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Tree Family Poems | Tree Poems About Family

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Details | Narrative | |

The Saddest Christmas I Remember

Love is a season
And holidays mark the seasons, like signs in the road
Reflecting the bumps in our journey, but showing us a way back home...

Sixteen, in pajamas, watching the rain pelt down
It was long past midnight, Christmas eve
Twinkling lights on one house across the road, stared back at me
It was if they were trying to fill our void with color
The block was filled with a hundred black windows
And the blackness somehow seemed more appropriate  
There was no Christmas tree in our house this year
I suppose Dad felt it was too soon, or perhaps just the effort to get through each day
                                                                            had taken all the strength he had...
We had stayed up and watched a Christmas program together...
It was Perry Como, I think....somehow I remember how he sang "Ava Maria"...

My brother had come home from the Air Force earlier that week
He had helped bring us a bit of cheer....at least for awhile...
but he had been called back to duty, and I missed him terribly...

The house was silent after Dad had gone to bed
I wasn't sleepy....and it was lonely looking out at the cold night
It seemed the whole world was sleeping, 
                                 getting ready for the sun to shine on Christmas morning...

I started to head for bed, but noticed a light had been left on in the front coat closet
I opened the door, and looking up, to pull the chain, I noticed the box...
   The little box that kept the sugar cube house
It was one that Mom and I had made together when I was 8 years old... 
         Little sugar cubes stacked into walls and a roof, glued together with red frosting.
We had copied one out of her Ladies' Home Journal....surrounding it with little trees, and 
people skating on a mirror for a pond, things we had found at the 5 and 10 cent store
Carefully packed away last year, on Mom's last Christmas....

Throughout the night, I sat in the dimness of the house, laying out the sugary scene on the 
fireplace mantel....as Mom would have done .

When the freckled morning moved into day...
I woke on the sofa...Dad sitting next to me.  He had covered me with a warm blanket.
He held me and we cried together.
After breakfast....he disappeared outside, and soon came in carrying a sorry looking branch 
from our old evergreen tree.
We decorated that bedraggled branch...it wasn't the most beautiful tree we had ever had
But it brought Christmas back to my family...


For Constance La France's contest "Your Saddest Christmas Ever"
Carrie Richards


Details | Free verse | |

Our Holiday Home

Christmas boxes full of memories down from the attic they come
The house was so quiet but...now everyone starts to hum
A wonderful feeling being overcome by holiday cheer
Welcome to our holiday home at this special time of the year

Boxes and boxes to go through finding something broken is my fear
Welcome to our holiday home at this special time of the year
Here come the guys with their fresh cut tree
It will look beautiful just you wait and see

Our beautiful picture of Jesus forever hangs on our wall
The tree must set just right so the light on top upon Jesus will fall
Christmas is about our dear Savior in our home is quite clear
Welcome to our holiday home at this special time of the year

As the tree is decorated we talk of past Christmases and our love
ones now passed on
We find peace being with each other and happy to know we have
kept one another from becoming withdrawn
A toast of cheer we raise to those in heaven and feel them so near
Welcome to our holiday home at this special time of the year

It is a joy to come together with loved ones we hold so dear
Welcome to our holiday home at this special time of the year
A family less fortunate then us we will visit this Christmas Eve
Spreading joy and love to the family and seeing their smiles as
they once again in our Lord believe

Christmas day does arrive...a beautiful day to which we thank 
our Lord above
The day or our dear Savior's birth whom without we would never 
have love
We sit at our table and say pray before we have our meal with
loved ones we hold so near
Welcome to our holiday home at this special time of the year

Written By: Carol Brown
Written for: Holiday Hearth Contest
Sponsor: Linda-Marie
1st Place Winner


Entry for P.D.'s Best Holiday Poem Contest
4th Place


Details | Lyric | |

Autumn, Lit.Op.3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-oOo-


Details | Free verse | |

Work

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


©Demand4poetry
21 February 2013


Details | Quatrain | |

The Innocence of Youth

To hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature,
embracing truth as only reflection can hold.
While our mind concocts fastidious pleasure,
in search of mottled excuses bent to unfold.

Some threaten openly, words of censure,
hurled against the family tree displayed therein.
Yet which innocent, casts with stoic composure,
a stone of malicious word for the game to begin.

While the tree of life muddles fate in quiet solitude.
Its restless soul begging for optimistic pleasure,
It thinks its time before the mirror, but an interlude,
when in fact, the angel Gabriel takes his measure.

Only the tree of knowledge, cannot be maligned.
Within the face of it, read this significant truth.
From a reflection, the soul of man, you will not find,
only the sweet, sweet face, of innocence of youth.

