in distant lands, torn from their homes,
while the struggle continued, for decades, soaked in blood, in tears, in pain.


The Present:

19 years have passed, since freedom was secured at the highest of prices,
delivering unto us, this present, a gift of emancipation from servitude,

a freedom to walk this land, head held high, no longer second-class citizens,
in the land of our ancestors, whose voices we hear and need to heed today.

I do not care much for fashion, Lewis-Fit-On and Sleeves unSt.-Moron,
yet the ostentation that I witness baffles even my unsophisticated palate,

our ancestors' plaintive whispers are being dismissed, left unheeded, as
we browse the aisles for more and more, always for more and yet more.

Asphyxiated by the excess of the Petty Posh-Wahzee, we find ourselves,
perched precariously on the edge, of a dissolution of all that is humane,

babies go hungry, wives are battered, our elders left in hospitals for hours,
I cringe as I scribble these words, perhaps too sanctimonious and preachy,

yet I know, deep in the marrow of my brittle bones, I know, I know, I know,
this tree of freedom planted by the nameless daughters and sons of Africa,

needs to be shielded, nurtured, protected from our very own baser impulses,
so that the precious tree of freedom, may bear the fruit that may feed us all,

for if not, then we are doomed, to tip over, and into the yawning abyss, we shall fall.








Details | Ballad | |

Those blessed wetland trails

Those blessed wetland trails.

The sun is shining lazily
The sky is azure blue
As green leaves dance with the morning breeze
The birds be singing too
They sing a serenade of bliss
And peace is all around
As all along these wetland trails
Blue lupins can be found.

The perfume heavy in the air
It speaks of wild geraniums
The young ferns looking soft and green
And all those tall wild gums
Give out a rather pungent scent
A smell I've learned to love
As parrots screech in blissfull joy
In those trees there high above.

The lake, she glimmers neath the sun
As the ducks give lazy quacks
My feet scrape on the sand and gravel
As I stroll along this track.
Trees all gnarled and and twisted
Form a tunnel just for me
Oh I could write forever
But for now, I'll leave it be.


Details | Personification | |

THE HOURGLASS

 

Time drones slowly on 
Each day...an eternity 
Snowflakes change to frozen rain 
Leaving icicles on the tree 

I barely notice spring's approach 
Budding branches on the tree 
Or summer's sun-kissed bounty 
From the garden planted for me 

Fall arrives in all its glory 
Nature's artists on a spree 
Painting glorious colors 
For all the world to see 

I do not see this beauty 
The golden leaves upon the tree 
To me it has no relevance 
For you're not here with me 

The sand is flowing slowly 
Through the hourglass of time 
Now the days fly by too quickly 
Soon  the tolling bell will chime 

But I cherish these fading days 
And our promised rendezvous 
When the last grain has flowed 
Then I will be with you

For John Freeman's contest (your best shot) _


 Copyright©2004 Beatrice Boyle

(All Rights Reserved


Details | Imagism | |

Poison and wine

Calamity strikes under the calm of fog, The man breathes in the misty water. His thoughts dissipate with the touch of dusky light, Her auburn hair flares behind the rose of cherry blossoms. Their fingers caress at their tips, A consciousness already bonded eternally. Branches of cherry blossoms rest upon their cold heads, Notions forbidden and a desire remains suppressed. Their lips turned to poison, It crept and tangled deep into their minds. From this moment forward they were consumed, Forever doomed to think the same. * The tree stands still - its eyes perturbed, The green shrubs, the amber buds, Surroundings bustling and lively, It stands placid, as almost dead. True nature it has not revealed, The mute damned to sit still, Words rush and glimmer in poetic verse, No sound crosses its rough lips. Century withered and silently crossed, The tree stands still yet even now. The aging man, his worn axe glistening in dawn, Slashes down the tree, its roots bare. Now knowledge sleeps in the soil, the soil remains untouched.


Details | I do not know? | |

Hope

Today I saw a tree trunk,
Growing through a fence.
Metal bars pierced, as it grew,
It almost didn’t make sense.

Sap oozed out its flesh,
Where the spike had bored.
Victim of its own success,
As if it had fell upon its sword.

I wondered if the tree was wise,
That growing meant having to agonize.
The tree didn’t seem to mind though,
As it stretched toward the rainbow..


