These Tree Sun poems are examples of Sun poems about Tree. These are the best examples of Tree Sun poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
Alone atop a hill,
an ornamental willow
dances in the breeze.
Long limbs form a lovely gown
that gracefully sweeps the ground.
Adored by the sun,
the willow is not weeping.
She blooms rosily!
April’s first shower has passed;
for the sun alone, she shines.
The Solo Dancing Ornamental Tree (new title for the sonnet version)
An ornamental tree with willow leaves
upon a promontory stands alone.
In April’s breeze, each limb, cascading, weaves
with fragrance. She is dancing on her own.
I wonder how she came to be at all.
Her roots lie in a solitary place
where few traverse to spy her - lithe and small -
there moving in rain’s aftermath with glee.
In small degrees, the sun has climbed the sky.
No longer pallid, he is smiling down
upon the swaying willow. By and by,
Her graceful limbs shine like a lacquer gown.
Her lovely blooms have opened to expose
The splendid blush of buds with hue light rose.
"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,
I lay myself down,
jagged rocks beneath me
and I welcome it
For it grounds me,
that not everything
is sunlight and blooms
I sink in my darkness
and close my eyes
to dwell in it and drown,
For an eternity,
I am mired with
muck and moss in my mind,
...until I open my eyes
The trees above me
stand tall and proud
in their radial glory,
the sun just
my cold being
Leaves gilt with light
blink back in awe
and I am floored,
blanketed by warmth
of hushed spirits
tell their tales
of growth and survival,
of yearning for
of their struggle
to catch a glimpse
feeding off from it,
in order to
give back to others
some of them stumble
yet most of them
I am humbled.
I am awed.
Yes, the canopy
gave me shade,
from the light,
I look up again
that the tiniest
pinholes of hope exist,
reaching deep within...
that set off
a chain reaction
--June 11-12 (2011)
in the sun
The skin became the bark of a tree
the soul turning to brittle scars
for uncaring worlds to see.
is a pile of
old owl bones
sewn into banks of midnight creeks...
even the plump, over ripened ones
no longer look at me...
but if their car was desert flat,
their oil grim reaper black
they'd paint a wormy, water colored smile...
slide it through my barbed wired heart
so long as I could spin the jack...
so I spin it until their potholes turn to satin-
in the sun
the mind has smoothed over
like pebbles in Saturn rings..
a forgotten spice in the conversation of life
an hour later the word snuggles up to me
Tomorrow or forever( which ever comes first),
I'll stay wrapped inside
till my skin turns back to ivory
to an easter egg yesterday
to a time of bouncing ball and spinning jack,
when the mind was a great silky nest...
the face a flowered meadow place
where watercolors swirled all day,
the heartworms kept at bay.
I'll stay hidden within the briar,
till the jewels of memories sooth
every scar - every stripe,
the molten knots of cruelty,
till the sweetened fruit reclaims the tree.
until then only my curtains breathe...
...stayed in the sun
Walking by the river.
It was that kind of day
With the Spring Sun soft and warm
There was a kind of energy
That moved within my form
I could have walked the whole day long
As I felt me, natures pull
Oh Lord those river trails are beautiful.
I passed a group of roos
Who were grazing by the river
Some Parrots screeched above my head
And set my heart a quiver
And as those creatures gave their calls
A Kookaburra laughed
Oh how I love to walk that river path.
It was that kind of day
That you’d like to last for years
With the country air rich in my lungs
And my mind all calm and clear
I could have walked until I dropped
Along that river trail
Feeling good and living in the now.