© Apr 17 2011 Charles Henderson 
for Constance "the tree" contest
a family tree, tree of life, tree of knowledge


Details | Free verse | |

Christmas Merriment

Snowflakes falling, falling all night
My pine tree adorned, now illuminating under snow
I brush and brush off, unveiling Christmas twinkling lights
Giving the white ground a colorful glow
An appearance of a Hallmark card, I must say
My children gather around the tree in merriment 
Then one by one they form fluffy snowballs
Laughing mischievously they begin to throw them at me
Well you can guess what happens next
Yep, before I was done they are covered in white
Red face and cold we all go indoors for the night
In front of the fireplace tired, beginning to warm
We look at each other and started to grin
Deep belly-laughs replaces the grins
You can't have enough of a good thing


For Nathan's "Christmas Joy" contest


Details | Ballad | |

The Old Oak Tree

In a meadow by the stream there stood a big oak tree
and now I think of all the things that tree has meant to me

The old tire swing hung from a limb was put up by our dad
and all day long us kids would play and oh' what fun we had

In the shade of that old tree whose limbs are now bent low
is where I met my one true love so many years ago

Was where I got my very first kiss under that old tree
and that old oak stood right there smiling down at me

We are all grown up now but how we loved that old tree
a place of refuge for us all a place where we were free

We all went back the other day to see just one more time
that beautiful tall old oak tree for ever etched in our mind 





Details | Kyrielle | |

Santa Mommy

My nose is getting red like Santa’s perhaps I’ll grow a beard
Welcome to my holiday home at this special time of year
I’ve hidden all the wrapped up boxes and all the clutters cleared
My son is on the air-o-plane he is getting VERY, very near!

Got the balsam wreathes up from Big Y and hung them on the doors
Welcome to my holiday home at this special time of year
Go pick a pretty bulb out from the boxes on the floor
and set it out at ready for the big tree will soon appear.

Soon I’ll drive to JFK to get the MAN that big ole kid
Welcome to my holiday home at this special time of year
If I had a bright red sleigh I’d get there fast like Santa did,
avoiding all the Yuletide traffic, why yes, I’d steer right clear.

With my red nose and a borrowed beard, red hat and all
Welcome to my holiday home at this special time of year
I’d shift the pillow in my drawers and the crowd would be appalled
You’d see security winking “There’s a coo-coo over here!”

They’d let me through with no pat down, no scan of Santa’s tummy
Welcome to my holiday home at this special time of year
I’d shout it to the customs guards “It’s just HIS loony Mummy!”
I need him to set up the pine tree before he disappears.

His friends have called their all waiting there is more of them than me 
Welcome to my holiday home at this special time of year
One of the few times I see that boy by time and spaces decree
I’ll call them all to gather for the trimmings of yesteryear.


Details | I do not know? | |

The Barren Fig Tree

(God's Patience with Sinners / Final Judgment) LK 13:6-9 And he told them this parable: "There once was a person who had a fig tree planted in his orchard, and when he came in search of fruit on it but found none, he said to the gardener, 'For three years now I have come in search of fruit on this fig tree but have found none. (So) cut it down. Why should it exhaust the soil?' He said to him in reply, 'Sir, leave it for this year also, and I shall cultivate the ground around it and fertilize it; it may bear fruit in the future. If not you can cut it down.' Reflection People make mistakes Fig tree is like a woman scheduled for abortion President Obama mandate is to take care of them Leave it for this year It will develop and bear fruit in the future


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 | Rhyme | |

The Magic Tree

The Magic Tree


			The magic tree
			It calls to me
			It brings me whispers of things to be,
			Voices of the past pass through the leaves
			Speaking to me of things gone by,
			I hear the voices of the ones I loved,
			Telling me of their enduring love,
			How they watch over me from where they are,
			Enabling my dreams to all come true,
			The magic tree takes it time to grow,
			Of the world’s mysteries it does know,
			It gives out wishes, one, two and three,
			When the wind blows,
			The magic tree,
			Calls out to me,
			It sends me love, warmth and the music of life,
			It gathers me into its branches,
			And hugs me tight,
			The magic tree,
			It calls to me.

			Celine Rose Mariotti


Details | Quatrain | |

In Heartwood Forrest

Subtle comes the mourning
In light laced with night
Like concentric circles forming
In the Forrest's biography of life

For children grow in truth like trees
It's lesson is wisdom's offering
Spiral layer of night and day
Concealed an annual weathering

In heartwood forest you were raised
By its protection you survived
Though it is dead this central wood
At your core does it reside

Tiny saplings like newborn cries
Sunlight tapping your tender leaves
Tears turned sugar transformed you thrive
For the sweet lifeblood you need

When something dies it's natural
Of sorrow to be prone
I'll follow the path of your tears your anchor
Through the storm I'll not leave you alone

For I am your taproot in rocky soil
I'll hold you secure as you grow
Take your tears and turn them sugar
Photosynthesis of life to bestow

Your Daddy was your heartwood
I know you mourn at his stone
Though Mommies leaves dawn new colors
I'll teach you to grow your own 

For when he died your sapwood 
With tears like resin filled
For from his bedded seed you came
A new tree with heartwood instilled

Under my branches my son you are planted
And Daddy's new home is our sky
Together we will shade you and light your way
Stretching my roots to hold yours while you cry

Someday when life's rings they gather
Hidden under your fortress of bark
You'll know the storms I too have weathered 
In this silent breaking of my heart




Details | Free verse | |

My Family Tree

My family tree grew Mount Calvary

As my heavenly Father looked on, they crucified his only son

They pierced his side and his precious blood began to flow

In the shadow of the cross my family tree began to grow

He adopted me as one of his own and made me heir to a kingdom

that someday I will call home

Even now I am beginning to see the Father in me

His royal blood now flows through my veins,

For I’m a blood bought child of the king

Now each time I trace my family tree it always leads me

 back to Mount Calvary.


