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Mother Tree Poems | Mother Poems About Tree

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

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Details | Concrete |

The Eternal Tree

I am Alive    Forever and always         Essence        Rebirth        Renewal
          I have earth to ground me      I have wind to move me   I have fire to cleanse         
     my     spirit        I have rain      to quench    my thirst    for growth
                      I have sun to    enlighten me        feed me  I am my own mother
              and an extension of the whole     I am   Earth         wind
                       rain   sun  fire    I am as old as life  and I am     as young
   as time   I am shelter to those who seek me   I am a bird  a flower and  the breath
              of the earth itself        I am exactly where I want to be     I am life
       I am first and last  the beginning and the end   I am one from many
                        I am what I am   I live  I grow  and I die. I am  Reborn unto myself
                                                          I am the great circle                   
                                                           My limbs know no                          
                                                           Boundaries; while                            
                                                           My leaves whisper                      
                                                           The one truth of the                      
                                                           Whole  through the           
                                                           Seasons changing
                                                            Colors that I wear 
                                                            Upon my   heart's                  
                                                            Sleeve, I'm home
                                                           To Earth Mother’s
                                                           Melodious  Life; I
                                                           Sing for the whole
                                                         World to hear - trees
                                                       Are Earth Mother's Song
                                                       Blowing 'round the leafy            
                                                  Globe; eyes of the world song 
    {{{{{{{{{{{{{{ Of the Mother   breath of the living   soul of the earth }}}}}}}}}}}}

***Senses evoked here are: Touching, Tasting, Hearing, Smelling and Seeing
***Elements evoked are: Water, Wind, Earth Metal, and Fire

Copyright © Kristin Reynolds | Year Posted 2008

Details | Free verse |

Mother Nature's Jade Ink

The dragon of disease captured and cremated my mother 
from the criminal cancer.
Oh, how I mourn her enchanting emerald eyes!
Her favorite color was the silky sheen of green, still is I 
should say since her spirit stirs within me and within the 
Here in the novel nourishing Northwest, reminders of her
regal royalty prosper in a pea green puzzle.
The giddy glaucous Fir Douglas branches float as friendly
feathers, reminding me of her hardworking artistic hands
and humble hugs.
The virescent veil of copious serene green fosters the
fertile foundation for flowers, stems, buds, leaves, trees,
pines, giddy grasses, ivy and the jubilant jungles.
Within mother nature's jade ink, my mother eyes and 
essence still exists!

March 2 2016

Copyright © Chantelle Anne Cooke | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Slender Birch

Steel Gray skies with threatening rain and restless wind
My breath gathers as mist on the inside of the window pane
...as I watched for the school bus

A slender birch tree with spiral scars 
of flayed bark against its white skin
like curlicues of sharpened pencil shavings

Still clutching many bright yellow leaves, 
Some collecting at its base like a discarded garment
Sunlight, just a small shaft flickers bright dapples on tiny dancers
Ocherous curtains against the bruised sky

Prodigious vibrant final act
Just for me
The tree manages a sly curtsey 
in my direction, 
Sacrificing more of her fragile costume

My beautiful rosy-cheeked child kicks playfully
through the saffron sea of discarded programs
“Here are some for you Mama” he says
as he bursts into the kitchen smelling of peanut butter and early fall
There he deposits a chubby handful of my regard 
gently into my apron pocket

And into my heart's hiding place as well
Perfect poignant performance;
Beautifully done slender birch,
Most beautifully done

Copyright © Kelly McDonald | Year Posted 2006

Details | Rhyme |

A Weathered Tree

Two beautiful trees on a hill that died
Two beautiful trees for whom I cried
They weathered the seasons through the years
They stood the test of time
And weathered all the storms just fine
When our life is none
And our time on earth is done
When we have stood the test of time
Like the trees we weathered just fine.

For Sandra on the loss of her parents

Copyright © Phyllis Babcock | Year Posted 2008

Details | Free verse |

The Backside of Killington Mountain

Killington Mountain, one of the largest Ski resorts in New England.
With its webbing of trails, dotted with colourful kaleidioscopic ski outfits;
racing to the Castle they call a Base Lodge.

