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Mother Tree Poems | Mother Poems About Tree

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

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Details | Free verse | |

Slender Birch

Steel Gray skies with threatening rain and restless wind
My breath gathers as mist on the inside of the window pane
...as I watched for the school bus

A slender birch tree with spiral scars 
of flayed bark against its white skin
like curlicues of sharpened pencil shavings

Still clutching many bright yellow leaves, 
Some collecting at its base like a discarded garment
Sunlight, just a small shaft flickers bright dapples on tiny dancers
Ocherous curtains against the bruised sky

Prodigious vibrant final act
Just for me
The tree manages a sly curtsey 
in my direction, 
Sacrificing more of her fragile costume

My beautiful rosy-cheeked child kicks playfully
through the saffron sea of discarded programs
“Here are some for you Mama” he says
as he bursts into the kitchen smelling of peanut butter and early fall
There he deposits a chubby handful of my regard 
gently into my apron pocket

And into my heart's hiding place as well
Perfect poignant performance;
Beautifully done slender birch,
Most beautifully done


Details | Ballad | |

Living my dream

Living my dream

I had one dream when I was young
To go to another land
In life I wasn’t satisfied
I wanted something grand
Lions, tigers. Kangaroos
And all those wild, wild beasts
Africa, South America
Or Australia at least.

Possessive Mother was my curse
How could I get away?
Every time I mentioned it
She had so much to say
And made me feel so guilty
Really cramped my style
And then one day there came along
Something to make me smile

I’d just turned my nineteenth year
When this great girl came along
She hailed from West Australia
And filled my heart with song
So we got married, had some kids
And here we are in Oz
Been here for half a century
And I came here all because

It was my fate to find this girl
She was my destiny
There’s be a whisper in the skies
That knows how things will be
It takes one’s soul, and leads it on
So growth, it might occur
And I know that west Australia
My heart, it sure does stir.

4 August 2013 @ 1440hrs.


Details | Free verse | |

The Whittler

Upon his grandfather's rocking chair 
on the porch in the cool crisp air
sits a man with a special gift.
For he can see the soul of a tree
within a piece of wood upon his knee.

His pile of cedar gives off a sweet smell.
He picks through the pieces, eyes closed,
his touch feels what is enclosed.
As if he were to reach within the wood 
by pulling  it apart  from its protective bark 
and removing what’s inside from the dark.
The Whittler will release this soul from its cage!

Each meticulous movement of the knife in hand
is meant to bring out something so grand.
After hours of work, fingers cramping into knots
the soul held within in this piece arose
to be a magnificent fully blossomed rose.

Beautiful just like the ones his gram 
planted beneath her father's old cedar tree, by hand.


Adam Hapworth, With These Hands, 12/13/2013, Image #3


Details | Free verse | |

The Backside of Killington Mountain

Killington Mountain, one of the largest Ski resorts in New England.
With its webbing of trails, dotted with colourful kaleidioscopic ski outfits;
racing to the Castle they call a Base Lodge.

My Cabin is atop a mountain across two valleys from Killington's backside
I can see the untamed, wild and free side of Mother Nature's: True being
Where deers have no fears, and the Bald Eagle soars Free

I once did a recue mission there, and when all were safe, I walked
Into the forrest of Nature,where mankind had never before intruded
I walked where the Deer, Bed. where the eaglets squawked for food

I saw the Black Bear awake; "Good Morning Mrs. Black Bear"she Yawned
And walked away.I heard the Evergreens giggle as melting snow ticked Pines
The Serenity,Tranquility,enveloped me in Nature's Wonder of the World.
      Inspired by Linda(PD) with her Contest: 7 Wonders of the Ancient and
                     New World. This POEM is one of my 7 Wonders.
This is Dedicated to all POETS who have written about the Autrocitys of 
Mankind to "  Nature or THE Beauty of Mother Nature in Rhyme "
                           This is not a Contest Entree


Details | Rhyme | |

'Twas The Week After Christmas

'Twas the week after Chrstmas and all through the house
The children were sleeping, too tired to arouse,
When all of a sudden there appeared in the room,
Mama in her nightcap, carrying a broom.

The stockings once hanging on mantle in row,
Were picked off the floor, into storage they go.
All the glitter of Christmas, now tarnished and torn,
Must be removed from the room ere the New Year is born.