Details | Rhyme | |

track 18

thanks for the tea, heres something about me
nothing beats poetry, sitting underneath a tree
thankin' my family for a strong identity
people watching cause its free, beauty in the scene
has me staring with a cheese, a smile at what i see
possibly a dream,  caught up mentally 
imagining a few things, with this human being
who has the sweetest energy, soulfood like collard greens
all fools falling means I'm really dumber than I seem
being intelligent isn't just from memory
its handling impermanence light and sensibly
and lady I'm feeling your sultry melodies
we'd be crowded if its three, sit and be my company
must be a chemistry major cause the reactions meant to be
the love we can achieve, is safe from any thieves
 hold em from my queen, hearts tucked into my sleeve


Details | Rhyme | |

Family Tree

Our Family Tree extends from deep roots and long branches.
Some of our kinsmen grow fast Fruit Trees just in case the
Harvest becomes romantic.
Others imitate Olive Trees as they Stand for the Emblem of Peace
And youngsters try to Extinguish Bushfires for some of their
Mistakes can’t cease.
Some of our Willows weep as a Pine Tree in the Land; silent 
Dripping Tears.
The Scornful have become Forsaken like an Emptiness in the Palm 
Of your hand.
A majority of us found shade underneath the Yellow Birch Tree
And when we decided to depart the Peaches reaped a Golden Jubilee.
Our Forefathers have become successful being planted in a good
And solid ground.
So the next time you want to look up my Ancestors just head for
The nearest Forest right here in Town..


Details | Lyric | |

Christmas Through July

Christmas Through July

Christmas is such a grand time of the year!
People are happy joy shows everywhere. 
Gifts of love arrive from both far and near.
Scents of the season permeate the night air.

Remembering the Savior's love so grand.
Families hang lights, such a beautiful sight.
Decorations displayed across the land.
Many surprises are shared Christmas night.
 
January came but the tree remained.
Celebrating my child's birthday the same.
Just like Jesus, her happiness sustained.
Each year's tradition when her birthday came.

Year round loving was about to be taught.
Decorations of hearts and shiny red balls
Replaced the angels that Christmas had brought.
February feelings Christ's love did recall.

In March, the tree was adorned with shamrocks.
Paper-mâché nuggets sparkled in gold.
Children and laughter sang around the clock.
Smiles, like at Christmas, were great to behold.

April was spring pretty flowers were hung.
It took a lot of work, but was it still fun.
We at play felt pure joy, free and young.
One fun filled plan to teach love, begun.

May decorations, the best, I recall.
Mother's day cards, painted hands, paper plates.
A trip to the attic was fun for all.
While cherishing the loves childhood creates.

Christmas in June on a new marriage day
Downstairs jam-packed squeezed in each wedding guest.
Rained out at the park, they saw our display.
Christmas year round knew love at its best.

July 30th past, the flags were still hung.
Patriotism shown, honored with rare style.
Christmas in July with a new day sung.
We took down the tree cherishing each smile.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  This lyric poem written in quatrain format is a true story that expresses my feelings about 
showing love year round…not just in December.  


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 | Blank verse | |

whispers of Love

The Whisper of Love
The mild spring wind whispered: I love you and stroked 
my face… but then it clouded over the wind hoarsely 
shouted: I love you. I fled indoors but it howled nonstop 
by the French window: I love you, and I held my hands 
against ears as not hear.

Angrily I hollered back: go away I never cared for you, 
your obsessive love is too much to bear, strangling me.  
But I tell not truth, sweet Marilyn, I love you more now 
than before; the wind became a mild zephyr and said: 
I know, I know my darling.

The almond tree said: I thought it was me you loved, 
my flowers you admire. But you are deflowered now.    
I said. This is the rudest thing I ever heard said the oak 
and shook it crown so sadly that a crow family fell out.
and cawed crossly at me.

Don´t you get I said I love you all you´re nature the air 
that I breathe the food I eat and the grass I walk on.
But the olive tree spoilt my words by pretentiously 
saying: one, who loves all, loves no one, and eastward 
the crow family flew. 
     


Details | I do not know? | |

Would It Make You Change

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


Details | I do not know? | |

gospel of st matthew

To give you more of this thought… Gospel according to St. Matthew 7:16 – 7:20... To break down the Gospel for something to exercise your thoughts and feed your minds 7:16 By their fruits you will know them. Do people pick grapes from thorn bushes, or figs from thistles? 7:17 Just so, every good tree bears good fruit, and a rotten tree bears bad fruit. 7:18 A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, nor can a rotten tree bear good fruit. 7:19 Every tree that does not bear good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire. 7:20 So by their fruits you will know them. Reflection: I think, it is very rare to find a fruit that disobey the tree. A fruit however, may disobey the tree if and only if the fruit listens to the voice of God. J.


Details | Quatrain | |

THE LONESOME FLUTE PLAYER

Sitting by a moss-covered tree illuminated by sunlight at three,
he plays the very song that his anscestors played yesterday;
remembering what the peaceful and wild land was and will be...
by accepting the fact that his tomorrow is decided by destiny.


He can spend an entire afternoon playing a hand-made flute color chestnut,
as every breeze-lulled maple tree seem to vanish in the increasing, grey fog;
and if his music with shrilling, melodic notes is a devise to find his stranded dog,
he will have the best friend to guide him safely home through beams of twilight. 


Play, handsome warrior the melody you forefathers played on those efflorescent days
underneath the same oak tree to celebrate their free manhood;
and resembling them with long hair and piercing, dreaming eyes,
you don't expect that intruders from other lands would compromise your happiness.


Foxes, grizzly bears, coyotes and buffaloes hear your music and come around to peek:
they know that you wouldn't hurt them and they wonder who's the Great Spirit;
little they suspect that they will be hunted down by the new-comers from the East;
be their friend, warrior...promise them protection when they'll encounter the Beast. 


