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Best Tree Poems

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Monkey in a tree by Harvey, Aa
The Wise Old Tree by taylor, R. e.
A Blessing Tree by Lindley, Robert
Spring Song - The Tree style by Petersen Potter, Dorian
Some Fun - The Tree style by Petersen Potter, Dorian
Angels, Angels - The Binary Tree Structure style by Petersen Potter, Dorian
Tree of Life by Marcum Wong, Connie
WORLD'S LIKE A TREE by Devnath, BL
Barking up the wrong tree by Yuhas, Pete
The Willow Tree by Gonzalez, Cirenio

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The Best Tree Poems

Details | Tree Poem | |

A Dryad's Tale

One day while passing by a tree, I heard a sigh. It seemed the oak could speak; I felt my knees go weak, for like a siren’s song, his whisper made me long to stop and lay me down upon his shaded ground. Because the day was hot, I lingered at that spot. The oak got in my mind because I felt inclined to slip out of my dress, and yes, I must confess it was as if that tree had cast a spell on me! With words of poetry, he started wooing me. His leaves then brushed my skin. I trembled deep within. His branches were so lush, I hoped I would not blush to think each sturdy limb might draw me up to him. I don’t know how or why, but under summer’s sky I disappeared into his essence and I knew the tree had captured me. His wood nymph I would be, for he and I were one that day beneath the sun. As if immortal, now I live beneath his bough; at times I disappear within him, but no fear lives in me any more because the forest floor I roam now with great joy; the woodland is my home! Beneath the firmament, lost in my oak tree’s scent, I feel completely free, his beauty all I see. A young maid passes by; perhaps she hears us sigh and thinks it but the breeze now passing through the trees. But no, it is but I, beneath the summer sky locked in my tree’s embrace, and with my new found grace, I look at her and see the girl I used to be, and my reality is this sweet fantasy

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013

More great poems below...


Details | Tree Poem | |

BEECH TREE FOR CONTEST

Oh how I hate the winter where my limbs are exposed and seen I just adore the spring time, I wear my dress of emerald green Draping myself in lush foliage, not an inch of body you can see Until warm winds of autumn arrive and begin to undress me Then I start to shiver as my gown of golden leaves falls away Leaving me cold and naked until spring returns again one day Contest - Trees Personified Sponsor – Charlotte Jade Puddifoot 08~22~15

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015


Details | Tree Poem | |

My Tree's Seasons

spring wakens my tree - a bejeweled perfumed bride. . . . love birds make their nest summer’s yellowed lawn beneath my tree’s sombrero. . . . grass breathes sweet relief fall’s quick change artist - from green to gold to crimson. . . . disrobed, my tree naps For PD's All About Trees (old/new) poem Poetry contest

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2011


Details | Tree Poem | |

Somber Days

I am somber like November days and my words speak weak, as if through tired tongue I see the trees stand naked reaching their limbs across the stream as if touching and comforting each other from the bitter cold that's settling in sometimes I envy them I want to stand naked arch my back reach towards hands and feel the comfort of more than I am allowed and escape the bitterness as it settles in it doesn't seem fair to question a day or night that wears the same veil as me, colorless and silent in the breeze as it whispers through the trees sometimes I want to lean my ear and eavesdrop on them I want to peak beneath the skies veil and see the colors blend to see the rain less clear through colored drops fall upon a canvas and paint a masterpiece I want to feel my hands finger a pen, without tingling from bottled up emotions to feel my soul inside me not as if locked outside looking in, as if a stranger to my own life not be the afterthought or an emotion beyond words of some poet's muse I want to know the meaning of this emptiness I want to understand why the tree is as naked as my thoughts in winter yet dressed heavy in the summer and most beautiful in the fall why does beauty fall become grounded and dance in November's wind somber, like the day....

Copyright © Sandra Adams | Year Posted 2013


Details | Tree Poem | |

Wood Stages

I Death Wood

My skeleton, the trembling tree,
hit by the axes of ambulances
due to the decay of disease.
My muscles languish as wilted leaves.
My organs are rotting red apples.
My soul is the searing wind, while
my thoughts tick like termites.