Details | Dodoitsu | |

GRAY-HAIRED WISDOM



‘ ‘ ‘’’’’’ ‘ evening hangs on gray-haired tree stems more frail than autumn’s veins a falling rakes damp secrets moist enough to weep tales glum circles on old trunk peeling all barks like droplets wisdom of tree bears comfort for night hearts’ lament © , , , ,, , * remembrances of teenage times when i spoke to a tree and spilled my guts under its shade Contest:Brian Strand's Any Verse of Yours/ max 12 Lines By: nette onclaud


Details | Free verse | |

the apple tree greed

the apple tree greed 
the apple tree greed 

he has an apple a green apple 
he is the only person in this room 
with a green apple 
suppose suppose NOW 
he has MORE of those at home 
WHY he has a GREEN APPLE tree 
In his backyard no WAIT 
He has a vineyard behind his chapeau 
And he makes green apple wine 
And he sells it to the BOONES FARM people 
And they make BOONES FARM green apple wine 
And the whole city is soon sick 
The children ralf and barf and ralf again 
There is no more end to the men 
Drinking all the green apple wine 
To make this ONE person rich 
He never offered me any of his wine 
Eyes never drink of alcoholic beverage 
Eye have juices and tea and a soda please 
I'm just full of good intentions 
Picking green apples in my mind and eating way too many 
Having a green apple with mye lunch of poetical decay 
WAIT he left and YES he took the green apple core with him 
Not leaving me a bite not wanting me to taste the pleasure 
of his mite. Why eye understand him greedy is his name 
the green apple hoarder has so many apples now his wine cellar is so full and 
his larders aer so rich he does save the stems and seeds to plant again in 
ground so rich and he chews on this green apple while he watches MTV in 
selfish hedonistacal revenge while eye have no green apple stuck between my 
teeth OH bliss oh strang decay my teeth at least aer happier today he took the 
core away he left me all alone im appleless today im happier to say no song is 
being sung of little apples of the green variety been hung oh see the tree how big 
its grown the apples have been lost too long and they fall in misery from 
branches of decay to rot to rot to rot upon the vineyard floor there is no apple wine 
no more the green variety is gone they drink it only read and red is the color of the 
wine in cups so full of color there in plates so heaped of agony with applesauces 
vailiantly piled higher then the sky. 


Details | Free verse | |

One Tree Hill

He Created the Tree
He molded and built
A small lonely hill,
That He knew would be
Called Calvary.

Then He made the seed,
That would grow to be thorns
That would make
His Son bleed.

Tell me
How can you be so numb
When you've been so well fed
Bless me, bless me is
All we ever hear

One Tree Hill
When will the seed
Grow into a tree in you


Details | Free verse | |

To Be a Tree

Were I to decide today, I might choose the simplest way….
Yet, I cannot but think that I’d regret losing the experiences I would get.
Water, bends and flows and trickles through every crevice it can find….
Taking the path of least resistance to wind its’ way towards it’s’ goal.
Yes, water is flexible, as we should sometimes be….
But water evaporates.
Now a tree, yes, a tree….
A tree stands tall, reaching out as far as its’ limbs allow, so it can caress the heavens. 
A tree forces its’ roots deep, often ripping through concrete to remain firmly planted….
A tree is stable, strong, almost eternal…
It only fades when it must make room for another or when felled by an axe.
Were I to decide today, I might choose the water’s way….
But a tree’s life, I bet, would make me that much happier yet. 


