Christian Tree Poems | Christian Poems About Tree

These Christian Tree poems are examples of Christian poems about Tree. These are the best examples of Christian Tree poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Quatrain |

The tigress' mark

She prowls the night
with clenched jaw and pride,
nothing able to smite
her remorseless stride.

The ominous reflection of moon 
shines forth from devouring eyes
of a nocturnal beauty spun on the loom
of the Creator's bid and sighs.

Grace moves her every limb
and she precedes an enraged scream
caused by ruins of a forest now grim
and held alive by all but one stream.

Her claws prophesy of vengeance 
though her heart yearns for reconciliation.
Yet now there would be no leniency 
for a soul's annihilation. 

Now on journeys through lush valleys and ashes
she will embark
until all that remains after furious thrashes
will be the tigress' mark.

Copyright © Robyn Thomas | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |

A Single Leaf Out of A Tree

A single leaf, 
Falls out of a tree above me.
As it twist and turn, 
The wind blows it in my direction.

But why?

It symbolizes all my struggle and all my pain.
It tells me that they twist and turn, 
But never remain.

It takes a sudden fall next to me. 

But why? 

It symbolizes the thought of being alone.

It tells me that someone is always by my side. 

As I write, 
The leaf flies away.

As if it had a huge success in it's encouragement.

Nature communicates with us in many ways.

Not with words, 
But with a single leaf out of a tree.

Copyright © Anthony Scandrick II | Year Posted 2012

Details | I do not know? |

Welcome 2013

Well we are already a couple of months in so i just wanted to say welcome. 
this will be a new journey for the both of us, so i hope it will be awesome. 
I will try to write more than usual this year, I promise. :)
What would help tho if you readers would send me topics and stuff to help me write about things cuz my mind goes way faster than my fingers and i cant think of just one thing. lol. so thank you readers. plz comment and tell me your thoughts.

Copyright © Roman Chebukin | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |

A Single Tree

A Single Tree
Steve L. Siegel
August, 2015
Up on the upper Hoh River there is a trail 
Only two and haft miles long, at end of trail is a tree
Were it has turned into a cross all by Gods own hands
People have been coming up there for years to see.
There is no pastor up here
Only a log beam made into a bench
Where people come pray or meditate
Some getting closer to God within the tree’s reach.

Myself it was time for self-reflections 
I knew that for me it was time to grow
Where I learned that a little rain must fall
Some-times for Jesus, so that I can learn to be the show.
I sure don’t know why this tree grew this way
By the laws nature it should not have
 Nothing has ever hurt this tree
No fire or lighting has ever have.
I do truly believe that this tree
Has seen more people turn their lives around
Then any church or pastor on any Sunday
Maybe, that’s why God put this tree in this piece of ground. 
Author’s Notes
This tree is for real it is a big spruce somehow instead going straight up
It has two branches that forms a cross.
It at Olympic Nat, Park, Hol campgrounds  

Copyright © Steven Siegel | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain |


Mystery Under The Tree

They went to the manger that night,
those wise men who came from afar,
to worship the child by the light 
of Bethlehem's bright glowing star.

The animals, drawn unto Him,
soon gathered 'round manger to see
the holy babe sleeping within,
and shared in the great mystery.

And so was our dear Lucy cat
at Christmas time lost in her dream;
each day by the Christmas tree sat
to guard the Nativity scene.

She'd stare at the babe in the hay
and looked at each figure beside.
It seemed something drew her to stay;
for hours she'd sit there wide-eyed.

Like animals drawn unto to Him
that met 'round the manger to see,
our Lucy seemed led from within
to guard the sweet babe neath the tree.

Sandra M. Haight

~5th Place~
Contest: Mystery
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
Judged: July 6, 2016

~1st Place~
Contest: Cats and Christmas Trees
Sponsor: Mary Oliver Rotman
Judged: 12/15/2015

Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015

Details | Personification |

The Apple Tree

Apple Tree

I do not know why, but for the longest time, it has been assumed that I was in the Garden of Eden. I’ve been seen in gardens, orchards, and the yards of many people, but there is no proof that I was ever in Eden.  But let’s just assume that I was indeed the tree realistically known as the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.