My Cabin is atop a mountain across two valleys from Killington's backside
I can see the untamed, wild and free side of Mother Nature's: True being
Where deers have no fears, and the Bald Eagle soars Free

I once did a recue mission there, and when all were safe, I walked
Into the forrest of Nature,where mankind had never before intruded
I walked where the Deer, Bed. where the eaglets squawked for food

I saw the Black Bear awake; "Good Morning Mrs. Black Bear"she Yawned
And walked away.I heard the Evergreens giggle as melting snow ticked Pines
The Serenity,Tranquility,enveloped me in Nature's Wonder of the World.
      Inspired by Linda(PD) with her Contest: 7 Wonders of the Ancient and
                     New World. This POEM is one of my 7 Wonders.
This is Dedicated to all POETS who have written about the Autrocitys of 
Mankind to "  Nature or THE Beauty of Mother Nature in Rhyme "
                           This is not a Contest Entree

Copyright © HGarvey Daniel Esquire | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

The Dogwood Tree

"to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature"
 byWilliam Shakespeare, 1601

Come spring, in the shaded forests near my home 
Blooms the elegant and lovely dogwood tree
In a bit of sunshine it spreads its graceful arms
As if to offer each blossom for God to see...

White velvet petals tipped by the palest pink
Simplicity strung along each swaying branch
No need to boast about its reign of beauty
This spring picture it surely does enhance...

My mother loved the pretty dogwood trees
We'd often stop to enjoy their brief  display
I think of her each time I see them flower
These beauties that would so enrich her day...

Barbara Gorelick 4/20/2011
For  THE TREE contest, hosted by Constance~ a rambling poet~

Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2011

Details | Rhyme |

'Twas The Week After Christmas

'Twas the week after Chrstmas and all through the house
The children were sleeping, too tired to arouse,
When all of a sudden there appeared in the room,
Mama in her nightcap, carrying a broom.

The stockings once hanging on mantle in row,
Were picked off the floor, into storage they go.
All the glitter of Christmas, now tarnished and torn,
Must be removed from the room ere the New Year is born.

She tackled the tree, taking some care,
To remove every light, the tree was soon bare.
She packed everything, put it safely away
On a shelf in the basement 'til next Christmas Day.

The fine Christmas spirit she'd had, was now flagging.,
She must clean up the mess to keep it from sagging.
She dragged out the tree and then heaved a big sigh,
Sat down with her coffee and had a good cry.

This was modeled after Clement Clark Moore's,  'Twas TheNight Before Christmas'

Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2011

Details | Couplet |

Mother In Law Tree

Mother In Law Tree

What if I was to see a certain tree
Appearing in poem written by me
Saying what tree was and was not
Never sweating or ever getting hot.

Next to tree was field that had stone
While it was always standing  alone
Then again to me it had occurred
Never heard my tree say a word.

When I saw tree from sea or land
Branches looked like fingers in a hand;
Never saw it sitting on a throne
Tree always stood there all alone.

God with bark tree did dress and bless
And couldn't ever hear tree confess
All around tree was soil and dirt
Did not see it with a shirt or skirt.

God for me my tree He made
On one side you will find shade
Road horse by with feet in stirrup,
And from tree came maple syrup.

When tree experienced a mishap
Down it would drain much sap
And when on tree it did rain
Water slid off and did not remain.

Walked around tree wearing boots
And underground were many roots
Had been respectable and brave;
Beside it had been buried a grave.

Did die and last time tree I saw
They had called it a mother in law
Around tree grass was all green
Two graves, tree grew up between.

James Serious Mysterious Horn
Retired Veteran and Soldier

Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2017

Details | Ballad |

Tree of strength

My tree of strength, my beautiful solitude spot,
I come to you to rest,  My tired body, my tears to shed,
My tree of solitude, may your strong branches give me shade,
My tree of solitude, you bring a smile upon my face, forever I will be grateful for your warmth, and grace.

