Oh how I hate the winter where my limbs are exposed and seen
I just adore the spring time, I wear my dress of emerald green
Draping myself in lush foliage, not an inch of body you can see
Until warm winds of autumn arrive and begin to undress me
Then I start to shiver as my gown of golden leaves falls away
Leaving me cold and naked until spring returns again one day
Contest - Trees Personified
Sponsor – Charlotte Jade Puddifoot
Copyright © JAN ALLISON
I stood as though reborn on mounded dirt,
which seemed so moist it strangely could assuage
the ache from bowels that howled from so much hurt.
Would ground then be my cure or a mirage?
Enticed, I deeply pressed each foot through soil
till they took root and fixed me to a spot.
My ever-thickening trunk served well to foil
the plots of those who’d cut me. . . . they could not!
My limbs, though mighty branches, could not bend;
stubbornly I fought my transplantation.
I weathered storms that God or man might send,
sightless, living long in desolation.
Self preservation did this much for me:
old loved ones passed and I remained a tree.
For the Trees Personification Contest of Charlotte Jade Puddifoot
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich
My slender boughs are bowed
by the great weight of my grief,
and these are not leaves
cascading to soil, but tears of teal.
I am shaken by a sorrowful breeze;
my sap taken by the fading light,
dried out and hollowed, a rasp of parched bark;
creaking and weeping
with the weight of my mythology
as cold takes hold, scoring its mark on bark,
rippling and stippling my leaves;
a shivering shroud of green settling over me.
Yet eternity rings coil at my core, ensure
tiers of teardrop leaves will glisten with life again,
drooping and dripping in a shimmering baptism of rain.
Copyright © Charlotte Jade Puddifoot
A conceited spring leaf, with pride in its heart
Its vigor and its beauty
The tree, how important it and its sibling leaves were,
And that without them naked the tree would have remained
Foliage, that so majestically the tree had dressed which, not only
Oxygen supplied to the tree
Also protection from the wind and for the birds a place to
Make their home.
The tree, after the leaf its long monologue had finished,
Turned towards it and asked with a sardonic smile:
“Where would you be, my newborn friend, if I were not
To provide, my branches for you to grow on
Nourishment from my roots that are hidden in the
© Demetrios Trifiatis
12 MARCH 2015
* All stories I write with such dialogues, are the result of inspiration.
If, however, the story is not a poetic one, Please, blame me and not
Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis
From seed to sprout
Then twig to bough
From shade to light
Together upward t`ward the sun
From hope to faith then love,
Embrace my death,
And grow with me.
Copyright © Ryan Farmer
How I take pride when you come to my side
You can't stay away, and I sway as you play
Running your fingers over my peekaboo veil of lace
My emerald covering of grace…
I tremble as you sigh as you cry…your soul dry
Falling, crumbling, crawling...
to that place at my base
Your welcomed retreat….when his kisses were sweet
Taken in by my charm, the beauty of my name, my fame
lovers, you frolicked without shame....
Now he says you're to blame
“Weeping Willow”, you whisper….”Nothing’s the same”…..
There you lie; there you cry….and the day, it goes by
beside the placid lake where I stand as you quake
I want to sweep you up, shake all dormant senses awake….
Please...make no mistake....
I’m rooted in soil; I toil, not letting the goodness...spoil
The first of my peers to herald the spring, comfort I bring
Now my arms, I stretch down….touching the ground….
I cloister you deep; do not weep...
Let me lull you to sleep,
while my promise I keep:
Weeping Willow watches over You….
For Charlotte Puddifoot's Tree Contest
August 22, 2015
Copyright © Eileen Manassian
Standing straight and tall, I am happy among my next of kin
Graceful and gracious, accepting and at one with nature
The gentle whisper of the wind is music in our midst
A cornucopia of chirping sounds you’ll hear from the birds.
Do you ever wonder how I have grown at last
For it was only six weeks ago that I was not on this spot
Yet it would seem that right before your very eyes
I grew so fast, that even after just a night you get surprised.
My story cannot be told without mentioning the farmer
Who day after day, year after year for five straight years
Never gave up on me, a testimony of perseverance and trust
and hope and faith in One Almighty and the power of a dream.