The ivy of MS illness wraps with
waste around my twisted trunk.
Suddenly, spiders of suicide 
descend onto my branches.
They crawl across my broken bark,
crackling my rustic eyesight.

The sun, a golden unicorn, gone
into the forest of healthy laughter.
My wilted wood wanes in a cloud coma
with no moon, stars or watercolor sky.
Where are my wildflowers? 
Where is my green gleam?
I wait and wish for black lighting.

II Birth Wood

My family, the fog where most
float in the underworld as veiled
ghosts along the grassy grounds.
My thirsty roots reach for them
like wild hands hungry in ebony soil.
Sometimes their memory perfumes
and pollinates my heart with prayers.

My friends are a flock of birds that
become singing bracelets upon my bark.
Their feathers grace me like silk hope.
Their beaks devour the suicide spiders
on my weak wood, and their cheerful 
songs encourage me to bloom once again. 

Full moon flashes as a white wizard,
wearing a cloak of competitive clouds,
while moody night smolders as his black hat.
Spirals of opal light make my bark bright.
Spirit moonbeams weave within my wood,
healing hollow shadows, and allowing me to 
taste the monthly midnight milk of magic.

III Rain Wood

Spring steams with saturating rainfall,
sealing my splinters, washing away webs,
and the dirt of daily depression. 
My sap slides like a slow moving sea.
My tree bends and bows in all
directions, sprouting with joy.
Jade fire erupts along my branches.

Raindrops beat like crystal hearts
upon my boughs and my blossoms.
These clear spheres of nature inspire 
rebirth and germination of all life.
My apples sing as flutes, my leaves
clap hands, and my trunk plays harp.

My lover, the lone eagle, appears and flaps
his feathered wings upon my wooden nest.
Our love is best lived in traveling weather.
My limbs taste the last drops of dissipating dew
as the crocheting clouds release final rivers.
Deer court in the fermenting forest,
while golden unicorn grazes upon me.

February 7th 2008

Copyright © Chantelle Anne Cooke | Year Posted 2015


Details | Tree Poem | |

Willow

My slender boughs are bowed
by the great weight of my grief,
and these are not leaves

cascading to soil, but tears of teal.
I am shaken by a sorrowful breeze;
my sap taken by the fading light,

dried out and hollowed, a rasp of parched bark;
creaking and weeping
with the weight of my mythology

as cold takes hold, scoring its mark on bark,
rippling and stippling my leaves;
a shivering shroud of green settling over me.

Yet eternity rings coil at my core, ensure
tiers of teardrop leaves will glisten with life again,
drooping and dripping in a shimmering baptism of rain.

Copyright © Charlotte Jade Puddifoot | Year Posted 2013


Details | Tree Poem | |

Probabilities

Probabilities

fallen fruit exists
earthen harvest and ground meet
jars in the pantry

Robert J. Lindley ,07-24-2014

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2014


Details | Tree Poem | |

A Bed of Pink Petals

One April day when spring was in the air,
I stepped outside so I might relish it.
I came upon a cherry tree so fair,
beneath its limbs I was enticed to sit.

I fell to sleep inhaling fragrant bliss -
the vision of the tree still in my brain.
I dreamed one sweet, pink petal, like a kiss,
fell on my cheek, and soon there was a rain. . . 

A rain of lovely silken blossoms! Then
they softly made a pile upon the ground.
Warm wind embraced me; that’s the moment when 
I woke to pink resplendence all around!

Upon a bed of petals I then lay.
Inside a dream I had no need to stay!

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013


Details | Tree Poem | |

Rainbow Tree

Oh my regal Eucalyptus friend,
Your tall rainbow trunk is rooted deep,
Stationary, yet your tree tops bend
In constant unison with the wind.
My camera can’t capture your awesome sweep.
Thin limbs try to reach the azure sky
While your trunk fascinates passersby.
An army of ants reveals a platoon
Moving over bark to their marching tune. 
Your small leaves sing in susurrate song,
A Queen amidst trees where you belong!