Details | Narrative | |

The once mighty tree

There once was a tree that was tall and beautiful. It was the talk of the forest. Its 
branches were sturdy, its leaves full, its trunk straight. Kids came from all around to climb 
its height and swing from its branches. On hot days it gave them shade from the 
scorching sun, and when it rained it bore the heaviest drops without thought. One day a 
kid broke off a branch and used it to scratch his back. The tree trembled a little. The next 
day another kid sawed off four strong limbs. He needed to make a chair. The tree shook. 
The third day another kid came and stripped the tree bare, he needed to patch his leaking 
roof. The tree stood naked and alone. No one came around anymore. It had given 
pleasure when they needed it, it had given a seat in its lofty heights, it had been a shelter 
in the storms, and now it had nothing left to give. One day a stranger walked by. He 
looked up at this skeleton of a tree. He didn’t say anything just looked for a long time, 
then took out a piece of paper and sketched something. Then the stranger dug a moat 
around the trunk and filled it with water. He did this day after day. And he would lean 
against the trunk, now scarred and talk about how it was the most beautiful tree in 
forest. And the tree couldn’t help but wonder if he was blind. At first nothing happened. 
But as time passed small buds sprang forth. They flowered and bloomed. Leaves popped 
out the very trunk seemed to straighten itself as if the moon was within its grasp. The 
stranger looked at the tree, there were tears in his eyes as he pulled out a crumpled 
drawing from his pocket and held it up, it looked exactly like the tree looked now. But the 
tree now could see over the tops of the other trees. It saw a house with a small branch 
propping open a door. It saw a wooden chair sitting in the yard, neglected, with one leg 
broken clean off. It saw where the roof had been patched. The tree shivered and shook. 
Leaves cascaded from its newly formed branches raining down on the stranger, who 
looked up bewildered. But all the tree saw were four wooden legs, it saw a patched roof, it 
remembered. The branches started to sag, the bark peeled off like dead skin and in a loud 
sickening crash the tree started to fall. The man turned to brace the tree with all his 
strength. But he was not a whole man for one of his legs was made of wood, it splintered 
and cracked under the strain. And in the house not far away a man looked up in time to 
glimpse a mighty tree crumble to the ground.


Details | Triolet | |

Totally Decayed

The dead tree still stands totally decayed
Could be modern Sodom and Gomorrha
Babylon that Revelation's story told
The dead tree still stands totally decayed
Vision of tree came to me and stayed
What...is that tree ..America that I love
The dead tree still stands totally decayed
Could be modern Sodom and Gomorrha

(Genesis 19, 1Kings 14:24, Isaiah 13:1, 14:22, Revelation 14:8, 16:19 references that could 
apply.)


Details | Villanelle | |

Alone

The Christmas tree stands alone
But still decorated with lights glowing
The family has come and gone

A misty tear drop with a quiet groan
Remembering the days when they were home
The Christmas tree stands alone

Wanting little ones to come and crawl in zone
Of the blanket, packages, and decorations
The family has come and gone

Leftover food, torn wrap, lights that shone
Guiding them to this warm old home
The Christmas tree stands alone

Dirty dishes, soiled placemats, candles blown
Still longing for them at home
The family has come and gone

Time passes, situations change
The love in my heart remains the same
The Christmas tree stands alone
The family has come and gone


Details | Ballade | |

Why would I swap

Why would I swap?

What have they, these men of wealth?
What could they give to me
I have the skies the clouds the rain
I have eternity 
For I would live within this now
Expecting naught at all
Because this world, all by itself
Is so, so beautiful.

I see them with their dull, glum faces
No hint of any smile
And yet I’m supposed to envy them!
With all their wealthy style
No belly laughter comes from them
Cause this be all dried up
As for the joys of life itself
They hardly fill the cup.

While birds are singing in the trees
And the stars shine bright at night
While the flowers smell so wonderful
And the birds give sweet delight!
Oh, I could go on all day long
Why would I want at all?
When my world is oh, so beautiful
And theirs seems oh, so cruel.

2 August 2013 @ 0740hrs.




Details | Free verse | |

GRAINS OF SALT

GRAINS OF SALT Events and things have meanings Meanings to everyone Within us is beyond what is apparent Sometimes vague and in unqualified form But are often called sentiments. Which of these are within The ourselves historicity and yearnings Our thoughts, hopes and vision They clarify the entanglements of thoughts and feelings. Like the blade of grass that merge and glistened down. In these meanings Purest forms, events and things Communicate what are in our being At every temporal door and dam Communicating and knockin’. There’s no denying These are grains of salt Symbolizes our innocence and sometimes ignorance But allow us to go mountain top To see the full view of the city as well as the urban. In plainer terms We while saying That a tree is a mere physical tree standing But it may mean Symbolizing evolution. Or the spiritual unfolding Of man to another person If ever my poem’s Composition glisten in afterglow experiencing Born of being from moments of aloneness.


Details | Free verse | |

I talk to the trees

When spaces are filled with loneliness,
I realise,
I am not alone. 

I talk to the Trees,
They live. 

I listen to the birds,
They sing.

They're alive,
All of them.

People walk by,
They fail to see us. 

