Lyric Tree Poems

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

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Details | Lyric |
Oh Christmas tree
Oh Christmas tree
Oh no I’m singing to a Christmas tree

Rum eggnog in me
Rum eggnog in me
Oh no I’m singing to the Christmas tree

Oh Christmas tree
Oh Christmas tree
Much pleasure thou can give me

Oh mistletoe 
Oh mistletoe 
I’hve a Christmas tree I want to show

Oh Christmas tree
Oh Christmas tree
Oh, I just kissed a Christmas tree

Oh Christine tee hee
Oh Christine tee hee
I thought you was a Christmas tree

No more rum for me
No more rum for me

Or my wife will toss me out
With the Christmas tree

Notes: I have no wife, and I have no tree, I may have some rum, but shhhhhh

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2014

Details | Lyric |
From childhood days trees are my friends,
and may our friendship know not end.
When I was small, I knew their ways;
I listened to the fairy lays
they crooned into the scented air,
I parted the willow's long, green hair
and found a welcome place to stay
till happy hours ate up the day.

Then some of us with dreamer's hearts
have stood, breathless, in midnight dark
upon those special summer eves
when fairies dance beneath the leaves.
Once you have seen the magic start
you cannot thrust it from your heart.
The yearning lasts a lifetime through;
your dearest friends will be the few
who share this rapture, rare yet free,
to know and love a special tree.

Copyright, 1987, Faye Gibson

Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Lyric |
Under The Weeping Willow

I saw you when we were kids
Playing with blocks on the kindergarten floor
We grew up
You became a beauty
I became a geek
I never had the never had the nerve to talk to you
Then we met

Under the weeping willow down on the shores of the river
We met, we held hands and we kissed
That old weeping willow shed its tears
The willow's tears that flowed in happiness
We had found the love we both wanted

I proposed and we wed 
Promising to share our lives from then on
Never to part
I saw the love in your eyes
The geek married the beauty
And the rest of our lives began

Under the weeping will down on the shores of the river
We shared our vows
The rings shined on our finger
That old weeping willow shed its tears
The willow's tears that flowed in happiness
We had found the forever we both wanted

Our baby was born on a summer day
The sun was warm and the breeze gentle
She was named willow
And she smiled at the sun shining through the leaves
She loves her mother and father
All the love in the world could be seen in her eyes

Under the weeping will down on the shores of the river
We were the perfect family
A beautiful little girl with a future of love ahead
She brought pure happiness into our lives
That old weeping willow shed its tears
The willow's tears that flowed in happiness
We had found the family we both wanted

That winter the love of my life died
She went to sleep
She answered God's call
All her prayers would be answered
I am sure that she was welcomed to Heaven
And given a beautiful pair of wings

Under the weeping will down on the shores of the river
I laid her body to rest
A beautiful love that will last forever
She is smiling because she was loved
That old weeping willow shed its tears
The willow's tears that flowed in sadness
The love of my life was gone

Copyright © R. e. taylor | Year Posted 2012

Details | Lyric |
The sun is up and I have to packed up,
The things I want to bring with the light of the morning
The trees are dancing, the wind is whispering
All I want is freedom but there is nothing.

The clouds are clear and I have to walk
The people I see smiling I paused and talk
They asked where I am going with my sweats flowing
All I want is freedom but there is nothing.

They wonder and frowned with my answer
They look at each other as if asking what ever
I continued to walk and stop talking with those creatures
But the station is still far away that my eyes couldn’t measure.

I stop and saw a tree and went to shade
The birds are flying fast and sharply like a blade
I pause and think for a while where I am going 
All I want is freedom, but there is nothing.

Hours have passed and I am tired of walking
To arrive at the train station where people are waiting
Somebody asked me where I am going
All I want is freedom, but there is nothing.

The train has arrived and I saw it gliding
I went near to its door and get inside to sit
The sound has started and someone beside me saying:
“All I want is freedom, but there is nothing.”