For heaven’s sake, let’s just assume that I was an innocent bystander, absorbing nutrients from the garden and producing juicy apples. Yes, I was climbed upon by the devil, picked from by the woman, and eaten from by both Adam and Eve. And can anyone imagine how disrespected I felt and taken for granted? Remember, neither the devil nor Eve consulted me about apples from me.
I grew and produced the apple that caused God to be displeased, and forced him to drive them from the garden. Moreover, at least two bites of an apple from my limbs changed the course of history for both nature and all of mankind.  I must say that I am not proud of any of this. But you must remember, there was plenty of blame to go around, but when the punishment was handed down, I was not included.                                                              

And remember, I have the  knowledge and remember very well, because I was there and witnessed literally everything.  I even heard the devil lying to Eve, and if I could talk, I would have rebuked the devil, and advised Eve to slowly walk away.  I didn’t know where Adam was, but the least I could  have done was to call out to him saying, “Beware the devil on my limb!”.                                                       

I tell you, I was so sad when I heard God’s voice telling Adam and Eve about their future lives, their limitations and restrictions. Adam was to work hard enough to sweat; and Eve would always have pain when she would give birth to their children.                                                    

It was painful for me to listen to, and enough to make even a tough apple tree like myself break down and weep. But the best part was when I heard God tell the devil about his punishment. That’s when I began to rejoice.  Wow!  I could not shake a leg, but I shook every limb and all the bark on my body.
08262015 Curtis Johnson; Contest, Trashed #4, Sponsor, Broken Wings

Copyright © curtis johnson | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Christmas Poems For Kids And Teenagers VIII: The Christmas Tree

Come to me you little ones, I’m your seasonal Christmas tree Triangular I’ve always been Representing His love, your Hope and your faith Come to me you little ones, I’m your seasonal Christmas tree I share with you so many lights Reminding you to celebrate His glow Come to me you little ones, I’m your seasonal Christmas tree I have a stand, one but strong Cling unto Him to be your Rock. Come to me you little ones, I’m your seasonal Christmas Tree Can you see how green I’ve always been? That’s exactly how he’ll keep you nourished All through the year Come to me you little ones, I’m your seasonal Christmas tree Always looking good in awesome decorations You are not the only one with new robes Yes! B’cos it’s Christmas!

Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2014

Details | I do not know? |

Dark Christmas

3 am.
The alarm clock in my head wakes me with a 
silent clanging.
Outside, the rain is falling so hard. It sounds like someone's
trying to break into my room.
It's Christmas Day.
It might as well be August 25th because the conversation in my head has not changed
since then. "You are a piece of shit."
I think of things I need to worry about, things I've worried about since August 25th and way before that.
My anxiety runs through my veins like hot chemo.
I stagger to the living room and stare at the half-decorated Christmas tree ...
gold balls weighing down one side. Empty green takes up the other. Oh, there are two figurines of kittens that I bought at a garage sale in Staten Island in 1998.
God. 3:10 am.
A whole day to spend by myself.
Not a fake friend in sight today, with their banal conversations about picking up their laundry or meeting at the gym at whatever time to do arms or back.
Just as well; I get a blank stare from them when I want to talk about chasing happiness or being childless at 53.
The TV is my savior. It pulls me out of myself.
Bing Crosby comes on singing "White Christmas." He's dancing
with those two impossibly shiny bleached blondes. And they all have those white, almost blue American teeth -- not one out of place.
12 pm.
I wake up on the couch and "White Christmas" is still playing; it must be a marathon.
Outside, the rain has turned to snow and there are two messages on my phone -- from Christian friends inviting me to their houses for the day.
It's tough being a Buddhist on Christmas. OK, so I know, as the Buddhists say, everything is OK as long as I let it be OK.
But this is one day of the year I don't want to "be."
I consider whether to shower. It takes 10 minutes to decide. I let the hot water run down my back, and I don't know if it's burning from the water or my nerve endings.
I don't want to face Christmas - but I have decided to join life and go to Cory's to see his kids, stare at the tree and eat some turkey.
I decide to take a Xanax, and I stick one in my pocket as assurance.
Maybe some of this gloom will yet lift from my heart.