I can't make myself move,
I don't want to.

I talk to the Trees,
They feel,
Just like me.


Details | Free verse | |

Reoccurring Dream

I have a reoccurring dream. 
In this dream I am in a wooden shack, dusted and old. 
I breathe suddenly and deeply regaining consciousness 
As though I was in deep thought, yet nothing fills my mind. 
I sit up from a creaky old stool to realize my surroundings. 
I have been to this place before; my footsteps mark the dirty floor, imprinted in the dust. My attention is drawn to a dirty window as the sound of thunder claps around me. 
The sky is vibrant and tormented; 
Swirls of white wrestle the grey clouds as lightening runs across the sky in a beautiful Array colors. Then the smell of fresh rain fills my senses. 
I leave the shack to enter a barren plain, infinite on all horizons 
With the exception of a massive black tree; naked and alone. 
I gaze at the sky once more and a cool breeze flows through, filling me completely. 
The tree now too begins to breathe deeply the cool winds, large and intensely. 
As I walk towards the tree it begins rain. 
The rain drops touch me but I am not wet. 
The dry dirt drinks the rain as quickly as it falls muddying the soil I am walking on, Though my feet are not muddy. My feet imprint the dirt but the mud does not stay, 
Only the wetness of the soil, leaving my feet damp. 
I run towards the tree that now bears a single fruit. 
I reach for it but sobbingly the tree begs me not to eat its only child. 
Disheartened I sit on the ground digging my hands into the dry soil. 
Underneath it is dark fertile earth, but like the mud it does not dirty my hands; 
It gently falls to the ground. In the holes I have dug water begins to pool from the rain, Clear and pure. I gaze into the pools but see no reflection, only the sky above. 
I put my face in these pools and breathe; no water fills my lungs, 
Though water fills my ears. I remove my head from the water and hear no sound; 
My eyes are closed and all is silent. Slowly the water drains and sound returns, 
Thoughts rush my mind and words encourage my tongue; I am awake.


Details | Rhyme | |

Reflected Tears

The child is gone.
The tree is here.
The village windows lit.
Laughter’s left. Joy’s remiss.
Mistletoe brings no kiss.

A sad sight, alone at night,
not one to bring true cheer.

The child is gone.
The Christmas tree is here.
The village’s windows lit.
Beneath the tree the gifts are wrapped
mere tokens, reflect the tears.

The child within, the child without.
The scarcity is clear.
No amount of Christmas lights can quell
the loneliness I feel.


Details | Imagism | |

A Day is Our Life

Life dawns like sunrise
Soft pinks and blues against the black from which it came
Sudden burst of light stretching fingers and toes to a new day.
Receiving blankets of fluffy white
Soft breezes, from Mother Earth, kiss the cheeks of a brand new day.
Spread your wings and announce our new life for we are blessed!
Rustle the name through the leaves, over fields and hills
Blow strong over the oceans
Grow tall from sapling to a mighty oak
Early morning of our life is for bountiful energy and spunk
Splashing and running, carrying treasures to unknown banks afar.
Frolicking from tree to tree chasing the cottonwood seeds

Then approached the noon of our lives
A time to pause; to partake of nourishment from our hearts and minds
Lying in fields of bluebonnets and pink poppies
Nestled in beds of paint brush and purple clover
Revel in your time for it is short!
The hours roll by, to a cool afternoon breeze.
Blow softly for the afternoon is mellow
The lake lays still; no ripples in its tranquility.
Comfort years of life taking an afternoon siesta
Bask in the sun; remember the morning.
Early hours well spent exploring.
Places where you once played buccaneer,
Shrubs that just this morning hid fortresses
Now each picturesque against a landscape of Kentucky Blue 

Too soon Dusk arrives on a charcoal gray charger
Thundering its arrival in the swirl of gluttonous clouds
Chasing you, you seek shelter under the weeping willows
Water rushes in a swirl of memories
Rippling creeks to still waters
The hills no longer beckon
They no longer hold the fascination of an earlier time.
Darkness blankets the earth
Your sit and watch the light show in the sky.
The sun no longer shines through the down pour of tears.
You reminisce
It was a good day, your life!
From the sunrise to your sunset.