She tackled the tree, taking some care,
To remove every light, the tree was soon bare.
She packed everything, put it safely away
On a shelf in the basement 'til next Christmas Day.

The fine Christmas spirit she'd had, was now flagging.,
She must clean up the mess to keep it from sagging.
She dragged out the tree and then heaved a big sigh,
Sat down with her coffee and had a good cry.



This was modeled after Clement Clark Moore's,  'Twas TheNight Before Christmas'


Details | Rhyme | |

The Little Leaf

The little leaf held tightly
to his mother tree's bark.
He started to get frightened
when the sky began to get dark.
But the mother tree comforted him,
filling his little heart with love.
"It puts the world to sleep," she said,
"and is sent from the One above."
As the love between the leaf and tree grew stronger,
the weather began to change.
The color of green seemed to fade,
and the little leaf felt strange.
"What is happening to me?"
he asked his mother tree.
"It's a natural part of life, my child," she said,
"you're becoming who you're meant to be."
The leaf turned a beautiful bright yellow,
as summer changed into fall.
He danced in the golden sunlight,
feeling a thousand feet tall.
Again, the weather started to change,
and the growing leaf asked to leave.
So the mother tree let go of her child,
but her heart wanted to grieve.
The cold wind blew this little leaf
far away from his mother tree.
As he joined the sleepy earth,
he was glad that his mother set him free.


Details | Narrative | |

The Tinsel Tree


"It's a fake tree", I said the year
my mother lost her mind and decided that real trees were too much trouble!
My best friend, who lived next door
thought it was just great,....that giant, silver monstrosity!
That is..until I told her to close her eyes, and sniff.
"That's the ugliest tree I ever smelled!" she said, ...finally agreeing with me.
Her support helped to convince my mother of her error in judgment,
and that was the last tinsel tree we ever had.

That was the same year
that we noticed that Santa Claus looked a lot
like our neighbor, Mr. Hendrickson.
We had called him "Mr. Hiccupson"
until we would go into fits of giggles
watching how his belly jiggled.  

Spending all those Christmas's apart
 after her family moved away, was painful
Never again would we have special sleepovers, 
      and times like singing around that fake tree,
         and listening for Mr. Hendrickson's reindeer to land on the roof.
We had written letters for awhile, but after a few years
   we drifted apart....her living on one coast, me on the other.
But I had never forgotten that last Christmas....and the silver tinsel tree.

Out of the blue...a phone call,...a voice that time hadn't forgotten.
Suddenly, we were laughing and giggling like two little girls once again.
Sometimes, when you least expect it,
Christmas shows up early,....like a long lost friend
   and wraps you up in it's arms.
         Thank you Santa Claus.....or Mr. Hiccupson, ......wherever you are.....


Details | Ballad | |

The Last Voyage

THE LAST VOYAGE

Like a straw man,
Hunted by gusts of wind
(in order to outrun death),
I am returning to the valley of my childhood;
To see the old home one last time,
To see the old walnut tree one last time,
under which my mother used to read
Mark Twain's wonderful stories to me.
Nothing is the same anymore, everyone is dead,
Apart from memories and the old walnut tree;
Its old, trembling, bare branches
are impatiently waiting
to hug me one last time.

When destiny leaves you alone in the dark;
When your mother and father leave you early,
all you have left are dreams,
Yes, my friend, life rolls along the road of dreams,
And each dream is finished soon;

Just one more time,
I'd like to touch the coarse face of the old walnut tree,
To find a long lost tear
below its tired feet.
When I started on this long voyage,
The night was bright, and our beautiful walnut tree cried,
Yes, my friend, trees can cry too;
 
Just one more time,
I'd like to touch the old walnut tree,
To cling my face against my old friend's face,
Like a beloved son,
To hear the happy voices of my mother and father;
When your memories fade, drop down to your knees
To feel how the earth loves,
So your memories can find their sacred sanctuary.
When they want to kill your memories, hoist your flag of dreams
And keep on marching your way, like a noble soldier of freedom,
Because few are the poets who are honored
To finish their voyage
In the place they were born.