All that you behold today, may be gone tomorrow making you weep,
grasslands and prairies will tun into towns and cities to make way for greed;
and blood will flow abundantly on meadows where only wildflowers grew...
devastation everywhere with mother's screams by red rivers not so blue.


You must have had dreams of what was coming with a spectacle so gruesome,
take heart...your tomorrow is decided by destiny, pray that you won't be harmed;
continue playing your flute by remembering everything that you deeply loved,
and if you'll die fighting heartless men, I'll remember that look so lonesome.


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 | 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 | Rhyme | |

Victorian Christmas Eve

There is happy ado on the old farmstead as Yuletide draws nigh.
Wondrous things to savor as gales blow and snow begins to fly!
The tempest rages for days - they will surely be snowbound,
But a blazing fire warms the old home - love and cheer abound!

Since early in July Pa has had his eye on a special evergreen tree.
It now graces the parlor and they dance about it with glee!
Brightly lit candles adorn branches of the perfectly shaped fir.
'Neath lies the Babe - The Magi offering frankincense, gold and myrrh.

The boys have hefted armloads of wood from the ash tree grove,
For Ma and the girls to cook delectable fare on the wood-burning stove!
Titillating aromas waft from room to room in the gracious old house,
From the roasting goose, venison and tender prairie grouse!

Rusty the dog and Simba the cat lie snuggling near the fire.
The family gathers 'round the pump organ for an impromptu choir.
Bellowing off-key, Pa leads them in carols, all in spirited mirth,
And later by the hearth they hear Pa read about the Savior's Birth!

The ancient grandfather clock tolls ten - the kids are shooed to bed.
Ma and Pa place presents 'neath the tree in old Santa's stead!
With a twinkle in his eyes, Pa steals a kiss 'neath the mistletoe!
The excited kids scarcely snooze listening for Santa's Ho! Ho! Ho!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved


Details | Rhyme | |

Our Christmas Tree

Our Christmas tree


After we were married and Christmas would come near,
  We would go buy a tree and my wife would dress it with care. 
All through the holidays it stood straight and tall,
  After the holidays I would drag it out through the hall.
I would drag it through the hall and down the stairs,
  Balls and lights breaking all the way, but who cares.
My wife would ask, are you crazy,
  I would say no this way was easy and I was just lazy.
Year after year buying a new tree, new lights and balls,
   End of the season and there I go dragging the tree through the halls.
When we moved to our own home we had a tree for Christmas day,
  End of the season I opened the door and out went the tree the same old way.
My wife and daughters said I was crazy and no more,
  No more will a tree go out the door.
The next year there was a fake tree on Christmas day,
  After the season they told me to keep away.
The family would say how crazy and about the extra money,
  My only thought that it was funny.
So every Christmas stands a fake tree,
  No more trees out the door by me.  


Details | Narrative | |

Branches of Family

Young and sprouting like a twig, Branches to come to observe when big. From roots of parent trees long ago, The families begin to grow. Siblings blossom from the branch I'm on, With cousin branches a-blooming along. Memorable times with them together Seem to end as life changes like the weather. Branches separate to a new direction, With a mate for a branch of creation. Some family removed as the Lord hath planned, From our tree to place in His hands. Over my shoulder, my children branching out, I was getting older, for sure, no doubt. A desire to keep the tree from falling apart, As branches get higher, a reunion must start. So happy inside as family branches attend, A tree's gentle glide swaying in the wind. I'll be happy knowing when I leave the tree, It'll keep growing--the Branches of Family! Florence McMillian (Flo)


Details | Narrative | |

Old Saint Nick

 In her dreams she is visited by old Saint Nick
 He is here to tell her the miraculous story of Christ
 The Star of David was the angel upon the tree of life

 Her papa was a little out of sort as he strung the Christmas lights
 Her mama was slightly tore up as she hung the cardboard reindeer just right
 Grandma was real sick and it was starting to show
 Their old "hand-me-down" house was drafty and cold

 In her dreams she is visited by old Saint Nick
 He is here to tell her the miraculous story of Christ
 The Star of David was the angel upon the tree of life

 For years they had all avoided this place
 Yet a tear stung her eye as forgiving smiles spread across their eager faces
 Christ was born upon this day for a reason
 Come as you are being the ultimate season

 In her dreams she is visited by old Saint Nick
 He is here to tell her the miraculous story of Christ
 The Star of David was the angel upon the tree of life

 She cares not for eggnog and mistle toe
 All she asks is that the love may show
 For Christ lives on in our open hearts 
 Let this day mend where we have drifted apart

 In her dreams she is visited by old Saint Nick
 He is here to tell her the miraculous story of Christ
 The Star of David was the angel upon the tree of life

 She awakes from her dream and runs to sit beside the tree
 Her eyes gleam and this is all she can see
 Old Saint Nick has spread the story of Christ
 She smiles as as Christmas light shines on the tree of life


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 | Quintain (English) | |

All The Trees

All the trees I knew are gone.
Removed by fear and greed.
No longer to sing a song,
As wind blows through their leaves.
Never again to drop a seed.

The trees of our childhood delight
Where I carved her name, like we'd never part.
Where we camped under at night,
or cried with a broken heart.
Where plans were made for a new start.

The old tree house broke into bits.
The tree where you fell and split your head.
Where long gone grandpa cut a switch,
Under which we gathered, and she said,
"I Do".  And followed where ever he led.