© Connie Marcum Wong

We have this lovely tree here in Hawaii. The rainbow eucalyptus, Mindanao gum, or rainbow gum is the only Eucalyptus species found naturally in the Northern Hemisphere. Its natural distribution spans New Britain, New Guinea, Seram, Sulawesi and Mindanao.

Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2014


Details | Tree Poem | |

The Solo Dancer - Tanka to Sonnet

Alone atop a hill,
   an ornamental willow
             dances in the breeze.
Long limbs form a lovely gown
    that gracefully sweeps the ground.

Adored by the sun,
    the willow is not weeping.
                        She blooms rosily!
April’s first shower has passed;
       for the sun alone, she shines.
           

The Solo Dancing Ornamental Tree (new title for the sonnet version)

An ornamental tree with willow leaves
upon a promontory stands alone.
In April’s breeze, each limb, cascading, weaves
with fragrance. She is dancing on her own.

I wonder how she came to be at all.
Her roots lie in a solitary place
where few traverse to spy her - lithe and small -
there moving in rain’s aftermath with glee.

In small degrees, the sun has climbed the sky.
No longer pallid, he is smiling down
upon the swaying willow. By and by,
Her graceful limbs shine like a lacquer gown.

Her lovely blooms have opened to expose
The splendid blush of buds with hue light rose.

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013


Details | Tree Poem | |

Seeing Autumn's oak adorn

Painting sky before I was born,
Draping my grave in leaf and acorn.

----------------------------
Contest: Crystalline
Sponsor: Rick Parise
11.22.14

Copyright © rob carmack | Year Posted 2014


Details | Tree Poem | |

Eleven Words

A busy road.
A tree stump.
An old man.

Everyday at eight 'o clock
He sits there, cane tapping
just watching cars go by--
I among them

Such a lonely man
I say to myself

Same busy road.
Same tree stump.
Same old man.

He looks up, cane twirling
and smiles at me
in that split second
I smile back

A roadside friend is gained.

Same busy road.
Same tree stump.
Different old man.

Day after day
He waves hi--cane dancing
Smiling
I wave goodbye,
no time to stop

Same busy road
Same tree stump
No old man

I screech to a halt
Ask of his absence

Clutching
a piece of paper
found taped on his cane
I weep in my car
and send a prayer
of thanks
to my roadside friend

Eleven words
Changed my world.
"Thank you lady in the blue car.
You make my day."

Same busy road.
Same tree stump.
Different me.


Copyright © binibining P.iNk | Year Posted 2010


Details | Tree Poem | |

Silent Voice

--Tree Silhouette-- 

shimmering tree
they're no footsteps around       
but fallen leaves 

**
afternoon twilight
heaven is listening
peaceful lonesomeness
  
**
Autumn waits 
The wind blows the mind   
leaves falling softly

By:PD

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014


Details | Tree Poem | |

Oak Alley

Gifting us a green canopy, oaks bow with old South gentility.

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2014


Details | Tree Poem | |

A Christmas Snow

It is Christmas Eve, all preparations for the day are done,
My hand grabs the doorknob as I step out to take a stroll,
On this peaceful night the village is silent, and I see no one,
Walking under the warm glow of a decorated streetlight pole.

I stand and gaze at the windows of the house next door,
Where a tree glows with bubble lights and tinsel strands,
Three stockings holding wishes, await over the fire's roar,
A scene straight from a dream, so wonderful and grand.

Glancing upwards, as the clouds glide across the moon,
Silver stars are out mingling with the drifting snowflakes,
A sight to enjoy here and now, for morning will be here soon,
A beautiful Christmas memory, deep in my heart to take.

Only one car comes up the street, as I walk along our lane,
Just a friendly snowman is there to greet me with a hello,
I stop, adjust his top hat, and reposition his pipe and cane,
This cold-hearted man has made a child smile, I know.