Copyright © Angelo Faunillo | Year Posted 2015

Details | Lyric |
Written January 8, 2013

The morning blues in a lily on the pond
Wake on the wrong side of the road
Penniless pockets play the vagabond game
Ride the tiger recently tamed

On a long road to nowhere, horizon's stain
All's my name sitting next to me
Lie down with graceful angels deep in the snow
Or on wet grass recently mowed

I've grown accustomed to the scent of your mane
Spelled chug-chuga-chug is my name
Oh why do flowers never bloom in the snow?
They never have a chance to grow

No, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore
The oaks and pines getting clearer
Much to a land unafraid to spread its wings
Listen to Woody Guthrie sing

Bacon sizzles in the rain and sunshine reigns
We've reached the line of no return
Of the big rock candy mountain we will sing
For the next week my phone won't ring

Copyright © Brandon Carter | Year Posted 2013

Details | Lyric |
My roots are strong surrounded by dirt. I am watered by the down pour of rain, 
sprinkled water. As I start to grow and come alive I become stronger by the 
I receive. The sun beats down on me and stimulates my growth, and I am 
comforted. My 
leaves begin to turn green and stick out like a small birds feather. I am looked 
and admired for my outer beauty. I begin to get stronger and stronger and then I 
to shed, and my leaves fall away. seasons change and I feel cold and stiff as I 
brown in color. My beauty decreases as I age then I die, but yet I return from 
just to start life all over again.

Copyright © Cathy Holmes | Year Posted 2005

Details | Lyric |
I want to go outside
I guess I could if i tried...
I never have the guts to do it though
I'm always scared what they would think of me if I go
Outside seems so welcoming
The breeze is practically inviting
How I long to accept its invitation
To sit by the oak tree and just listen
The grass rustling through my fingers 
The stillness of the night as I linger
The wind whistles a song
And I know that I will stay out here very long
I fall asleep
Next to the old oak tree
I hear the morning birds sing their song for me
I smile at them and I realize I'm truly happy for the first time
But when I suddenly wake up 
I cry
Because it was all a wonderful dream
And I knew it would never happen to me

Copyright © Caleah Buil | Year Posted 2013

Details | Lyric |
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!


Copyright © Karlo De Leon | Year Posted 2010

Details | Lyric |
She slowly grew on him, surrounding his body with brown mold and green moss.

He can’t escape her detachment, her selfless embrace. Her love is only needed from one time to another, like one plant from another, growing and then dying.

And what was that he hoped for but could never find while he was alive?
Some type of love with attachment? She broke him moistly and slowly, piece by piece, while his body sunk deeper into her wet body as the sun and rain touched him.

Right before he died he heard the voice of her, “Shhh, my child, who thinks so highly of himself.”
“You come into me, and I will use you as you are needed! Broken, back into my body, back under my streams of water, back into the cold, soft soil, back where you were born.
You will be used as food for my small creatures. You will be used to fertilize the gardens of my skin.
The tulips in autumn, the dandelions in spring, they all wait to rise and see the rays of the sun just as you did.”

Copyright © JG FINCH | Year Posted 2017

Details | Lyric |
Sitting Eagle
This poem is for the Poetry Soup contest:
Tell His Story
Ross Levan
Mach 15 2011-03-15

Sitting Eagle rests, with a tree at his back,
Playing his flute, to scare a wolf pack,
They have been hunting and following him throughout the whole night,
Escaping great peril in mother forest and sister moonlight,
He is a warrior and never gives up in fights,
But 20 wolves against one man just isn’t right,
With moccasins on feet and cowhides for pants,
He looks like a North American Indian at least at first glance,
He might be your grandfather from another time,
He might even be a grandfather of mine,
Sitting Eagle rests, with a tree at his back,
He’ll get home safe if he follows his tracks.

Copyright © Ross Levan | Year Posted 2011

Details | Lyric |
We once climbed those tree happily
As mum and daddy were at home enjoying themselves.
We sang kpakpangolo ogolo, sang Onye ga agba egwu
Who is in the garden and my grand pa has a big eyes
Those stupid songs of morals and cultural values.
I know the trees in my village
The Ugba tree was where the witches held their meetings
But were later caught and punished,
The civil war started in the crying tree in my home town
Under the beautiful mountains Iyi azu.
The first election took place in the Iroko tree in my compound.
I know the symbols of those pretty trees 
Their scent, leaves and stem.
some of them once told me goodbye on the day of my departure to the city
Some wept and told me how much they would miss me at home
They reminded me how they have fed me when mother pushed me outside with no food.
Then they were my playmate.
I spoke English and igbo to them and taught them how T
To dance the atilogwu dance 
How Eyo festival is celebrated in the west.
I told them about our country, Nigeria and her bad leaders.
They really helped me during my tribulation 
But a enough, the westerners had destroy us,
They taught us how to kill those friendly shady trees 
Use them for stupid things which have no value.
I know those pretty trees which shield me from
Pains and sorrow when the sun came down to torment me
Like a monster and they guided me from the rain.
I know those tree of hope and endurance who stood
Against all odds to see me through when all deserted
And i was left alone in the dark .
Every thing God created are beautiful 
The world is beautiful.
I wanted to grow old with those trees but 
The evil men cut them down when i least expected. 