Details | Couplet | |

Still Connected

From planted seeds, trees have grown.
My hope, regards this scene, is to remind you of home.

Rooted and grounded have the trees come to be.
From different forests, though, are both you and me.

Yet, like one tree that grows and bares many branches:
Rather northward, to the south, eastward, or to the west;

And no matter where fruits from a tree are selected.
I want you to know we're still connected.


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 | Narrative | |

Glowing Delight

Asked by a husband, each year before November ends.
His wife sits waiting, to see the tree upon the hill.
Messages of waiting, upon the first night, she sends.
To the building, that displays a tree, so still.

Each year, a tree lit on an, November night
She patiently waits at first, with anticipation growing.
Looking out her window, she gazes upon one delight.
This is a sign; Christmas is near as this tree is glowing.

He tells me she is watching, upon the mark of twilight.
He says it brings joy to her heart and tears to eyes.
To see the giant tree adorned, in brilliant color of white.
Truly a scene of beauty, which floats below the skies,

This tradition, handed down, before nineteen forties.
Vividly seen for miles, marking the seasons cheer,
Tree of lights that adorn a building rooftop with ease,
We all see this view, admiring, until the New Year. 


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 | I do not know? | |

MY FAMILY

My family is the world to me. my family is a lovely tree.
--a tree with many branches, a tree that will take many chances.
a tree of hope; that will always be my support. a tree that will disagree, but always remain a 
family. a tree that will grow stronger as the years grow longer. i will always be a part of that 
family tree. until i see the limbs break free. a family that prays together will stay together. 
my family will be by my side as i take big strides. my family will be there when no one else 
will cares. thank god for my family, for without them, we are twigs standing alone.


Details | Free verse | |

Family Tree Warning

When searching among the branches 
of your family tree 
Be prepared for the scrapes and thorns 
you'll get along the way 
Your sure to find some funny stories 
mixed in with all the nuts 
But lies and secrets will come seeping 
up as sap from the roots 
Don't take everything your told 
by others at face value 
They have their own private splinters 
buried deep in the shadows 
Delve deep into the inner branches 
and poke among the leaves 
For bitter sweet is the fruit 
of the family tree 


Details | Rhyme | |

The Magic Tree

The Magic Tree


			The magic tree
			It calls to me
			It brings me whispers of things to be,
			Voices of the past pass through the leaves
			Speaking to me of things gone by,
			I hear the voices of the ones I loved,
			Telling me of their enduring love,
			How they watch over me from where they are,
			Enabling my dreams to all come true,
			The magic tree takes it time to grow,
			Of the world’s mysteries it does know,
			It gives out wishes, one, two and three,
			When the wind blows,
			The magic tree,
			Calls out to me,
			It sends me love, warmth and the music of life,
			It gathers me into its branches,
			And hugs me tight,
			The magic tree,
			It calls to me.

			Celine Rose Mariotti


Details | Free verse | |

Elastic Families

In this wonky day and time,
this favored temperate clime
dares suggest wisdom's course
espouse prevalent societal force.*

Family tree boundaries,
stretched by current modes
like an old elastic band,
accept new branches
hung precariously 
on the old sturdy trunk.

Old Limbs are newly bushed
with leaves bearing prefixes
with measuring sounds;
third, adopted, step, half -
or followed by modifiers; 
in-law, live-in, significant other.

Partners and lovers 
get tied on with slippery ribbons,
names entered in a ledger, 
but not with permanent ink.

Disjointed families, add-ons, 
and second family births 
leave our children wondering
to whom they belong.

*Adulterated quote from “A Traitor to Memory”
by Susan Elizabeth George, Published in 2001,
Bantam Books, a Div. of Random House, Inc.
            Top of Page 87 


Details | I do not know? | |

My Holiday

The Holiday is almost here because:
I hear the sound of bells ringing for needy kids.
Listen at the tussle and bussle in crowded malls.
People cussing and fussing about their so called in-laws.
While the kids is a pouting about their letters to Santa Claus.
The family is decorating our tree with old fruit looms oops... I meant heirlooms.
So lets break out the eggnog to toast the decking of halls in our home.
With granny in the kitchen baking a yule-tide-log.
Look out here comes the so called in-laws.
Carrying the same old fruit cake we gave them last  year.
Put on a smile and open the door to wish them Happy Holidays with gritting teeth.
As I thank the in-laws for the fruit cake that I take straight to toss out the back door.
Lets sit down to the table to eat our Holiday feast that I slaved on all week.
Over to the tree we go to exchange gifts that we really don't want because its 
something we'll never use.
To your family from ours we wish you Happy Holidays even though were looney 
as hell.


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? | |

The Perfect Place

The perfect place is full of laughter
hopes and dreams while poeple get happier
At the top of as hill  is an apple tree 
on one of the branches is a wooden swin
From top to bottom
a mudslide you'll see
into a pond with frogs and with geese
It's crystal clear blue with a border of green
with lilly pads and ducks happily swimming
Green fields of flowers cover the land
Marigolds, Roses, Lillies and aren't they grand
the land is bordered by forests with animals and trees
monkey's, gorrilla's, kangaroo's, and chimpanzee's
Up in the biggest tree of them all there is a home
Of a family not big nor small


Details | Free verse | |

Trees I Have Known

I loved those trees, 
limbs draped in plump wild grapes, 
bursting with flavor on my tongue, 
while juice stained my fingers.
	