Details | Verse | |

Dog

Your short shaggy stumps 
That graze the ground
Of dead leaves and dirt
Your wet, black snout that smothers the soil with smell
Your empty eyes that dart from where your first patch of paw leads, 
And the last follows
Your contained existence
From here to there
And back again
What else have you?
This moment’s piss,
That last moment’s slumber
The thoughtless then and now dance you do
Without consideration for what the final performance may look like
And it looks like nothing
Except for all your futile nows
That you execute with reflexive precision
Your hind leg in the air
Your hollow pug face stare
Your undiscerning bladder flows 
On some beckoning bark
Then you trot off
In circles
Much like me,
Coming and pissing and leaving
From tree to tree 


Details | Rhyme | |

Sincerely

Sincerely

There’s one thing I know for sure
I’ve said it many times before
When it comes to knowing, I just don’t
I’ll never say ‘I know’ I won’t!!
No me I know nothing at all
Excepting ‘life is beautiful’!!
Some great power did make it thus
And in that power I do trust.

I see the flowers, I see the trees
I feel the breeze just flowing free
I see and hear the birds that sing
And to my heart all of this brings
A smile just like the morning sun
I’m so in love with the ‘power of one’
The truth it lives within my heart
As I proclaim it with my art.

My heart is always open wide
I sit in silence, look inside
And understand what life’s about
I have no knowledge, have no doubts
It’s written in my deepest core
The truth, I cannot tell you more
For words so clumsy, cannot say
What’s in the soul, there is no way!

I write this poem from my heart
So glad that fate gave me this art
This gift of writing truthfully
I cannot lie, I cannot be
A man who says I really know
Yet deep within my heart I glow
I have within me so much joy
And this, no power could destroy

6 October 2014.


Details | Free verse | |

Snow Falling on Tree in Winter

The tree never asks why?
"Why does the snow land on my branches?"
It cares little, for it knows it is enough--snow or no snow.
The tree never asks why?
"Why do those birds sit on my branches?"
It cares little, for it knows it is enough--birds or no birds.
The tree never asks why?
"Why does it grow dark day after day?"
It cares little, for it knows it is enough--year after year.
The tree never asks why?
"Why is there a heaven?  Why is there a hell?"
It cares little, for it knows it is enough when at last it's time to depart.


Details | I do not know? | |

The Swaying of the Grass

1.

 

A path leads,

to where wild grass grows,

 

sashaying in the summer breeze.

 

2.

 

Along the path,
lightness settles within,

 

feeling the grass,
swooning,
tickling ankles,

 

swaying to the lilting bird-song,

in a dance of intimate abandon,

 

brushing the remnants of pain away.

 

3.

 

Melodies float across fields of green,

delicately caressing my heart,

 

teasing emptiness to flee,

comforting the mind,

 

to silently be.

 

4.

 

Walking on,
savouring the peace,

 

a momentary respite,
from the burdens of the now,

 

all is quiet,

 

a stillness cradling fractured emotions,

 

the grass in the fields sway,

 

dusk descends,

 

shadows lengthen,

 

nudging dimming light to take leave,

 

of the day


Details | Rhyme | |

Whiskey Christmas

It was Christmas Eve; I was a prisoner of my own divide.
Lost in mind, clad in drunken sadness, caged up inside.
Alone and forlorn my thoughts laden with whiskey lies,
Memories seem so distant, only a week since goodbyes.
Christmas tree glistening, blurry in my vision of tears,
Flashing lights bright, neighbors Christmas party cheers.
No presents or joy in this household upon this night.
Sorrows, misguided gulps of liquor, cloud my sight.
Heartbroken, gloomy devouring the demon filled drink.
No more, no less, my eyes roamed over as I did think.
Hopelessly lost in a whirlwind of memories of no more,
No more, love by a lover, no daughter to teach the score.
Left me in a house, no longer our home that we shared,
Only I and this half-empty bottle, feeling impaired.
She left me, taking my child a thousand miles away.
While here in this house of torture, me and myself stay.
Every corner a recollection blinks by crystalline light.
Splintered and speckled by the twinkling star so bright.
Atop the now barren tree which had shined with joys.
Years before cluttered with wrappers, boxes and toys 
I slam a big gulp down my throat, since this was my first.
Night of my debut to the evil of whiskey blinding thirst,
Never before had drunkenness been a quest or even a try,
This night she devoured my soul, not wanting ever to cry.
Intoxication was a desire, though not ever beyond joy.
My virgin body of drink has choked me unable to deploy.
Sour mash tears wash down my face, wiping my eyes.
I hear my built up agony; pour out in inhuman cries.

