Elegy Tree Poems | Elegy Poems About Tree

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

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Anew: to the Tolkien Tree

Remember how he came and how he went,
Born far away the flakes of your soft bark,
A quartered apple in the muse’s hand,
The evergreen fond memory, our spark.
Up, up, up
Into the errant autumn winds.
Leaves stutter in the gust – a maudlin dance,
The whisper of time’s awl.
Up, up
Rend your unsightly pining skin,
Become a lute, a cup, a battle lance.
There is no infamy in such a fall.
The wheel has turned where grief and branches lay.
Remember how he passed and how he stayed -
Small things through which the darkness’s kept at bay.

Copyright © Anna Milon | Year Posted 2015

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Family Tree

Our tree is dying,
leaf by leaf they fall to the ground,
without a say in the matter,
and stuck to the branch,
we watch them leave,
unable to catch them,
Before they meet there dealth

Copyright © Jamecia Buggs | Year Posted 2010

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Elegy to a Weeping Willow

Elegy to a Weeping Willow This weeping willow once danced in the yard. Now dead a naked trunk’s remembering, the man, the woman and the little girls, from Sixties years of Kennedy and King. Her hair blew gently as she often cried, leaning toward water somewhere near. Strong yet beautifully dreamy, once loved and cherished truly dear. This weeping willow watched our family grow, gracefully swaying to a summer breath. Yet as time passed and trauma came and went, we witnessed her slow journey into death. 5/24/17

Copyright © Janis Thompson | Year Posted 2017

Details | Elegy |

La Tombe d'arbre - Translation of Oodgeroo Noonuccal's Tree Grave by T Wignesan

La Tombe d’arbre – Translation of Oodgeroo Noonuccal’s « Tree Grave » by T. Wignesan

Quand-t-il s’était parti, notre défunt,
Au-delà pour le Monde des Ombres,
Pendant que nous poussions des gémissements,
Nous lui avons enrobé dans d’écorce d’arbres,
Et nous lui avons porté, en récitant
Notre chante de mort lugubre,
Vers sa tombe dans un arbre isolé
Au bord de la Longue Lagune.

Même quand nous sommes bien éloignés
De nos feux de campements éparpillés
Nous ne l’oublions jamais
Ni de jour ni de nuit
En faisant face à l’endroit où il sommeil
Sous la lumière d’une lune blanche,
Au bord des eaux scintillantes
De la lagune silencieuse.

Sont déjà oublié ses exploits de chasse
Et les chansons qu’il avait composées ;
Le pauvre gars tout seul,
Il aura surement de la peur
Quand les vents de la nuit chuchotaient
Leurs aires d’épouvantes
Parmi les chênes marécageux hantés
Au bord de la Longue Lagune.

© T. Wignesan – Paris,  2016

Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2016