Tall cottonwoods shadowed 
the creek where we splashed—Sis,
brother, and I—and a giant sycamore 
shaded Granddad's spring. We slaked
our thirst from the granite dipper 
hung on a nail he'd hammered
into its trunk at kid level.

We watched water belch like corn, 
rattling a popper lid, and ripple 
over rocks in the streambed, 
where minnows and crawfish 
hid from prying fingers.

Hawk-eyed, we scouted 
gnarled branches in the orchard 
for ripening fruit, luscious and tangy, 
spurting juice to drip off elbows.

Hazelnut bushes flourished
by the back fence; black walnut trees 
shaded Grandmother's back porch. 
Our uncles helped burst crack-jaw shells 
with hand-held rocks on the stone slabs 
stretching toward the gate.

I do not envy the children 
whose play-field offers brick and concrete,
severe and naked, whose only fruit
blows down alleys and into streets, 
as the refuse of city dwelling.


Details | Free verse | |

Family Tree

Our family tree will never stop growing…our faith and comfort will never crumble
Love grows here…so have no fear—God is near
My family, though packed up with pride and low self-esteem, still appears humble
Mirth produces joy and our hope gives birth to cheer

God is our Father; who could play this role as skillfully? Who, other than God, created the world so genuinely?
Love comes from He…so scare away the anxiety—God will grant us ecstasy
My family, though packed up with hope and despair, cherishes my soul with glee
Rebirth and life comes from He and our faith should draw near to thee

"i love you sweet boy..we will have fun this summer and be a close and godly family..nighty nit my light"
This summer, I am positive that we will be a close and godly family
But we must be lights of the world…and we must be willing to finish that race of hardships to earn His dignity
By all means, we will have an enjoyable break without paying a fee
But we must be God’s faithful followers…and we must be prepared to follow our Shepherd who is the key

Of never-ending faith and comfort, nourishing us abundantly
He still exists…He unravels the insanity
Of this world and set us free from blasphemy
Watching over us with pure vitality

Give us Your water
Don’t leave us in the gutter
Listen to the words we mutter

I pray that our family tree will look up to you devotedly


Details | Free verse | |

There was six

It wasn’t until this evening while I was sitting
in the hospital lobby watching blood pour from 
underneath my chair from the women behind me
waiting for my name to be murmured over the loud speaker
that I witnessed the depths our society is willing to go.

Directly across from me was Gertrude, I don’t think
that was her real name, but that’s what I called her Cyclops pouch 
that was playing peek-a-boo with the 5 month old child bouncing 
on her knee. The mother’s arms (if you could call her that) were 
as holy as a tree after a woodpecker has established residency 
and as blue as the vessels that carry blood to her heart. Maybe 
the doctors will show her how to properly insert a needle when 
she goes behind the curtain wall. 

To my left were the Espinoza’s, a family of five,
maybe six, there was a boy playing in the parking garage by a van
with a rock, he was waving it around like a wand.
The wife was the one having problems, she does not remember
them, even if she did, she couldn’t say them.
It was as if I was watching a 2 year old communicate with no teeth desperately trying to 
pronounce words that start with “S” or “F” 
At least she was trying. 
They couldn’t find their insurance card, she couldn’t 
remember where she put it. She looked at her translator for assistance but 
he was to busy rocking their child to sleep. 

In the corner were the Muses, it did not seem like there was 
anything wrong, as if their son or daughter dropped them off
hoping for something to happen to inherit the family fortune. 
I think they were really there to oversee the moral of the lobby, contracted out by the hospital staff to amuse 
and entertain frustrated numbers,
because that’s all we are, numbers on a chart board, names on a wristband, like cattle tagged by the ear. 
Jean was the older one; she had toes like crochet hooks, crossing over and looped,
Gladdys was younger, wearing a green jumpsuit with a gold Greek Key belt,
she looked like a dried out Christmas tree on the street leaning beside the trash cans after New Years. 

It was in the corner of my eye that I saw 
a sheer bit of hope for our World. Jean leaned over to the father, 
slipped money between the paint on his hands 
and the babies bottom and said,
	You have a beautiful family.


Details | Bio | |

rose rosy

 the start tag 




 

By the 
Chinese 
poet 
fengwenshu 


My space 's small emperaror-my son-

As a Roseate for endless routh, 

When unborn my son, 

Lived in lofly belly of a flowering tree of dreaming.

And fire phoenix fly, like one single moonlight_azure, 

In phoenix's body breed, 

In rosy rose had

Vomit and lent to the nigths, hills, 

Rivers, grasss, groves, 

And greatures.her sweetly joy and

Fire of love, 

I sangs upon my son, with words of cloud_white and, 

Or words of green water of flows, 

Day after day, month after month, 

And i made meselves a little cicada, 

In apparel, sometimd, 

I being katydid, a skirt_green, sometime, 

I made meselves a orchid, 

In white apparel, sometime, 

I turns a petty siklworm, 

In white robe, simetime, 

I into Nature 's greatures, 

To body of flowering tree of dreaming flew, 

As if a dragonfly, came to dim bamboos, 

Of summer, 
And my firegod_minor me sings

Or told, for my fairgod_ minor

Being lonely, stir and peaceless, 

I become one single flower's sweetly, 

Or Music of heavy sweet, 

kissed my son_my ideal, 

As shepherd kissed his snowsheep_small, 

And passed sun, moon stars's kingdom, 

This flower's sweetly.true, twelve years

My little flower_spirit grew in milks

Of spirit, and milks

Of spirit, art me created [Shao Music] of my own, 

Like infant of cloud_dark grew in milks, 

With red magma, true, twelve years

My little flower_spirit grew in milks

Of spirit, and milks

Of spirit, art me created [Shao Music] of my own, 

Like infant of cloud_dark grew in milks, 

With red magma, true, twelve years

My little flower_spirit grew in milks

Of spirit, and milks

Of spirit, art me created [Shao Music] of my own, 

Like infant of cloud_dark grew in milks, 

With red magma, true, twelve rears

My little flower_spirit grew in milks

Of spirit, and milks.