Copyright © john chizoba vincent | Year Posted 2014

Details | Lyric |
Living in he jungle, no fear to hold,
fighting, always standing bold.
Piloting in the breeze,
swinging on vines through the trees.
His best friends, the creatures there,
to each other they are fair.
As the great one echoes his call,
these creatures, in line they fall.
Ready to help in time of need,
lining up for their great stampede.
How this hero came to be,
left behind in the jungle was he.
Just an infant, unable to escape,
knowing his mother as an ape.
Learning ways of the animals,
imitating their amazing calls.
Suddenly a woman one day came,
becoming his mate, that was Jane.
The king of beasts is Tarzan,
not a Lion, but an Ape Man.

Copyright © Diane Pennestri | Year Posted 2016

Details | Lyric |
Earth's trees are pruned; men came and left
upon their branches burning scars;
now their arms are piteous stubs
no longer reaching for the stars.
My heart is wounded watching them,
so public is their grief and loss,
their shame exposed, yet mute they stand:
I think of Jesus on the cross.

© 1987, Faye Lanham Gibson

Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Lyric |
To this wavering family tree
I’m but a withering leave
My rustling a plea to free
To flee my mind’s sieve

Though their love is evergreen
Having strayed too far from my roots
I’m the first to fall this season
I crunch beneath the march of boots

To this quivering branch
I wish to be a fertile seed
Far beyond its clenching reach
Lest I end up mere bird-feed

A scattered golden existence
Trampled by uncaring soles
A slow death marks our brown existence
A harvest of windblown souls

Copyright © Thabang Ngoma | Year Posted 2016

Details | Lyric |
The best thing you can do about a suicide is understanding it.

The boy opens the door and walks by his mom
his mom says "how was school"
He doesnt respond 
he walks silently to his room
His mom turns away in sadness
"its dinner time Ory" she yells up the stairs.
He walks slowly down the steps
Hiding something in his hand as he puts it in his pocket
His mother is setting the table
Putting meat on his plate 
He sits down unto the seat
not touching his food
"is there something wrong with it?" his mom asks
He doesnt look at her
"talk to me. why have you been ignoring me" she repeats.
He gets up off the chair and walks outside
Walking into the woods as his mom runs out
"get back here where are you going"

Every living thing dies alone." he writes in white on a tree in there back yard
He throws the rope over the toughest branch
He steps up unto a little chair
Tying the rope around his neck
The chair falls

His mom worries in panic
She cant find him anywhere
She waits up all night

The Next Morning"

She walks out to the garden
Looking up at a tree
She sees the fallen chair from behind a tall bush
She runs
Picking up the chair
Seeing the thing she never thought would have happened
She falls to her knees
A tear falls from her cheek
Not understanding 
Reading the words on the tree
Every living thing dies alone"
She wonders

She untangles him from the tree and holds him
Talks gentle to him
Something she hasnt done in a while
Now grasping the meaning behind what he has done

The best thing you can do about a suicide is understanding the meaning behind it.

Copyright © Orlin Collier | Year Posted 2012

Details | Lyric |
I sit  on my deck on this lazy afternoon
watching the sun move slowly to the west

The leaves are dancing on the oak tree out back 
from a breeze gently blowing from the south

A sparrow is hopping from post to post 
on the old fence down by the road

A little squirrel  playing  and running around
to the top of the tree and down to the ground

then I hear a whistle from a distant train
And the rhythm is like music to my ears

I  think to myself  what wonderful way 
to spend a  beautiful  lazy  afternoon

Copyright © Oma Bennett | Year Posted 2008

Details | Lyric |
Written January 1, 2014

I'm just passing through 
This tumbleweed town
Wondering why anyone would
Bother to stay around
When the truths that are spoken
By our mothers and fathers
Are lies told to quiet our fears
To quench the thirst
Of a man counting his years