16 September 2004
I know its the summer time because of how naturally
Your beauty compliments the caress of a summer breeze
As I watch the world from beneath a shady tree
I take in the delightful comfort of everything I see
But in the same breath I am holding up my hands
Lord will you please give me back the things I no longer have
They are even more a part of me now that they are gone
As the sun falls below where the horizon is still holding on
Somewhere between the falling light and a star lit night
Is a dream that last forever and will never say goodbye
As the wind gently blows through the brush and shakes the leaves
It begins to hum a melody that I want to sing
At that very moment I smile for all the joy I have
Its so uplifting for me to see melancholy dance
Soon the morning sun will rise and capture my eyes
As I watch the hand of God paint a brand new sky
With every stroke of color I swallow all my pride
And I find a new place to dream of endless times
If I should ever get to the place I left my broken heart
Only then will I believe this brand new day will start
Again Im reminded of why my heart beats so restlessly
Only the speed of thought and my soul beneath this tree
Stuck like glue to the branches are snowflakes
Vibrantly white, glowing, gives more than takes
The sun comes down into a reflection
Bright shining light from its destination
Brilliantly the sun tries to melt the snow
The freezing temperature makes it slow
The sight so bright leaves a lasting image
One that will sure bestow on this visage
The tree's covered in white from head to toe
Holding firm with all its might, that of snow
Creating the perfect scene before me
Matching joy in my heart by what I see
Earth's become a heavenly place of rest
Looking like beauty has produced the best
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.
The grandeur of a majestic mountain
standing proud against the horizon
with its snow-capped peak
enveloped in fleecy white clouds
against a clear azure blue sky
The glorious majesty of a stately sequoia
towering above the surrounding vegetation
being the largest living thing on earth
its massive trunk over thirty feet wide
with its gnarled rugged beauty
The wondrous artistry of the setting sun
edging the darkened clouds with silver linings
and painting the evening sky
in brilliant colours of the rainbow
mirrored on the ocean's surface below
The awesome power of a thunderstorm at night
with jagged bolts of lightning
that split the darkness
and light up the surroundings
with blinding dazzling intensity
The thunderous roar of a mighty waterfall
cascading down in huge torrents of liquid fury
smashing into the water below
creating mists of water droplets
that transform the sunlight into a rainbow
The Tree and I
I met a tree today while walking under cloud ridden skies. She was a young oak past her sapling age. Her bare branches, still in winters hold, stood stark against an evergreen backdrop. I felt her loneliness seep into my being, so I slipped over and gave her a hug. I whispered to her, “I know lonely too”, and heard an audible sigh within her wind swept branches.
a young oak
stands bare in winter's keeping---
brown carpeted ground
After a length of time, undetermined, I slid to the ground and leaned against her trunk. I was content to keep her company for a short time on such a dreary day. Nowhere else did I need to be. No one else did I need to see. So, I leaned my head gently against her rough bark and as we both shared a quiet moment of contemplations.
a woman sits
at the base of a tree---
cloud laden sky
Eventually I felt the cold and damp seeping into my skin and I shivered. The young oak felt this and spoke to the breeze in her highest limbs. She asked it to blow the clouds from the face of the sun so that we could both enjoy the warm rays… and so it was that we were both sun kissed on this early morning day.
away from the sun---
a girl smiles
This soon became a daily ritual, loneliness drifting away with each visit. She listened to me, as I listened to her, and time flew more quickly by. Spring arrived before we knew it as the young oak beamed with her new buds. It seemed our visits now became less lonely, filled as we were with the awakening of Mother Earth.
on a young oak---
I shared with her and her with me, throughout the winter’s days. We laughed together and wept together during the longest of lackluster days. A friendship formed of kindred spirits that helped chase the blues away. With spring’s awakening, our confidence gaining, we rejoice in the birth of each new day.
returns to the lawn---
All Rights Reserved @ Debra Squyres 2013
Form: haibun (mixture of prose and haiku)
It happens every year around this time.
The winds starts to pick-up and change from a warm westerly direction, to the chill of the Canadian north breezes that ice over windows on the inside.
It seems, that these old bones can tell, as well as these old eyes, when the trees start whistling a-bit
to the chilly Wyoming skies.
But the last great photo of natures camera, before the howling of winter is at our steps.
Is the Wyoming colors of fall, that nature delivers to us.
Now it's nearly impossible to describe, what nature has spent eons learning to do right.
Blazing the colors from green to orange in the aspen groves of a mountain morn.
The cottonwoods shimmer their hints of tarnished bronze and copper leaves,
it seems damn near ridiculous, to try and describe these.
One can't even come close to drawing a picture with words, to the chaotic beauty of a Currant bush,
wrapped in buffalo berries that seem to defy gravity, hanging there all by themselves.
Not to mention the golden coat of a milkweed plant, overflowing seeds that glisten rainbow colors in the light.
It just wouldn't be describable, it couldn't be imagined in words,
The colors of fall, my eyes have heard.