Copyright © don munro | Year Posted 2012

Details | I do not know? |


It's March. we'll never reach it/ no matter how fast you go/
I'm breathing/ it's cold and chilly/ I'm lying right on the floor/
It's March. it's obedient, humble, ridiculous, playful and rude/
with lipstick on mirror's surface/ "everything's gonna be good"/
it's night. black veil in square / of window /and it expands/
you can take any star from the heaven’s roof/ grabbing it with your hand/
milky way - is the fountainhead channel / for galaxies to begin /
get the glass from the kitchen and pour it /with pure and shining moon milk/
Emptiness isn’t the absence/ of particles/ molecules/ cells
Like if they never knew the secrets/ like if they nothing have to tell/
Void’s more like broken dishes / pieces stuck somewhere in chest/ 
We make a short trailer of our movie/ trying to do our best/
Cigarettes/ coffee/ balcony/ exhale-eat-pray- and love/
Morse is similar to the Braille alphabet/ falling as music above/
Night is dying / I see its grin/ universe’s twirling the window touch/
I look into its soul/which is eaten/ by sadness/ it’s March. It is March.

Copyright © Ilya Emelin | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |


Are we awake or are we still sleeping?
Blind to the hurt, and deaf to the weeping.
Ashamed of religion and supportive of the new,
Aware of the lies and hidden from what’s true. 

Worship the evil and turn away the pure,
Developing disease with an unknown cure.
Starving the poor and overfeeding the wealthy.
Killing the sick and drugging the healthy. 

Going to war for some kind of power,
Building tall structures over all types of flower.
Cutting the trees and polluting the air,
All out of greed, with no sort of care. 

Turning us against our own, 
And help from up above.
Making us beings of hate,
Instead of ones of love. 

Demonizing the mystic,
Criticizing the wise.
Making our own family members,
Into people that we despise.

Awaken to the torment, 
Be aware of all the pain. 
Those who are misleading,
And claiming that we are insane.

Copyright © Alyssa Waters | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |


In the vast beauty and diversity
                 of the reaches of the cosmos
           impresses upon us all
the shear minute dust we are
                 in any comparison
The simplicity of laws
            that govern it's most basic
     and complex movements
Birth , Life , Death
                 some would distain this as "circular"
as the patterns in creation are
for all things existing within its confines
the birth , life , death of stars   , galaxies
entropy and the recirculation of those elements
into new structures encased
                 in the womb for new material
apply equally to the diversity of structures
                 cycling on the little blue marble
seed  sprout   bush    tree     seed 
seed  sprout   plant    flower     seed
seed   baby    child     adult       seed
same  down    onthe   cellular    level
same  down    tothe    atomic     level 
                 and its clock
in a state of perfectly circular self propagation
For those who foolishly accuse us of being
Let me explain              a simple something
     how we measure time in the cosmos
is based on a circular orbital movement of planets
                      and stars
and as for thinking
are questions seeking answers which just
                     lead to more questions
          and that's the beauty of it
       simplicity defines even the most
        complex systems that function
right down to the circuit boards for computers
        and technology
Mama      seals     it      with     Kiss
        Keep it simple stupid
anyone who doesn't know
a clock embedded in the universe
has not recognized his own 

Ecc 8:17
COPYRIGHT © 2013 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC

Copyright © Poetryof Providence | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

The Glory Of A Tree Or A Branch Of A Vine

Fortune and Fame,
Is this the root of the value of your name?

If all your valued were stripped away,
would be like a tree who leaves were stolen away by the winds of a hurricane?

In the eye of a watching world,
would you appear to be like a hopeless tree,
stand in the forest with naked branches and rotted out roots?

If you were like a branch that was grafted into a healthy strong vine named Jesus The . Nazarene.
Though the hurricanes will come and go and steel your fortune and fame
Your branches will never remain naked.
For the vine's root will never rot.
For the  vine is the source of eternal life and has over come the power behind the force of the hurricanes.

The branch that abides in the vine will always renew it's fruit.

Which is your fortune and fame rooted in?