Knowing the value of patience, he waited and cared for me
oh so tenderly…never gave up on me that I dared ever not
conceive of disappointing him, so while he gave my needs
every day, I did what I had to do. I grew.
Not above but underneath the ground, where no one can see,
to build that inner strength, deeply rooted in my seed
that one day when the right time came on the fifth year
I literally just shot off the ground. Miracles do abound.
I am ever giving. I give food to the hungry, a shelter
for the homeless...even a bed, a seat and the fence
I provide clothing and more. It is my nature to give.
From my innermost being I provide freshness in the air.
Strong and resilient, I am not cowed by storms
They give their all to topple me from where I stand
yet I hold my ground. I may bend and sway for the wind
but after a while I stand straight again, not losing my grip.
I learned to accept my weakness and be proud of my strength
An image of one who is calm, I am at peace with myself.
26 August 2015
For Rob Carmack's
SCREWED VI Contest
Copyright © Kim Patrice Nunez
THE HUMBLE CATHEDRAL
In the glaring eyes of the sun
dressed thin in lush green moss,
my shady sky-high trunk compeer
dark brown wrinkled arms spreading free
my slender fingers of verdant hue.
They swing, swing in quiet seesaws
attune to the cradling light of July breeze.
Pleased and appeased, I puff and puff:
oxygen dancing slow with other gas.
The blowing winds from the east,
The heaven tears cascading down,
they bathe and cleansed me but!
They too disturb causing murmurs
and rustles during my deep sleep...
Fall approaches, smell of despair hangs,
it pose danger making my leaves sad.
I began to weep as they slowly tumble,
tumbling below, leaving me naked.
Facing later the harsh bites of cold,
my arms turned brittle from right to left,
hearing them creak and break. Thankfully,
my feet safe beneath the ground.
I stood firm together with my friends,
unafraid of the ice but so scared
of humans carrying a sharp ax.
==Contest Name: TREES PERSONIFIED==
=Contest Sponsor: Charlotte Pudifoot=
9:32 pm, August 26, 2015
Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo
the tallest I’ve ever seen was in primary
towering like a General in the military
a haggard expression of pain and disgust
the needle like leaves his ooze would discard
he seemed so staunch in his camouflage and upright salute
the pinecones resembling a grenade assault
as curious children do, to climb we were too eager
mystery lay hidden somewhere in his evergreen erect figure
the teacher would soon be called to the rescue
climbing down now an impossible chore
some disciplinary action would be enforced
he wouldn't even be swaying in the wind this unmoveable force
then one day the war would finally be won
it took a couple of grades of broken bones and casting stones
high up in his clutches where our balls would be stuck
he would be uprooted and loaded onto the back of the truck
but when he left, the school grounds seemed so empty
he had retired after generations serving this country
that's why it now felt like such a pyrrhic victory
in hindsight, he was truly our sentry
Contest: Charlotte Jade Puddifoot's Trees Personified
Copyright © Thabang Ngoma
A flock of Christmas doves
carried a turquoise veil
through a white winter sky
and found a willow tree
weeping and alone
in the cold of a December day
The veil was pinned in the sky
and twenty five doves
alit in the bare branches
so the tree was no longer alone
as it listened to the song
of the doves in the chilled morning air..
Copyright © valerie bellefleur
The day I died, a village cried
and tears washed to the river's side
I meant the world, to my survivors
A Valley Oak......yes, that was me...
A stately tree with history
They drew from me a sense of pride
Four hundred years, I had sheltered them
with limbs that reached up to the sky.
I stood my ground, through all the rain
They understood, my worth, my veins
ran deeper than the eye could see
FOUR HUNDRED YEARS!.....Yes, I was old !!
And blood turned cold the day I fell
You see, I was much more than Oak
I spoke for those who've long been gone.
I reigned beside this countryside
and watched the tribes beneath the sky
I saw the white men, take away
and claim the ground beneath me, found
And soon a way of life would end
And I would bend my boughs, to pray
Four hundred years, I've overlooked
a river bend, below my limbs
I watched the steamboats ferry men
and saw men die, and saw men rise
and saw men carry hope again
And those who came so long ago
would build a town that grew to know
how values and our valiant strides
are deep as roots, as mine that grew
I was not just a simple tree...
I had a place in history...