My ears lead me to the street corner where carolers sing,
As those old familiar notes drift towards me on the air,
More sounds seem to awaken as the bells distantly ring,
I felt nothing but a warming glow as I was standing there.





Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014


Details | Tree Poem | |

Lessons Learned from Trees

"A woodland path in the dappled sun, hushed and quiet "

                                                             ~A Rambling Poet~



A canopy of trees
filters the sun for me,
and I am grateful...
For I do not feel like 
having the rays glare
in my eyes today,
in a brooding mood I am.

The earth is damp,
drunken with dew,
seemingly commiserating
with me

I lay myself down,
jagged rocks beneath me
--cutting, rough--
and I welcome it
For it grounds me,
a reminder
that not everything 
is sunlight and blooms

I sink in my darkness
and close my eyes
to dwell in it and drown,
just sighing

For an eternity,
I am mired with
muck and moss in my mind,
thoughts eroding
to nothingness

...until I open my eyes
to Wonderment

The trees above me 
stand tall and proud
in their radial glory,
the sun just
breaking through,
shimmering, dappling
my cold being

Leaves gilt with light
blink back in awe
and I am floored,
blanketed by warmth
of hushed spirits 
surrounding me

These trees 
tell their tales
of growth and survival,
of yearning for 
that light,
of their struggle
to catch a glimpse
of heaven...
of capturing 
its light,
using it,
feeding off from it,
in order to 
give back to others

some of them stumble
yet most of them
succeed

I am humbled.
I am awed.

Yes, the canopy
gave me shade,
temporary darkness
from the light,
I look up again
and realize
that the tiniest
pinholes of hope exist,
reaching deep within...

little sparks
that set off
a chain reaction
of life




--June 11-12 (2011)

Copyright © binibining P.iNk | Year Posted 2011


Details | Tree Poem | |

Out of the Sun

              Stayed 
             in the sun 
              to long
               today
 The skin became the bark of a tree
 the soul turning to brittle scars
 for uncaring worlds to see.
             my face
            is a pile of 
           old owl bones
sewn into banks of midnight creeks...
even the plump, over ripened ones 
no longer look at me...
but if their car was desert flat,
their oil grim reaper black
they'd paint a wormy, water colored  smile...
slide it through my barbed wired heart
so long as I could spin the jack...
so I spin it until their potholes turn to satin-
               Stayed 
              in the sun
               to long
                today
the mind has smoothed over 
like pebbles in Saturn rings..
a forgotten spice in the conversation of life
an hour later the word snuggles up to me
               laughingly.

Tomorrow or forever( which ever comes first),
I'll stay wrapped inside
till my skin turns back to ivory
to an easter egg yesterday 
to a time of bouncing ball and spinning jack,
when the mind was a great silky nest...
the face a flowered meadow place 
where watercolors swirled all day, 
the heartworms kept at bay.

I'll stay hidden within the briar, 
till the jewels of memories sooth 
every scar - every stripe,
the molten knots of cruelty,
till the sweetened fruit reclaims the tree.
until then only my curtains breathe...
       ...stayed in the sun 
              to long
                today




Copyright © Anthony Slausen | Year Posted 2013


Details | Tree Poem | |

Oak Tree

     the Oak  Tree

You were always someone special
In the midnight hours in my dream
I could really feel the tension
A tree, a limb, a friend
No matter how hard life came at me
There you stood perfectly
Letting me lean up against your stand
I will never forget the day you swayed the first hi 
I talked as if you were hearing
A tree, a piece of wood in my path
A punching bag
My Oak Tree you will always be

One day in my sorrowed life 
I stopped by just to reminisce 
Your beauty, I find so divine
Your leaves took me backwards
I fell in love with your soul all over again
With a beauty, I find so divine 
Hope you will always be there my friend
Indulging the felling you transcend 
A cold spot never found in you
Re-breathing your surround, no need to make a sound
The power you have when you make my heart mend
My Oak Tree you will always be my friend

In the lowest day of my life
I went on a secret walk to look for comfort
The beauty of you is no longer there
Walking around with an extra deep pain of hurt
Not sure how one could bare such a loss
Dropping myself to my Knees upon the dirt
An empty spot is the only thing there
My friend I thought you would always be there 
How can they take you away from this world?
A lonely field
No root, no seed
Loneliness no one to lean up against
You will no longer be there
How could they cut down, my friend?
My friend the Oak Tree.