and the end tag


Details | Rhyme | |

The Magic Tree

The Magic Tree


			The magic tree
			It calls to me
			It brings me whispers of things to be,
			Voices of the past pass through the leaves
			Speaking to me of things gone by,
			I hear the voices of the ones I loved,
			Telling me of their enduring love,
			How they watch over me from where they are,
			Enabling my dreams to all come true,
			The magic tree takes it time to grow,
			Of the world’s mysteries it does know,
			It gives out wishes, one, two and three,
			When the wind blows,
			The magic tree,
			Calls out to me,
			It sends me love, warmth and the music of life,
			It gathers me into its branches,
			And hugs me tight,
			The magic tree,
			It calls to me.

			Celine Rose Mariotti


Details | Rhyme | |

Family Tree

Exploring the branches of the family tree can be rather dicey.
Some ancestry could be famous, humdrum or downright spicy!
A feller I know decided to take the risk and check around.
I'm not so sure that he was all that pleased with what he found!

Seems that in the distant past a member of his family strain,
Was a notorious pirate marauding the bounding Spanish Main!
Another was a nefarious cattle rustler ever on the vamoose.
Til a posse tracked him down, and stretched his neck with a noose!

One forebear, a scoundrel who specialized in robbing trains,
Was ensconced for life in a cozy cell, detained in heavy chains!
A rowdy ancestor caused a ruckus in a Cripple Creek saloon.
The local sheriff done him in one fateful afternoon!

His lineage included a "business lady", of whom he proudly spoke.
Til I revealed what a "soiled dove" was, dismaying the poor bloke!
His great-grandpa was caught dispensing jugs of potent 'shine.
Revenooers busted him, resulting in jail and a hefty fine!

His uncle was a goon in a notorious Chicago gangster mob.
He met his Maker heisting a bank they were trying to rob!
He proffered a prayer as he examined that tragic family tree:
"Lord! May a sturdy twig adorn this tree and let it begin with me!"

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)


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 | Bio | |

rose rosy

 the start tag 




rose_rosy [????????]
 

By the 
Chinese 
poet 
fengwenshu 


My space 's small emperaror-my son-

As a Roseate for endless routh, 

When unborn my son, 

Lived in lofly belly of a flowering tree of dreaming.

And fire phoenix fly, like one single moonlight_azure, 

In phoenix's body breed, 

In rosy rose had

Vomit and lent to the nigths, hills, 

Rivers, grasss, groves, 

And greatures.her sweetly joy and

Fire of love, 

I sangs upon my son, with words of cloud_white and, 

Or words of green water of flows, 

Day after day, month after month, 

And i made meselves a little cicada, 

In apparel, sometimd, 

I being katydid, a skirt_green, sometime, 

I made meselves a orchid, 

In white apparel, sometime, 

I turns a petty siklworm, 

In white robe, simetime, 

I into Nature 's greatures, 

To body of flowering tree of dreaming flew, 

As if a dragonfly, came to dim bamboos, 

Of summer, 
And my firegod_minor me sings

Or told, for my fairgod_ minor

Being lonely, stir and peaceless, 

I become one single flower's sweetly, 

Or Music of heavy sweet, 

kissed my son_my ideal, 

As shepherd kissed his snowsheep_small, 

And passed sun, moon stars's kingdom, 

This flower's sweetly.true, twelve years

My little flower_spirit grew in milks

Of spirit, and milks

Of spirit, art me created [Shao Music] of my own, 

Like infant of cloud_dark grew in milks, 

With red magma, true, twelve years

My little flower_spirit grew in milks

Of spirit, and milks

Of spirit, art me created [Shao Music] of my own, 

Like infant of cloud_dark grew in milks, 

With red magma, true, twelve years

My little flower_spirit grew in milks

Of spirit, and milks

Of spirit, art me created [Shao Music] of my own, 

Like infant of cloud_dark grew in milks, 

With red magma, true, twelve rears

My little flower_spirit grew in milks

Of spirit, and milks.


and the end tag


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 | 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 | Lyric | |

Public Standerns

Is a tree wrong because it leans?

Or is a tree wrong because it is not green

 

So you tell me what co lour it’s suppose

Too be?

 

We have to walk in a way talk in a way

Head up high and back straight 

Don’t smile to hard cause your not

Really awake being under the 

Spell of what the government has

To make 

 

Oh look his shining but really inside his

Dieing 

 

In a circle of a family everyone has

To be as one you try to step out 

And you’re classed as wrong 

 

Say too much and you’re classed 

As mad and you need to be locked up

But insert of them giving you an ear 

They per fur to give you a glair 

 

See a man with a new whip 

Insert of asking where he got it you

Per fur to BANG! 

And that it!