I sat beside a little house
One still a treasured artifact
Once built along the river's bend,
It now sits naked in my tracks
without the shade that I had lent
The man who lived here, led a state
The first to govern, in my shade
It is a fact that through the years
I've watched and shed a thousand tears
What will become of what is left?
A town is left, a state bereft
But facts can't change that I was here...
My roots hang tight to yesteryear
They've grieved, and shed their tears for me
when winds prevailed, and down I fell
I wish them well, and if I can
.....I'll try to surge from down within
perhaps one root will sprout, and tell
my leaves to find the breeze again
Inspired By Tree Personification Contest
Based on the actual tree that came down in my home town
Copyright © Carrie Richards
We are the high altitude sentinels.
Our small groves freckle the high plains.
We keep to ourselves, mostly
upon the snow burdened peaks
where our ashen trunks blend
and our barren branches cling
to icy white glitter.
As the breath of winter ebbs
we watch the crystal spring run-off
growing ever greener with envy
of how it races down the hill; babbling.
We whisper this to one another
in the crisp mountain air, solemn
as we keep watch.
From our station on the precipice
we behold fully the majestic sun
revering at dusk how it paints the sky.
In the failing warmth of autumn,
we offer in turn, our own reflection of
magnificent golden sunset skies
in our shimmering yellow foliage.
We keep company with pines,
firs, spruces, and other prickly sorts.
Conifers aren’t social, which suits us
as we keep mostly to ourselves.
Sentinels must remain vigilant, after all,
watchful for approaching danger.
We quake from paranoia, probably.
Our bark is pale, above all, for fear.
We’ve seen your kind before.
Your kind we watch most carefully.
If you look close, you will see
from our thousand dark eyes
we always look closely back at you.
Are you dangerous?
Submission for contest: Trees Personified
Hosted by: Charlotte Jade Puddifoot
*I loved the aspens when my family would go camping in the high Uinta mountain range in Utah. They are beautiful and they can grow at such high elevation (above 10,000 ft) it's really amazing.
Copyright © The Grahamburglar
I am naked now, my limbs are bare
A chill blows through me during the night air
No one notices me, children do not climb
I stand still hoping not to lose a branch of mine
No green, no orange, no red I am just grey
This season I do not like because of being this way
Soon the sun will begin to show
My little buds of color start to glow
Encircled by luscious green grass I will be
Seasons are my life, this next one I like.
©Holly P. Moore
Copyright © HOLLY MOORE
My bark is worn from time and life
My steady branches have withstood much strife
The life blood that raged in my youth
Its edges raw and at times uncouth
Time has polished and as steel has hardened
As I have stood watch faithfully in my garden
My saplings I have sheltered and nourished
Their tiny sprouts have grown and flourished
My work here is almost done and
I was content to stand silent in the sun
However, one day as I stood alone
Came a carpenter with hands gentle and strong
He looked past my peeling ragged bark and
Found my barely beating heart.
He has caused me to dream of my youth again
Of beauty, peace and the passion of men
I am his project to mold and to make
A challenge only he is equipped to take
I stand here now curious to see
What this craftsman can make of me.
Copyright © Tina Anderson
Glorious spring sunshine kiss my limbs as they sprout
With each opening bud, "I'm so alive" I want to shout
April showers cling to me as I drink each delicious drop
Hopefully chosen by blue jays to build their nest atop
Caterpillars and ants tickle me as they crawl to and fro
Nothing sweeter than watching everything around me grow
Come sit under me, take a break from the hot summer sun
Join me as I watch the baby birds leave their nest one by one
Let's marvel at the beautiful butterflies that flutter all around
The music of my friend the humming bird will surely astound
Smell the delightful fragrance of all the many flowers in bloom
Capture the magic nearby of a newly wedded bride and groom
I'm bursting with colors of yellow, orange, red, gold and brown
I proudly smile each time one of my leaves cascade down
Laughing children make my day as they roll in my splendor
You taking my picture makes this memory much more tender
Scurrying squirrels truly fascinate me, as my acorns they hide
Forgotten ones will one day be my saplings, I'll burst with pride
Snow flakes have delightedly dressed me in a suit of white
City folk string me with lights, I boastfully light up the night
Skaters whipping by me, their energy and actions are compelling
I feel so very blessed to have been rooted within this dwelling
Come and join in the festivities and beauty of each and every season
Become a memory on my branches, I can't think of a better reason
*Dedicated to the 50-80 year old trees in Gage Park, Brampton
Copyright © Cecilia Macfarlane
The tree stretches its branches
Like a cat waking up from sleep
Its leaves give a little shake
Almost like a gentle sneeze
Looks down at the passing river
Snaking its way past its roots
Watering nature as it meanders by
Grass and plants with wormlike shoots
Where is this river running to
What mysteries does it leave behind
Any evil teardrops to poison you
Or just happiness of the watery kind
Whatever hope this picture brings
Look for the sun as it bursts with song
Remember that tree with its catlike stretch
And the lazy river meandering along.