Where are your seeds?

By;PD

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010


Details | Tree Poem | |

Little Blue Pill

Went through a phase....thought maybe I should live life to the fullest,
and stop giving away 8 hours of each day, towards sleeping.

After the first week of sleep deprivation,
Buddha and Jesus both appeared simultaneously,
started following me wherever I went-
couldn't tell between hallucinations and reality.

Buddha helped write my final exams,
and Jesus always made sure that I didn't forget to eat.

After the second week, I was floating above my body....
no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't fall asleep anymore-
didn't just have second and third winds....I was having winds 
to the 99th power extreme.
Jesus was telling me to try again and again,
while Buddha told me to hang in there,
for Nirvana was just around the corner.

Asked my buddy for some help,
and he gave me this little blue pill -
don't even touch aspirin anymore.

Well, the pill knocked me right out! 
Tried so hard to fight against it,
having some doubts about what I had just swallowed.

Metallic galaxies of inner stars began pulling at my eyelids,
adding their massive core-gravity to my temples.
Red turned to black inside of my mind,
as little globules of pulsing light
floated before my inner-eye.
Down,
down,
d      o      w      n,
down, I spiralled,
thinking about picking cherries from the apple tree in Eden....
beautiful Japanese Geishas propping up the ladder
that pointed down into the rabbit hole.
Up was down,
as cherries were apples?
The branches of the tree resembled its roots in the ground-
perfect mirrors of each other,
as I sat in both places at once;
dream double looking back at me.

ZZzzzzZzzzzZZzzzZZZz....for almost 62 hours straight.
Must have lived a thousand lives in those dreams.
Woke up, wasn't sure if I was still sleeping?
Awoke into sweat and stale urine.
Started falling asleep in school.
Fell asleep at work.
Once you swallow the blue pill,
you can never go back-
the rabbit hole stretches into eternity.

Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2010


Details | Tree Poem | |

Blossoms on the Snow

(A Kyrielle Sonnet)

The tree stood trembling; red drops spilled
one Christmas day where one was killed.
Sweet daughter they would not see grow
left crimson blossoms on the snow.

What horror that their girl could be
slain senselessly beneath that tree
where every spring she loved to go
and blossoms fell, but not on snow.

The tree of which she’d grown so fond
dropped pearl white petals on a pond.
Oh, that it still were long ago
before were blossoms on the snow!

The tree stood trembling; red drops spilled
like cherry blossoms on the snow.

Andrea Dietrich
For Your "Saddest" Christmas Ever 
Contest sponsored by Constance La France 
~a Rambling Poet~

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2010


Details | Tree Poem | |

Trees

 The tree that held the forbidden fruit
     Held our destiny in its roots
The ancient secrets that it kept
     May hold the tears that the willow wept

The tree that holds  the robins nest
     Holds life most precious, it is blessed
The tree from which  the nightingale sings
     Holds the melody until spring

But the tree that I will forever miss
   Is the tree under which we kissed
So long ago our hearts did leap
   With sweet caress and passions deep
         The tree where hearts will meet in bliss
Is the tree that holds tomorrow's kiss



Copyright © Joseph May | Year Posted 2013


Details | Tree Poem | |

The Oak

I stood as though reborn on mounded dirt,
which seemed so moist it strangely could assuage
the ache from bowels that howled from so much hurt.
Would ground then be my cure or a mirage?
Enticed, I deeply pressed each foot through soil
till they took root and fixed me to a spot.
My ever-thickening trunk served well to foil
the plots of those who’d cut me. . . . they could not!
My limbs, though mighty branches, could not bend;
stubbornly I fought my transplantation.
I weathered storms that God or man might send,
sightless, living long in desolation.
Self preservation did this much for me:
old loved ones passed and I remained a tree.