Are you a tree standing alone in the forest try to produce your own glory?

Are you a branch grafted the vine name Jesus The Nazarene?

Written by Stephen J. Vattimo
Sept 12, 2015

Copyright © Stephen J. Vattimo | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Angels Atop the Apple Blossom Trees

Angels flying around the the tops of apple blossom trees
Trying to soak up the aroma
Dancing on air currents to get a quick sniff in the breeze
All the while playing their harps and fiddles

How majestic is their flying?
How majestic is their twirling?

For each and every angel that flies above the orchard
Becomes intoxicated with the scent of heaven
There is no greater scent on all the earth 
That represents the earth’s gardens like the apple blossom tree
So the next time you are out and about walking 
And you see the apple blossoms in fullest bloom
Just close your eyes and you’ll be dreaming that a dozen angels are staring at 
you.... because most likely... THEY ARE!

Gwendolen Rix

Copyright © Gwendolen Song | Year Posted 2014

Details | Senryu |

Christmas Tree Baubles

     Christmas tree baubles
taut around the fir's branches
    (Christ will come again)

Copyright © Julia Ward | Year Posted 2015

Details | Sonnet |

The barren tree

A failure in the placement of the tree;
Too small are roots which spread into the soil.
At first so perfect,later one can see
Its strength unable full life to uncoil.

A hidden shame for partly sensed deep lacks
A drawing back when growth was better sense
A fear of unknown dangers in soil black
Humiliation makes a  hidden fence.

Perhaps this tree’s unsuited to our climes.
Seed moved far away from parents home.
Yet once it starts to grow there is no time
Unless it’s quickly moved from  English loam

For lacking its best soil ,unrooted gifts
Are not developed,and in struggle twist.

Share this:

Copyright © Katherine Bee | Year Posted 2015

Details | Narrative |

If I Were A Tree

If I were a tree what kind would I be? 
Would I see more of life
If I felt less strife? 
Would my worth grow with time 
Like fine wine?
Will my beauty last? 
Will my color show in the midst of snow? 
Would famine, fire, disease or flood
Diminish my will to be, 
My desire to know who created me? 
Would I feel rain?
Would I complain of endless pain?
Would I tire of standing with nothing to do? 
No bending low, no thoughts to sow, 
No whispers to sound; 
No laughter
No crying no sighing. 
If I were a tree would my Lord be with me? 
Would I reach for heaven knowing I’d never go?
Am I a treasure to be bought and sold 
To be left alone out in the cold?
If I were a tree it would be 
The one that had Christ nailed to me 
For all to see.

Copyright © Jonathan Bellmann | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme |

Upon this Tree

Upon this Tree
Written by Adam M.

Look upon this tree,
a Man hung for us to
The blood which
stains this tree,
is the reason we are

The scars and lashes
upon His back,
all for us, He did
not slack.
A precious life He
gave to us,
surrendering all
without a fuss.

Out of love His life
He gave;
this lost lamb, His
blood He save.
By His blood our
sins He lave,
the price His life
in which He gave.

Death has claimed
Him, but claimed Him
no more;
upon that tree our
sins He bore.
Conquering Hell a
battle won,
victory is He, God's
only Son.

Copyright © Adam M. Snow | Year Posted 2014

Details | Personification |



The pointy pinnacle waits upon the ground -
grinning, leaning against a kitchen ladder.
Strung, but not lit, its dreams are found

of spherical ornaments revolving around
this needled pine, and a linen angel
sitting aloft, proclaiming Christ’s birth.

So vivid, the dream, where stars light the sky.
A carpet of crimson red rolled out for
the famous one of Israel, for he’s come to save.

This brilliant sunset, the only decoration on
this cold winter night: a babe lies upon hay,
like a sacrificial bleating lamb, a swaddled form.

Dew upon the pine, drips from its eyes. He sniffles
but God’s voice so sweetly says, “these things must be,
it’s the only way to present humanity to me.”

From my place upon the ground, I look up, to wonder - 
and see my reflection, a proper cap placed upon pine,
where a cross-shaped star shines, with sudden brilliance.