Copyright © SEREN ROBERTS
It is strange
how things that we see
and take for granted
in everyday life
should suddenly instil
in our minds
a new awareness
of their presence
A silent moment
a brief pause
from life's ever quickening pace
a moment of peace -
in times like these
a common thing
like a dried old tree
becomes alive with beauty
It stands like a quiet sentinel
who has witnessed
many an event
Time has passed by
but it remains
silently standing there
What secrets do you store
in your noble branches?
How many events have you recorded
that man knows nothing of?
In your younger days
when you wore your mantle of green
you nested the carefree birds
to their offspring
you gave protection
When the sun scorched the earth
you gave them cool shade
On a cool windy night
you gave them warmth
How pleasant was their song
to your ear
as they sang a song of thanks
You were a playmate to the children
When they romped at your feet
or climbed on your branches
Time grew older
and the children became lovers
You saw them kiss in your shade
soft with the light of the moon
The aura of their love
touched your leaves
and you blushed
they have all gone away
but you still remain
still waiting and watching
How many untold events
have you witnessed
faithful keeper of secrets?
O that my soul could commune with you
and share of your rugged beauty!
Most Noble Tree!
forgive me for my
Copyright © john beharry
I know your father,
And his fathers too,
I know you all,
And now, without a frown
You want to tear me down.
Do your fathers know ?
And children`s children ?
I feed the air,
Embrace the earth.
I keep the flame,
And waters hold.
How will you cope,
When I am gone
Devoid of hope?
The air will choke
And earth will move
Fires consume and
Waters wash away.
When I am gone, how will you cope,
Dear one, devoid of any hope?
Copyright © Ryan Farmer
In our quiet senario,
I saw a tree stare
At me, it told me it
Was going to die
I asked why and it
"I doth Love but
I asked why.
It replied in tears,
"My hours has come,
soon it Would be thine.
I too wept.
Copyright © Chukwuemeka Anyikwa
In the forrest of people
I am the Chunky tree
with long roots.
I communicate under ground-
I have curves an
I lift my face
and my hands
to the heavens,
slim and beautiful
Still I am not
eager to become
tree in the woods.
I dance seductively
when the wind blows
I bow and bend
my bough proudly
I reverence the
Submission is the
only survival I know.
Copyright © Vicki Acquah
Oh how this bodice is dressed in taffeta,
Lined with hundreds of lavender pleats
Spiraling, drooping, whirling
All over my voluptuous contour …
Bare these limbs grinding on soft moss
To tap among rustled displays
From many a lovers’ heat to children’s romp.
I gaze at my long tresses hung by threads
Of July frills, combing the strands
Delicate as clusters in a spin that ignites
The evening air, the lush of daylight’s vine…
And like Kojin in a free-fall prance, I cascade
Through a mantle of grass, my arms floating
Over wisps of mildest pink, of boldest lavender;
Then to curtsy in a prayerful Shinto bow
Under heaven's marquee where my chants
about lonesome tales are hushed in secrecy.
At nightfall, stars circle my lit frame,
The aroma of wisteria's mint huffs
outside my pores and unto an earthy glow;
Young the nippled buds swelling in lusty dusk
Till I gently writhe as a mystical shadow of the woods.
Charlotte J Puddifoot's Contest: Trees Personified
~ The wisteria tree is packed with an assemblage
of purple blossoms, falling in tapered clusters
to symbolize a kneeling pose of honor and devotion
based on Asian folklore.