User Name  Cecil Hickman

Sponsor Constance La France ~ A Rambling Poet ~ 
Contest Name Your "Saddest" Christmas Ever 


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 | Rhyme | |

Down the tree of dreams

Down the tree of Dreams
Giving in from too much pain this is the peak this is calamity
We let go as we fall into our oblivion
Weightless we seem now as we stretch our arms like wings
Falling into the cataclysm from our Echelon
For so long now we have hung by the branches of delirium
Waiting for our clinched hands to release
Its thorns scratch at our skin marring the thread of our dreams
The folding hands of time leave their crease
As we climb down branch to branch from delirium to paranoia
We see the clamoring of ideas and feelings
They clank and break down the well built walls of the womb
Devouring dreams of broken memories ever reeling
Distrust you must climb your branches up to delirium
While in linger of paranoia your poison flows
Already set in your path up the tree of madness a revolution
While sanity presses on your reason slows
Content at the base lying within its shadow of recognition
A twinkle of the eye within an intimate stream
Walking the Elysian Fields looking for answers from within
In the glaring horizon stands the tree of dreams
As we stand ready to climb
Drakavai2010


Details | Light Poetry | |

Marijuana

People around the world
Are smoking marijuana
Just like a coconut tree
Is god’s gift to nature?

But some men with power
They gone and make it illegal
When every one knows
The real problem is alcohol

Since the beginning of time
The tribes would come together
And they smoke the hemp
To make peace with one another

It’s a gift to mankind
Just Like the grass in your yard
Now they arrest you for this?
I think the world has gone mad

For some smoking marijuana
Does help focus on they studies
And its use by doctors, lawyers
And professors in universities

If you get arrest with marijuana
You will get a record for life
But some can walk in a store
Buy alcohol and drink and drive

It has so many different verities
Of alcohols in the store
But still they say we can’t 
Pick an herb and smoke no more

The tree of life grows by the river
Says the book of revelations
And the leaves of the tree 
Is the healing of the nations?

Marijuana cures much illness
It’s a healing remedy
But some use it to get stone
And that’s not the way it should be

These people are crazy today
They even abuse regular medication
So you can’t class them with others
Who use it for healing and meditation?

It has a name for the stoners
And its simple they’re abusers
And the name of others
Well they’re the real users

People are getting obese
By the fast foods of today
Yet it’s completely legal
To sit down and eat you life away

Cigarette is very dangerous
But the powerful like to smoke
When every day you see on TV
It cause cancer and leads to stroke

So if I want to smoke a joint
In the private comfort of my home
Then you should make it legal
And just leave me to hell alone


Details | Free verse | |

Pillar of Power

towering above the leaf-strewn lawn
is a pillar of power,
its many tiers executing the daily task
of lighting your obstruction box.

the birds seem to enjoy the view,
wouldn't you agree?
but I cannot help but wonder if they
would be happier, healthier
in their tree castles,
where they can look through the
branches to the soil they are 
firmly rooted to -
the most primitive connection of elements,

the bird -
the tree -
the earth.


Details | Fibonacci | |

Sequoia Sempervirens

Tall 
Tree
Planted
By stream grows
Tallest so it seems
Sends out roots shallow they grow far
Away sixty feet helps to support the tree in wind
One tree could not stand alone but needs support system of others depends on many more


Details | Rhyme | |

Fallen Leaves

Leaves of a tree,
Many colors I see,
But mostly green.
Plenty I have seen!
Reminds me of me,
Fallen from the evergreen!
Some crumpled and brown,
Dried and dead on the ground!
Fallen leaves of a tree falling loosely and falling free!
Reminds me of a spirit down,
Fallen away from its identity!
Leaves of a tree,
Many I can see,
But mostly brown.
Plenty on the ground!
Reminds me of me,
Fallen from the golden crown!
Some still healthy and green,
Shiny and whole from what I have seen.
Fallen leaves of a tree falling loosely and falling free!
Reminds me of a vision foreseen,
Fallen from Grace in society!
Leaves of a tree,
Many I see.
But mostly brown!
Many I have found.
Reminds me of me!
Fallen away from a life of dignity!


