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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 | 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 | 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 | 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 | |

Whiskey Christmas

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

User Name  Cecil Hickman

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


Details | Free verse | |

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 | |

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 | 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 | 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 | 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 | 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 | 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 | 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 | 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 | 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 | 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 | 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 | 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 | |

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 | |

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 | 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 | 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 | 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.