~ Kojin: Japanese Tree Goddess
Copyright © nette onclaud
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.”
Copyright © Spenser Jones
Soaking in the sun
Surrounded by painted pale blue heaven
Bathing the dust
With a soft, cool whispered breeze
Flowing through brown shedding leaves
Gently falling like a feather
Beneath my shade
I ponder at the day that I awoke from a tiny acorn
And all the years that have passed
With the changing of the seasons,
It seems like an eternity
Birds, squirrels, and other small creatures
Have come and gone,
Leaving a small part of themselves
I’ve seen generations of children grow in years past
With memories of their play with music and laughter
Couples walking side by side holding hands
They’ve climbed my limbs and broke a few
Now I’m rooted with my twisted, gnarled limbs
Waiting for a few more hundred years
Soaking in the sun
Surrounded by painted pale blue heaven
Bathing the dust
With a soft, cool whispered breeze
Flowing through brown shedding leaves
Gently falling like a feather
Beneath my shade
Copyright © Eve Roper
I do not know why, but for the longest time, it has been assumed that I was in the Garden of Eden. I’ve been seen in gardens, orchards, and the yards of many people, but there is no proof that I was ever in Eden. But let’s just assume that I was indeed the tree realistically known as the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.
For heaven’s sake, let’s just assume that I was an innocent bystander, absorbing nutrients from the garden and producing juicy apples. Yes, I was climbed upon by the devil, picked from by the woman, and eaten from by both Adam and Eve. And can anyone imagine how disrespected I felt and taken for granted? Remember, neither the devil nor Eve consulted me about apples from me.
I grew and produced the apple that caused God to be displeased, and forced him to drive them from the garden. Moreover, at least two bites of an apple from my limbs changed the course of history for both nature and all of mankind. I must say that I am not proud of any of this. But you must remember, there was plenty of blame to go around, but when the punishment was handed down, I was not included.
And remember, I have the knowledge and remember very well, because I was there and witnessed literally everything. I even heard the devil lying to Eve, and if I could talk, I would have rebuked the devil, and advised Eve to slowly walk away. I didn’t know where Adam was, but the least I could have done was to call out to him saying, “Beware the devil on my limb!”.
I tell you, I was so sad when I heard God’s voice telling Adam and Eve about their future lives, their limitations and restrictions. Adam was to work hard enough to sweat; and Eve would always have pain when she would give birth to their children.
It was painful for me to listen to, and enough to make even a tough apple tree like myself break down and weep. But the best part was when I heard God tell the devil about his punishment. That’s when I began to rejoice. Wow! I could not shake a leg, but I shook every limb and all the bark on my body.
Copyright © curtis johnson
Away from my heart, how do you think I stand a chance
to live in the furs of my soul? Without my prideful branches
subtle green, you know very well that I can't stand alone on
ceremonial ground, so please,
WATER ME MY FRIEND WITH LOVE AND WATER CLEAN
Inside this forest lays the whispers of a caressing trunk
and birds of paradise come sit by whittled wood to pine
To find my strong n' sturdy pecs, the valor of my girth
is to be found anew, beneath my scented parasol, inhale
and water me my friend with love, and joyful sheen
Around your senses I will dance with lighted foot on ground
and mother earth will fast release the soil of creased-rood
There is no better time for rain, no softer place than here
so join me in the native stance and worship moon to tree
and water me my friend, with love and spirit clean
WATER ME WITH LOVE AND WATER CLEAN
WATER ME WITH LOVE AND SPIRIT CLEAN
WATER ME WITH LOVE AND JOYFUL SHEEN
I am your prideful pine tree, live green and save my dream...
August 22, 2015
Contest: Personification of a tree
Copyright © Mystic Rose
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
Copyright © Beatrice Boyle
It is the awakening.
After long dreamless sleep, my time has come again.
Through endless cycles of night and day, of heat and cold
I have lived throughout history. My birth unremembered
as is my youth. I have lived for a thousand years but too many years
have passed for concern over such trivial matters.
I remember the long decades without water.
I was in my middle years then. A time when almost everything was lost.
This was the time of the great fire. The fire that almost consumed me.
Bright white flames burned down from the heavens and in an instant
scarred my rugged flesh, my beautiful skin blackened in jagged disfigurement.
Many of those around me perished.