 

That’s it not just for him but

For his mum and the woman that

Is carrying his unborn son 

 

In roots, when kuntaka heard

The sounds of the drum he don’t run to

Freedom 

He stays with his family and he had to be strong

But in god he prayed that one day his family will 

See a better day 

 

Family is a community!

 

So let us all have a dream that one day are

Community could be clean

 

Clean of the guns and the drugs 

That’s killing us one by one 

 

So I pray for each and every one is soul 

So god could make us all whole 

And let are feelings just roll

 

Because you’re not pulling does’t mean 

That you’re not killing us one by one 

 

So when we see each other lets

Us be nice and greet your neighbor with a smile 

And let god just shine!


Details | Name | |

A fresh Touch

Nobody can live in past,
History is past, a man can learn,
About his success and courage,
New techniques to develop future.

A family tree and my identity,
Religions, traditions and formalities,
A person can’t spare himself,
Until he is living in a society.

Relations are as branches of a tree,
Friends and relatives are leaves,
And a family is flower and fruit
A reduction for growing appetite.

A tree in present where birds
Come to sing and develops nest,
Air delivers fragrance for charming,
A fresh touch for every living.


Details | Light Poetry | |

Christmas Time Is Here

I think back to many a year
when Christmas time was very dear
our tree aglow with lights and fruit
having spent many hours in rubber boots
trudging the woods for that special tree
snow had fallen clear up to our knees
we'd trim and cut then make a stand
our Christmas tree just  looked so grand
we dried some fruit that  hung with care
even strung popcorn which was very rare
the lighted candles stood so tall
praying each night that they wouldn't fall
our Christmas time so very merry
none of that rush with cash and carry
we had things made like socks an shirts
never worried if the shirt didn't work
stockings were filled with fruit and nuts
we never expected or had very much
oh i think back to toughs wonderful days
wishing many could  have seen our ways.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year


Details | Narrative | |

Merry Christmas

 

The tree is made of mostly plastic and metal,
   With blinking lights above its plastic pedestal.
With ornaments of wood, plastic and glass,
   Decorate its branches amass.
A star that twinkles like the one in the sky above,
   Placed gently atop my tree with love.
With presents lying neath its outward branches,
   And children’s imagination as to what are the chances.
They weigh the boxes and gently shake them too,
   Hoping upon hope to just get a clue.
As wrapping paper gets slightly torn, accidental for sure,
   The children look so innocent and pure.
A gift is a gift no matter the price,
   If given from the heart it has to be nice.
With family and friends we gather around,
   This decorated tree where our love will be found.
Before presents are passed out we say a little prayer,
   And thank our Lord and Savior for the love that He shares.
Happy Birthday baby Jesus I heard someone say,
   You are the reason we celebrate Christmas Day.
May peace and joy and love fill your lives on this Holy day,
   And continue to guide you and show you the way!
Merry CHRISTmas to all, it came from a manger filled with hay,
   And gave His life’s blood so we all could receive the Kingdom one day.
Merry Christmas….


Details | Rhyme | |

Will Remain

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


Details | I do not know? | |

A Christmas Tree To Be Tamed

The day after christmas, the tree was up, and smiles still on.
Holiday spirit still wondering in the peacful home.
the little kids rest their heads, nicley tucked in their small wooden bed.
Yet they didnt know the candle was lit bright upstairs, on the tree while flames blew 
into pairs.
Fire arose, ashes shed.
they  woke up from their little sleepy beds.
smoke detectors on, the air is fog.
there's no way to get out, the exit is gone.
I close my eyes but still hear the screaming. 
Feel the heat of the christmas tree bleeding.
The cats cry is their way of saying, they want to get out they 
want to get out, they can hear the fire coming.
I glance at the reflection in the cats eyes.
With christmas spirit burning in flames.
The christmas tree that cant be tamed.
I can taste the fire. I can smell the burning.
As i see the fire, he is chasing. I am running.
When I try and follow the only light that's left to be seen.
I step out the door.
Leaving the childhood dream.


Details | I do not know? | |

155 BHEAM AVENUE

WALKING DOWN THIS EMPTY HALL
FEELING ONLY THREE FEET TALL.
AS THE FLOOR CREAKS WITH MY EVERY STEP,
MY BREATH IS GONE, I FEEL NOTHING BUT FRET.

THE WALLS THAT USED TO BE COVRED WITH PHOTOS.
NOW ARE BARE,ALL THAT'S LEFT ARE THE SHADOWS.
LEFT BEHIND ON THE BATHROOM WALL ARE THE MARKINGS
OF SIX CHILDRENS' GROWING HEIGHTS.


IN THE ROOM WHERE DINNERS WERE EATEN
STOOD THE OLD PIANO,WORN AND BEATEN.
FROM FIFTEEN YEARS OF SIXTY FINGERS,
POUNDING THE IVORYS, THE AWFUL TUNES STILL LINGER.

A BROKEN DOWN PORCH, FADED FROM BLUE TO GRAY
HOLDS MEMORIES OF A FAMILY'S LIFETIME OF PLAY

THE TREE STILL STANDING IN THE BACKYARD,ADDED
REALITY TO THE GAMES OF THEIR IMAGINATION.
IT WAS SOMETIMES A HELICOPTER,CLUBHOUSE,EVEN A HELICOPTER..
THAT TREE BINDED THEM WITH GOOD INSPIRATION.

THAT HOUSE WILL ALWAYS BE THE ONLY HOME I'VE EVER KNOWN!!!