So today is the day
When I'll be laid to waste
Buried beneath this cold dry sand
Where my father once made me the man that I am
So go tell the angel of death
He can have all that's left
I've nothing to fear in this world
Tell my wife and my child
Not to go and get riled
Up over an old useless man
With a feather in my cap and a gun in my hand
Whistling tunes of my favorite band

Now it's just me and Death
Whispering under our breaths
Shouting high to the mountains
And cursing regrets
Who will be the first
One to draw out his gun
But no matter the end that we meet
One's labeled a coward
And the other is knocked off his feet

It looks as if death has triumphed in jest
Believers and sinners have come to pay their respects
So Death please just leave them be
Crying beneath this Joshua tree

Copyright © Brandon Carter | Year Posted 2014

Details | Lyric |
There stands a tree whose climb I've shared,
Thereby, stacking hours, we'd fill our day.
Where boyhood dreams oft were pared,
While observing others passing our way.

This tree is huge, and through time's flow,
Climbers have been more than its share.
Beyond downward branches we would not go,
Unless responding to some friend's dare.

In youth, one of our grandest trees,
At last gasp, growth appeared the same.
Now, no foliage to greet spring's breeze,
It stands, unable to escape time's claim.

Copyright © Tom Wright | Year Posted 2011

Details | Lyric |
Written March 26, 2013

Hey you way up there in the tree
Hiding away for none to see
No I don't know why you refuse to be
Why can't you just see what I've seen
Hey little mockingbird don't mock me
It's these mystical one-eyed dreams
Keeping me from tossing myself
Twenty thousand underneath the sea

I am what I am
I've gone too far to rescind
These wonderful twisted dreams
Where we're skipping stones by the stream
I know what I feel
Now you're even more real
All I know is how to weep
With the birds lulling me fast asleep

Copyright © Brandon Carter | Year Posted 2013

Details | Lyric |
  My nearly daughter gave to me
a branch from off a healing tree
I used it for a remedy
to heal my broken heart

  I wish I had it yesterday
but better late than not
they say
I think that I can try to stay
and heal my broken heart

  I cannot have those years again
I cannot dry those tears but then
I've found a way to make amends
and heal my broken heart

Copyright © Johnette Loefgren | Year Posted 2006

Details | Lyric |

Flowing water's ripple Upon dawns silent birth Spilling sacred songs In soft morning mist Chanting in rainbow colors In beauty light behold Entwinning purple velvet In ribbons of purest gold Flowing water's ripple Upon dawns silent birth Spilling sacred songs In soft morning mist To fly through weeping willows To fly beyond the edge Upon the hill of passion Within God's loving nest

Copyright © Rick Parise | Year Posted 2016

Details | Lyric |
Written by: Treasa Jarvis
Contest: Inspired

Living Here in the Country
is a laid back kind of way
I like to sit under the old oak tree
and write my cares away

I listen to the cheerful  sounds
that nature offers here
I am reminded of simpler times
when I didn't have a fear

Summer breezes blowing
inspires me to write a song
ignites a fire inside of me
gives me strength to carry on.

When I am feeling overwhelmed 
dont have to look for me
just across the meadow
I'll be sitting at the old oak tree.

Copyright © Treasa Jarvis | Year Posted 2011

Details | Lyric |
Now there are two little bluebirds,
and an ocean of baby blackbirds 
to keep them company.

So sing pretty bluebirds, cause
you're really two little lovebirds,
singing we are soulbirds!

You fly from tree to perch

singing baby you're my bluebird,
singing where's my soulbird,
singing I hear my songbird!

Every tree is your home, 
and every tower your perch,
and don't be scared cause 
you sing like a dream, making 
your predators fall asleep.

Singing baby you're my bluebird,
singing where's my soulbird,
singing I hear my songbird!

Your sweet sonnets serenade my soul,
your lighthearted tune makes me want to
fly your direction, and your heavenly pursuit
keeps me on the edge of my tree.

singing baby you're my bluebird,
singing where's my soulbird,
singing I hear my songbird!

So, keep chipper my sweetly singing bird,
and you'll find me in the same tree eventually.
Leading the sparrows in the lovebird anthem,
then you'll remember our song. 