I can no longer mourn those who have gone before me.
It has been too long and in that time I have recovered from my injuries and the disease that followed. I am again strong and tower over the
youth that surrounds me, young ones of a hundred years. Many my own. Now I must concentrate on drinking in the nutrients that the earth provides me, as I watch over the shrinking forest.
The past is the past
and the receding winter
is slowly fading away,
now I have felt the long
rays of the sun warming
my limbs once again and I have
awakened to a new world, a world
of renewal, a world of hope. My trunk
is strong and my pollen will soon fill the air
covering the woods in a yellow green dust.
New life will come as acorns sprout, and I will stand silent watch.
Trees Personified Contest-4th Place
Charlotte Jade Puddifoot
Copyright © James Inman
brocade canopy of greens Brown hues
~~~~~~~ a shield fashioned of leafscaled ebullience~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~ to ward the sun, feel the sun, absorb the sun~~~~~~~~~
~~~weather proofed and weather worn~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ i am Impenetrable~~solid~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~a testament to longevity~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~bicep'd branches wrestling all seasons~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~vanquishing time itself~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~this moss'd jacket, I wear~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~a supple veneer~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~my challenge issued~~~
~~~~~~~~~ my arrogance palpable~~~~~~~~~
~~~i am timeless~~~~
~~~~~~~~i am Quercus eternal~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~my seeds hard~~~~~~~
i shed to spill
~far and near~
~~deep I bed~~
thick thighroots, driving earths centre
~~~~~~~~~~ supporting my staunched resolve~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~holding firm to claim my part ~~my history~~~~~~~~~~~
For Trees Personified contest
By Charlotte Jade Puddifoot
Copyright © Ian Guyler
Many men came today to look at the old empty house;
I have been guarding that house for many, many years;
They spent quite some time looking at and touching me;
I heard them saying that the house was being demolished,
And a condo building would take its place. I can't help,
wondering what will become of me.
I started my life as a whirly bird seed in a wild forest,
And soon I grew into a young tree, one of many trees.
I remember them all, spruce, balsam, fir, and birch.
And some maple, like me, that was two hundred years ago.
It was wonderful in the forest; I loved cradling the birds,
And the squirrels and chipmunks were delightful.
The seasons changed me and in winter I stood proudly,
Stripped of my dress; snow and icicles on my branches.
Over time, my tree friends were cut down to make space,
For houses and streets, but I remained standing, waiting.
Soon a lovely house was built, and I have stood over it,
For one hundred years now.
I have seen many families come and go, and I loved them,
And they loved me too. Finally, the house stood derelict.
For years I have been alone with only the birds and squirrels,
And sometimes cats and other creatures as companions.
I love the wind in my branches in the summertime,
And how the fall changes my veined lobed leaves.
Changing them from emerald to red-orange, then yellow,
Oh how the children like collecting them from under me,
And how I adore the feel of the rain and the snow falling;
I even have flowers of green, yellow, orange and red,
In spring, I send millions of seeds twirling in the wind,
And I pray they find their place in the earth.
Do you know that my leaf is the coat of arms of Canada,
And it is on the flag; I am a symbol of strength and endurance,
I am the national tree. But the men approaching do not care;
They do not care that I have stood for two hundred years,
And although, I expect it, the first cut is agony, and I scream;
I am screaming in pain as again and again they cut me.
Until I am lying on the ground, dead.
August 21, 2015
Entered in Scewed VI, sponsor, Rob Carmack
Copyright © Broken Wings
RED MAPLE MEMORIES
Winters have ravaged me
twisted and broken my limbs
scalded me with burning winds
I miss the birds nest
torn from my grasp
by an icy gale
Spring tickles my roots
sets my sap to percolating
awakens my purpose
I long for the mist filled dawn
sweet trickling dew dripping
on my budding blush
Summers have soothed and parched
my crimson canopy, acknowledging
the cool succor of my shade
I miss the boy
his laughter, his imagination
climbing through my history
Fall, ah beautiful fall,
cool breezes reddening my cheeks
readying a soon to fall quilt
I smile at the antics of the squirrels
hear the good-byes of the travelers
stretch, shiver, succumb to sleep
submitted to – Trees Personified Poetry Contest
Copyright © John lawless