I awake with shivers and a smile, not feeling at all small.
Humble, on my rugged knees, I passionately praise,
so loud that lights without power ignite and I joyfully shake.

And the little girl and boy, who rub their eyes, think a draft
has caused these branches to whisper. Not witnesses of
this colorful sight, yet they feel a sudden heartfelt warmth.

Kim Rodrigues (c) 2016

Copyright © Kim Rodrigues | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |

Here We Stand

Here We Stand
By Curtis Johnson

On earth we continue our stand and together we sing,
Never fearing the bite of demons nor the devil’s sting.
We fight the good fight of faith, until the final bells ring.

We are like a fruitful tree planted by the rivers of waters.
We labor hard, never quitting till the end of all four quarters.
We are fine and faithful finishers, and not fiery flashing starters.

God’s enemies and ours have been disarmed.
It means not that we are living a life of charm.
We  need never fear when leaning on His arm.
And no believer has any need to be alarmed.

He’s our Shepherd according to the 23rd Psalm.
We are covered by His blood; enemies cannot harm.
By the Strength of God, we are flourishing like a palm.

Copyright © curtis johnson | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |

We Trim The Christian Tree part 1

We Trim the “Christian” Tree. Part 1

Christmas time brings memories, racing in my head.
However: as I’m growin’ old, it comes with greater dread.
For shortly after Halloween, Before Thanksgiving Day.
Stores will show us “X-mas” wares, to make this season pay.

Jolly Santa and his sleigh. Bags of toys and nine reindeer.
Snowmen and candy canes, Mistletoe the young men cheer.
Homemade fudge & ginger cookies. Tasty pies & frosted cakes.
There’s one thing sets a part. The Tree that front stage takes.

It’s filled with shining lights, sparkling tinsel, thin glass balls.
Tiny elves, and Santa’s sleigh. Tied on safely, against a fall.
Much of this distracts for me, all this “stuff” now on my tree.
I’d rather as my grandkids came, Hints of Christ for all to see.

As the day now fast approaches and my plastic tree comes out
That has for Oh so many years, made “real tree” folk, often pout.
I’ll put away our tiny Rudolph, with his nose of shining red.
Try to focus at this season, on our precious Christ instead.

The Babes mom, Mary
The story here won’t be complete, without mention at whose feet.
This young babe will follow in. Without sin His life completes.
That eve, the young babe’s mom, heard songs His angels sang,
Who years from now, a loving Son, dying on a cross, will hang.

  Rough sawn planks 
Small rough sawn planks made up the cold hard manger.
While rough sawn beams, would bring our Christ, real danger.

A Gray Donkey  
A gray donkey bore His mom, to that stable, dark and cold.
To the place where He is born, a humble place, the stories told.
Then on thru Jerusalem’s gate. Our King, another donkey rides.
Carried to this fateful stage.  A trip from which, He did not hide.

Angel’s were a part of this, they sang, as Shepherds kept.
Peace on Earth, Good will toward men, as the tiny baby slept.
Near the end, the Son of God, Could ten thousand angels call.
But for our God, it was now time, For His ‘only’ Son to fall.

  A Lamb  
Near that stable, a perfect lamb, borne on shepherds back,
Was brought along by them, to keep it safe from nights attack.
Years hence, another place, Another Lamb would pay the fee.
On Calvary’s Cross would die, to save all men. To set them free.

We’re near done adorning 
This reminder of a Season.
They may not notice “X-mas” spelling
Christmas spelled without the Reason.

We’ll pause now to catch our breathe
But times a wasting to finish here.
To tell the story of who and why,
This precious story is so dear.

to be cont:

Copyright © Old buck | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |

We conclude: The Trimming of the Christian Tree

We conclude" The Trimming of the Christian Tree 

Times a wasting
Thanksgiving’s growing near.
We’ll soon drag out the plastic tree.
The family will trim it here. 

Strips of Cloth
Clean swaddling cloths. And what of these?
To wrap the babe, from nights cool breeze.
To shield His gentle skin, so tender, young, and soft,
From all the scratchy harshness, of a lowly cattle trough.

But at His grave, revealed at mornings light.
Where He had laid, and folded there just right.
Those burial cloths, that offered fragrance flood.
As now those cloths, are stained with blood.