©Walter William Safar
  





Details | Free verse | |

My Mothers Doll

Weeping on the window sill.
A long pass love to give.
A doll that with stand time.
Like wear and tear on its strings inside.
The sand that flows in an hour glass.
Is a way to find a love that pass.
My mother holds it once again.
A cool person who love to give.
She gives it to my brothers daughter.
With it sitting on a spindle it can spin.
To thread it back into its former self.
It begins a new love with in.


Details | Free verse | |

Bearing Fruit

Long hopes for my bearers fruited comfort, of new soft sins quarreled.

‘Tis  lost.

The tree grew,

no caretaker to guide it’s way to the sky.

It’s limbs sprawled and gnarled with contempt and confusion.

 One yearns for you’re insight.

Though beyond, the tree will bore it’s supple fruit,

‘Tis  fruit will not be lost.

Caretakers will guide their way.


Details | Ballade | |

A Coat of Banter

Your tree limbs have been good friends with time
Stretched over the watery deep
Surrounded by decay as snow fell in the winter-time
The earth seemed jaded slow brown in its creep
Up to your strong roots as if dependent
On your overwhelming determination
Not to give up every minute spent
Giving love whether true, tainted or infatuation
You are a Marvel of creation

The snow's cold stayed a bit from you
Respecting your perseverance
At times i dream clearly of you
Happy, helpful, caring, steeped in your vigilance
As if you have to do all these things
A ransom you pay for the extra time you've spent
Adorning yourself in life's frills
Giving your all in everything laying patient
You are a Marvel of creation

In celebration of your days we all came
Flowing in from life's treacherous chill we resign
Our hearts smiling as we bask in fame
Cause you are of no ordinary design
This rough life seems only to blossom
Your flowerless tree branches
Grasping why we cannot begin to fathom
Giving you new reasons to peer into these trenches
Changing our lives with warmth, if that alone
You are a Marvel of Creation

                                        Copyright May2007 J.R. Thomas


Details | Blank verse | |

a christmas remembered

A Christmas Remembered 

Day before Christmas it was cold and we walked down 
to the harbour to buy a tree and I remember the sea 
that slapped against the dock was apple green and foamy. 
Mother bought a tree, for next to nothing, since its top 
was broken and it looked like a rejected child that waited 
for a car to come pick it up and bring it to the orphanage 
 By putting the tree on top of the dinner table and a star 
and a bit of glitter it looked nice in a child’s eye. 

Mother was angry we didn’t know way, and went to bed.
We children sat on the floor and ate lukewarm rice pudding 
and there was nothing under the tree. Mother got up told 
us to dress and we walked to my uncle’s house. At first he 
didn’t want to let her in, but when he saw us children he 
opened the door.  We had plenty to eat although my aunt 
had a sour mien. But happy we walked home and thought 
we had had a splendid Christmas.  


Details | Ballade | |

THE LAST VOYAGE

  
THE LAST VOYAGE

Like a straw man,
Hunted by gusts of wind
(in order to outrun death),
I am returning to the valley of my childhood;
To see the old home one last time,
To see the old walnut tree one last time,
under which my mother used to read
Mark Twain's wonderful stories to me.
Nothing is the same anymore, everyone is dead,
Apart from memories and the old walnut tree;
Its old, trembling, bare branches
are impatiently waiting
to hug me one last time.

When destiny leaves you alone in the dark;
When your mother and father leave you early,
all you have left are dreams,
Yes, my friend, life rolls along the road of dreams,
And each dream is finished soon;

Just one more time,
I'd like to touch the coarse face of the old walnut tree,
To find a long lost tear
below its tired feet.
When I started on this long voyage,
The night was bright, and our beautiful walnut tree cried,
Yes, my friend, trees can cry too;
 
Just one more time,
I'd like to touch the old walnut tree,
To cling my face against my old friend's face,
Like a beloved son,
To hear the happy voices of my mother and father;
When your memories fade, drop down to your knees
To feel how the earth loves,
So your memories can find their sacred sanctuary.
When they want to kill your memories, hoist your flag of dreams
And keep on marching your way, like a noble soldier of freedom,
Because few are the bohemians who are honored
To finish their voyage
In the place they were born.