8/24/2015
For the Trees Personification Contest of Charlotte Jade Puddifoot

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015


Details | Tree Poem | |

Scattering Blooms


Gathering a plethora, of abandoned blossoms high and low, a covered basket and pockets full. Light footsteps through shady trees releasing dainty blooms for me, nature’s soulful aliment like a rainbow placed strategically for a little girl's innocent eyes. Blooms falling into my hands on a wooded path for one, then scattering to the wind, a fanciful dance, free of pending frailty; prancing petals take flight before their glory fades... How can I preserve God’s majestic beauty, petals adorning a late spring breeze? The newly green earth and trees - watch me, watch them. I am but one girl gathering blooms to press between pages of time or seep into an intoxicating potpourri. I could take a snapshot of these sacred scatterings but never could a photo fill my senses - the sweet scents, sounds and touch of blooms on a wooded path and breezes all around my face, the sight of God’s majestic beauty in a magical place. If I had one wish it would be, to share these magical moments with you.

Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015


Details | Tree Poem | |

Revive the Breakage

High upon the highest heights I see the most tremulous sight A small girl, fair and tranquil Smiling strangely, sitting still Beneath a sobbing willow tree She recites a verse upon her knee She sings a rhythmic hymn Not of death, nothing grim But prays that life will return Even for those who are doomed to burn The girl is a woman now Beneath the tree and upon the cloud She whispers, “I am watching you” Why then are you so blue? A single tear of sadness and joy Rejuvenate the quirky earthly boy Who sits down beneath the blooming tree Listening to her silent voice attentively She reminds him she was once young too That she also was a misty shade of blue But when the boy grows into man He has come to ignore the fair woman Who watches him still from above Burning and swelling with disdainful love The ways of the world have sweltered his heart And time has torn his soul apart Thus he has lost all innocence and light Battling his sinful lust—an endless plight! I watch as he feeds on others’ pains and fears Reducing the vigilant woman to tears The prayer of the innocent has been ignored Life has died and hellfire stored Into the hearts of the impotent In blue, fires of haze their heart is sent Toiling in misery and lament Savaged and severed by our regret The heavenly woman grows old and frail And the man still treads the sinful trail As the rotting tree withers into dust Can I revive it? –I must! Low as low can possibly be I watch myself condescendingly A tombstone, gray and hell-bent Frowning knowingly in bewilderment Above the dust that once was a tree She cries out a verse anxiously Faintly she whispers the undying hymn Not of happiness, nothing of whim And prays that life will come to end For those that break instead of bend

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2011


Details | Tree Poem | |

Blackbirds In The Rain



blackbirds in the rain walking among the fallen leaves under the old mango tree with dripping leaves bathing the grass below blackbirds diligently lifting the rain soaked fallen leaves peering underneath for insects and worms flushed out by the drizzling rain pausing to gulp one down then scooting off again searching for more sitting under the shed with raindrops playing their music on the galvanised sheet roof with a beat that resonates within my inner being putting me in a trance connecting me to the rain and the puddles on the ground with the raindrops gently tapping the water's surface creating rings that collide with one another disrupting their individual shapes creating a dynamic new pattern reflecting their unity and bubbling with energy in the drizzling rain O what a deep feeling of peacefulness and serenity with the rain the dripping leaves and the puddles serenading my spirit with the eternal song of Nature and merging it into the Unity Of All Things
It was raining today. There was a constant drizzle for hours. I sat in a shed attached to the house, watching the blackbirds in action in the rain, searching for their food. The constant rhythmic sound of the rain on the galvanised sheet roof of the shed and the gentle drama playing out in the backyard with the blackbirds was a spiritual experience for me connecting me with Nature and the unity of all things as mentioned in the last verse. .

Copyright © john beharry | Year Posted 2014