Beneath our tree, gift packages, brightly wrapped, but later torn.
Tell the tale of “Why He’s Born”. A King with “Crown of Thorns”.
On this eve, 3 gifts were given, for these Magi had felt driven.
To find this tiny babe, to save mankind, had now been given.

It is said down through the years, Gold is reserved just for a King.
Frankincense did symbolize, a Holiness this King would bring.
The final gift of these, Will our hearts through ages bring.
It’s been said this precious Myrrh, Represents His suffering.

For later on, another gift, this tiny babe would offer.
A gift so freely given, what more can Christ then proffer?
His blood spilled, a life would end, Beaten, bruised, and torn.
This King of Kings & Lord of Lords, for all men’s sins had borne.

A Humble Stable Cave
There was no room, but offered, humble stables cave.
Then as fate, for His grave, another stranger gave.
A fitting place our Savior, could his bloodied head now lay,
If only there, for then a three day stay.

A Star         
Atop our tree, a star will shine. As one the Wise men followed.
To point the way to this new babe, born to die, it don’t seem fair.
It was in evening’s darkness, the lovely star shone bright.
But on the day of this Kings death, the day was turned to night.

Just as sure as that star shone, Believers know, we’re not alone.
Our Christ lives and waits for us, to share in His eternal home.
As we approach this busy time, some things no longer pleasin’.
Much to do, much to spend. Yer runnin’ for no good reason.

Step back and think it through. Is this Christ’s plan for you?
When He was born in Bethlehem. For this lost world to view?
If you’re trapped, and wearin’ thin, For no rhyme nor reason.
Remember now and years to come,
The Reason for the Season.

This was written by oldbuck to remind his 
Grand-kids of just that, The Reason for the Season.

Copyright © Old buck | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

The Mirror Tree

Trees are
miracles indeed
A strange thing to see
Myriad of reflective leaves
This would be the mirror tree
Thousands of smiles shimmering
Like tiny wonders upon sunny seas
Some would disbound with these
Empirical imaginations to blind to see
Easily dismissing the forest and the trees
Thousands of frowns shimmering
Lay still upon the pragmatic grounds of beliefs
Stepping on the variable shards of shining seeds
While sprouting silverlings fill the pockets of disbelief
No longer looking for the root of truth how can this be
The branching greed still chokes all of these
Thousands of grimaces shimmering
Twisting in the earth
Rotting beneath
the trees

Copyright © John Beam | Year Posted 2017

Details | Lyric |

In Perfect Unison

A fresh breeze is blowing
Whispering ever so softly
Like a beautiful love ballet
Trees swaying everywhere
Swaying back and forth 
Dancing in perfect unison 
Praising God Almighty
I'm in totally awe
As the whispering breeze blows
Singing a special love song
And the swaying trees, 
they appear to dance
Swaying side to side
Never skipping a beat
Never out of sync
The whispering breeze 
And the swaying trees
They're in perfect unison
So blow wind blow
Sing your song
Sway trees sway
Dance your dance
In perfect unison

Copyright © Sonnier Williams | Year Posted 2017

Details | Rhyme |

Make Me A Tree

I think that I would like to be
a Christian that is like a tree,

whose branches towards the Son are slanted,
in soil of God’s Word, so firmly planted.

A tree that lifts her arms to pray
when things are rosy or it’s been a bad day.

A tree that can provide some refreshing shade
for those who in burning trials, may feel waylaid.

A tree that in each and every season
knows for its existence there’s purpose and reason.

Poems are made by fools like me
but only God can make a Christian a tree.


Inspired by one of my favorite poems, Trees by Joyce Kilmer

Copyright © Carol Connell | Year Posted 2017

Details | I do not know? |

Tree by the Gravestone

Went to go see my love
who passed years ago
Sitting on the family bench
Under the shade of the tree
Remembering our life
The years of happiness
It always brings tears
to the eyes to think of this
Wish you were still with me
as all these years fly by
I try not to grieve
because one day I know
I will see you again in

Copyright © Julie Leigh Rodeheaver | Year Posted 2017