Walter William Safar
  











Details | I do not know? | |

mother dear

Told to let go of mother's sleeves,
Told to know all that she believes,
Told to wait by this tree,
Told to wait as she leaves-

She leaves her world behind,
I look for her, but I cannot find
Her- my mother- left on a dime,
I guess I just ran out of time,

To tell her I love her,
And I will always stir,
At her name meantioned- burrr...
Sadness comes while the kids mock, 
"No dur!"

I will follow her last command,
To wait by this tree to take her 
stand,
Always wishing for her hand,
To swoop down and make life not as 
bland,

Standing at the tree of life,
It only seemed to give me strife,
I'll make my death short and 
concise,
I won't gamble my life with dice,

I just want mother dear,
To give me a hug and always be 
near,
As I take a branch with a single tear,
Hit my head hard to make every fear
Go away to mother dear.


Details | Free verse | |

This crooked family tree

As I stand here gazing  upon
A row of trees nearing their demise
My mind is overcome by a barrage 
Of paralyzing truths
That have contaminated my spirit
Like a river transposing itself
Into an infested swamp
Nonetheless, the sight before me
Whispers to my imagination



This family tree is crooked: 
What compels ones sister 
To seduce another sisters husband? 
Just yesterday they were sharing
Clothes and make-up
Today, they share the same lover



The tree has become withered: 
Susie flees from home again
While Uncle Jake is far too under
The chains of influence to notice
I thought children came first
Then alcohol was second



That tree has shaded  to grey: 
Tony searches for drug money
While Aunt Sara is on the prowel
For a new husband at 
The corner tavern again
However, I did not realize
 New uncles were so easy to find



The branches are twisted: 
Mommy never kissed Santa Claus
On Christmas eve night, 
Instead, Aunt Sharon was kissing 
Her husbands brother under the mistletoe
After everyone went to sleep
Or so they thought, 
An old song takes on a new meaning



All the leaves have fallen: 
Great grandmother loved reciting
Stories of the family history
It is now that I understand why, 
She left some tales untold



So I wonder, 
Who planted these trees?


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 | Personification | |

A Tree So Grand

Once there stood a tree so Grand
With yellow flowers and confidence,
She bent and swayed with each day
So eventually I came her way.

Her branches grew so very strong
Around the small and broken one
She guided me through those trees
Taking each step so wonderfully 

The tree so strong stood watching me grow spiritually
Then somehow withered woefully
I did not notice her go away, 
Unaware of her despair, I marched Onwards 

Without warning,she became tangled with vines,
so painfully
Now I see the tree you used to be
You were so strong and we did belong
But now you’re gone, oh! What went wrong?

That tree is my mother I followed so close
And God made her strong and we did belong
To someone so wonderful, but someone else could see
The happiness that came to me, 
so he took her away from me!

Though one branch hangs uncomfortably
My tree tries to grow stubbly 
While God lifts my head brisk fully
I know in my heart, me and my family

Will go on serving him faithfully
But deep in my heart I can’t help but see
The pain of loosing that one, once, Grand tree.


Details | Blank verse | |

A Night

A night, 
When he was sleeping upstairs, 
He heard a noise,
Someone was weeping bitterly.

He switched on the light,
And came out,
Moon was flashing everywhere,
Cool wind was also in motion.

He looked at the sky,
Stars were twinkling,
In the heart of a blue sky,
When there were no clouds.

He watched every where,
He had seen nobody,
Old tree was standing in a shadow,
In the middle of a lawn.

He came back in,
And enters into the kitchen,
Where he drinks water,
And stops for a cup of tea.

He heard again sobbing,
He came to the window 
And looked out very carefully,
He saw old tree was crying.

He came out and went to the tree,
And asked his problem, 
You cut my twigs,
I never complain. He said,

But today, I don’t know
What was in your mind?
You cut my soft leaves,
That’s why I am weeping.


Details | ABC | |

My tree nevers blooms any more

When we first started out our love was new
we planted a tree in our yard 
our tree bloomed that summer 
cindy, our neighbor wonder why
I told her it bloomed off of love 
she said no wonder my tree doesn't bloom,
 I have no one to love
I told her she'd find love soon
two years passed my tree stopped blooming
my husband?Where is he? At cindy "fixing" something
her tree's in bloom, but she doesn't have a man
oh now I know wonder why my tree is never in bloom