Copyright © Bethlehem Derseh | Year Posted 2011

Details | Lyric |
In desert that is poor and dull
On soil that is scorched with fire
The Upas-tree stands as a hull
as guard who's one who knows no tire.

The prairie's nature had a thirst
begetting Him in day of fury,
It filled dead green of branches first,
It poisoned roots these give no curing.

The poison flows through pale bark,
Noon smelts with heat His poisoned dripping,
The Eve congeals Him like a mark
as limpid pitch on trunk - He's sleeping.

There are no birds to fly to Him,
No tiger walks to tree, just swirl
embraces tree of death with scream
and runs away with toxic evil.

And if the cloud will irrigate
His ancient leaves and pause its motion,
Its fallen rain flows down as fate
along the branches like deadly potion.

But crafty man had sent a man
to Upas-tree with glance of power
And man had walked according a plan,
He brought the bane in morning hour.

He brought the bane - the deadly pitch
And branch with faded leaves of Oro
And sweat ran down the brow and bleached
it with cold streams in silent sorrow.

He brought. He's weak, he has laid down
under the arch of the tent on flooring,
The slave has died in feet of crown
that knows no loss that knows no longing.

The Lord fed arrows with this bane,
They are obedient to his power,
He sends the death, he sends the pain
to neighbors in decisive hour.

P.S. This is my translation of poem by Alexander Pushkin

Copyright © Serge Lyrewing | Year Posted 2016

Details | Lyric |
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.  

Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2010

Details | Lyric |
(Anacreontic Verse)

Cold Flight

Cold flight! What ice
finds fierce fire
between paws
of mine crunching
through rough snow
and slush slip 
mush mist up 
from face and 
tail underfoot. 
Careful pines 
step aside of our
hunt tonight 
sky lighted
by lightning
finding prey very 
frightened of Life’s
cycle, like the eye
of a rifle 
eying my demise 
behind traitor pines. 

Copyright © Alexander Plevka | Year Posted 2015

Details | Lyric |

                                                The light from my window shines..
                                             Brings my eyes and dreams all outside..
                                               Birds flying so high from tree to tree..
                                              My only prayers are to write that free..

                                               The light from my window drifts past..
                                         My mind follows the wind from line one to last..
                                             The tree tops dance to the music of me..
                                         Each word a whisper that screams what I see..

                                            The light from my window is my inspiration..
                                           A place to imagine and play is my dedication..
                                                   The page is full and a title is found..
                                      All my visions and images expressed with no sound..

Copyright © Michael J. Falotico | Year Posted 2011

Details | Lyric |
Little tree
You are no longer little anymore
But to me
You will always be
Little Tree

Copyright © Llayn Mays | Year Posted 2016

Details | Lyric |
A plumeria blossom floats to the earth.
Is it a death?  Or is it a birth?
It lands with its face touching the ground.
Never shall it be a hula crown.

The luster of its blossom shines upward like a star
A symbol of my aloneness in a place so far.
A crown or a symbol.  In the end, is there a difference?
The hula crown too is destined to the earth in a sense.

Lady Gaia opens her heart to all in a gesture of love.
She receives the return of both blooms as a gift from above.
One plumeria adorned a dancer’s hair;
Its fragrance and beauty appreciated beyond compare.

One bloom left the tree on its own, catching a breeze, hoping to fly.
Yet, it sails to the ground, rather than dance in the sky.
Its brave action is noticeable only to one.  
The person who sits alone in the sun.

A blossom’s daring act of leaving the tree all alone
Has mirrored my life and cuts to the bone.
The significance of its exploit brings tears to my face;
And in this very moment, my aloneness I embrace.

Mahalo nui, little earth star, plumeria blossom
The treasure you have given me is truly awesome!
Recognition is but a fleeting diversion;  
Touching one soul with love is a lasting conversion

Copyright © Margie Boehmer | Year Posted 2008

Details | Lyric |
Its all useless why do I even try.
I spent hours of rolling tape on my bag,
So the anger stuffing will not fly.

I have this anger in me that I cannot explain,
Pain shoots up my back then tells my brain.
Calm as I can be thinking it’s the pills they feed me.
Little do they know It’s my broken spirit on a fig tree

Copyright © Jack Reed | Year Posted 2011