Details | Kimo | |

One Tree

the tree stands guard out on the lonely plain
a beacon for all to see
and the world is at peace

it's leaves are festooned with the look of spring
a ring of flowers beneath
a sign of peace to come

yet no one looks upon this tree of peace
too caught up in their own way
and never to know peace

mdailey   3/6/12


Details | Lyric | |

Embracing Aloneness

A plumeria blossom floats to the earth.
Is it a death?  Or is it a birth?
It lands with its face touching the ground.
Never shall it be a hula crown.

The luster of its blossom shines upward like a star
A symbol of my aloneness in a place so far.
A crown or a symbol.  In the end, is there a difference?
The hula crown too is destined to the earth in a sense.

Lady Gaia opens her heart to all in a gesture of love.
She receives the return of both blooms as a gift from above.
One plumeria adorned a dancer’s hair;
Its fragrance and beauty appreciated beyond compare.

One bloom left the tree on its own, catching a breeze, hoping to fly.
Yet, it sails to the ground, rather than dance in the sky.
Its brave action is noticeable only to one.  
The person who sits alone in the sun.

A blossom’s daring act of leaving the tree all alone
Has mirrored my life and cuts to the bone.
The significance of its exploit brings tears to my face;
And in this very moment, my aloneness I embrace.

Mahalo nui, little earth star, plumeria blossom
The treasure you have given me is truly awesome!
Recognition is but a fleeting diversion;  
Touching one soul with love is a lasting conversion


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 | Free verse | |

send him out of his mother's womb

Send him out of his mothers womb!
into a new moon of snare free engagements
fragrance seeps through his skin while animals fall from the cloudless sky
like rainstorms 
the animals send worms to pavement, as all things need air
the man can feel his thoughts, but are they really there?
he receives short lived lashes...
those gashes go unfilled and turn into stashes of wasted potential
he has no vindication 
compromising wiser words his life is filling with implications
a rising tree growing near him
stops short of it's potential and bends in anticipation, 
the tree asks the man.......
“what really lies within?”
with no response.......
the man looks into himself and he knows what he wants
the man falls into the river and floats in his own thoughts

Send him out of his mothers womb!
Manage this man's mind and free him of this tree's questions bind
he floats downstream and dreams of that tree 
hopes to god that he hasn't injured it's branches and leaves
he knows “what lies within” but the question sinks the man who could hardly swim
deep in the river it's too dark to see
clarification and love are mysterious things



I'm still working on this one a bit..


Details | Blank verse | |

Brittle finger tree

Brittle finger tree slouching alone, ignored on by the breeze.
		
Days float under your toes,
no hands of friends to hold.
		Poor, brittle finger tree you pray to the Son and sleep in the rain.
			No heart to listen,
no pocket watch to keep—no time to know
how old you’d be if today a cake appeared with candles aglow.

Brittle finger tree wrestling alone.
Recklessly diving into the ground 
unmeaning to disturb baby birds whom house themselves 
in your little, bitter world.
	
	Brittle little finger tree, someday, you must grow. 
As people pass they find themselves apart of your earth.
		You’ll feel the circle of life—you’ll imagine
pretty little girls and boys carving their love into your skin—no blood--- no blood will flow.

	Brittle little finger tree, your last breath has flown.
		Taken from your finger tips, left dying on sallow grounds.
	
	No one can always stand straight. Lean, my brittle little love, alone.


Details | Free verse | |

rainbow seekers

the right path or the left path , from stories of old ,
each one leading to a pot of gold ,
the tree of life , and the withering tree ,
hither and thither , here and there ,
what we found , wither is , were a tree ,
a shadow on sacred ground .

two seperate messages , written into mankinds constitution
free will and choice , only one leads to absolution
love is our pathway , but roadblocked with fear
pain and suffering , garments stained with our tears
hope and faith are within' , true attributes
we must continue to reach out and contribute
against all odds and cruel assumptions
against distraction and misguided presumptions
unconditional love is our true guide
the wise , not the sly , are the ones to abide
the magi , sages , wise men of the ages
forewarned of books with empty pages
the literal interpretation and translation
has created more confusion than fusion
a roadmap of sorts , to light up those pathways
of our own spiritual journey , towards the secrets
those mysteries locked up inside all .