My tree of solitude, I lay beneath you, as the winds gently blow,  your gentle branches, singing me to a calming sleep, I lay beneath you to remember my beloved son,  who loved nature with all his heart,
for now I know he is with me in the peaceful moment, thank you my sacred tree, until we meet again,  
may you stand tall and strong, with your long branches, to keep my spot nice and warm.

Copyright © Jennifer Donnay | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

My Place in the Universe

I am from the dying stars
From the stardust galaxies we seem to not exist in
I am from thriving earth
I am from the envious ground bounded trees and rushing waters
I am from the endless sky telling me to look for home
From my mother who waits at home for me
I’m from questioning the universe and my place in it
I am from the falling sky but i’m caught on the ground that is my home, earth

Copyright © Valerie Gomez | Year Posted 2016

Details | Narrative |

The Tinsel Tree

"It's a fake tree", I said the year
my mother lost her mind and decided that real trees were too much trouble!
My best friend, who lived next door
thought it was just great,....that giant, silver monstrosity!
That is..until I told her to close her eyes, and sniff.
"That's the ugliest tree I ever smelled!" she said, ...finally agreeing with me.
Her support helped to convince my mother of her error in judgment,
and that was the last tinsel tree we ever had.

That was the same year
that we noticed that Santa Claus looked a lot
like our neighbor, Mr. Hendrickson.
We had called him "Mr. Hiccupson"
until we would go into fits of giggles
watching how his belly jiggled.  

Spending all those Christmas's apart
 after her family moved away, was painful
Never again would we have special sleepovers, 
      and times like singing around that fake tree,
         and listening for Mr. Hendrickson's reindeer to land on the roof.
We had written letters for awhile, but after a few years
   we drifted apart....her living on one coast, me on the other.
But I had never forgotten that last Christmas....and the silver tinsel tree.

Out of the blue...a phone call,...a voice that time hadn't forgotten.
Suddenly, we were laughing and giggling like two little girls once again.
Sometimes, when you least expect it,
Christmas shows up early,....like a long lost friend
   and wraps you up in it's arms.
         Thank you Santa Claus.....or Mr. Hiccupson, ......wherever you are!.....

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2009

Details | Senryu |

Yesterday Flower

yester day flower
today yieldingly fruit or
a tomorrow tree

Copyright © Abdullah Alhemaidy | Year Posted 2017

Details | Rhyme |

Mother Nature is Wonderful

Mother nature is wonderful, it will cause my new tree to grow delicious plums.
I enjoy planting fruit trees, I guess that I have a green thumb.
I now have four kinds of fruit trees, apple, pear, plum and peach.
When it comes to my trees, I expect to get tasty fruit from each.
All my trees need are water and sunlight to provide heat.
When my trees bear fruit, I will have plenty to eat.

Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2014

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.

Copyright © Angie Sharp | Year Posted 2009

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.

Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Bearing Fruit

Long hopes for my bearers fruited comfort, of new soft sins quarreled.

‘Tis  lost.

The tree grew,

no caretaker to guide it’s way to the sky.

It’s limbs sprawled and gnarled with contempt and confusion.

 One yearns for you’re insight.

Though beyond, the tree will bore it’s supple fruit,

‘Tis  fruit will not be lost.

Caretakers will guide their way.

Copyright © Kaylah GIlbert | Year Posted 2011

Details | Ballad |

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

Copyright © Walter W. Safar | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |

i dont want you anywhere near my apple tree

i dont want you anywhere near my apple tree.
now soar.. high above 
but before you reside here
know that i died near                                                                                                                                    this apple tree
i bit into the fantasy of life
a foolish woman i was, making no riqhts
so the pain left only to return again
thunder busted my eardrums
yet I cried silently
in spite of me
you've returned, to spite your father's sin
daughter leave this place


                                                    to be continued.

Copyright © Chante Reeves | Year Posted 2010

Details | Rhyme |

Granda's Tree House

I'm sitting in the garden
With my small son on my knee
He looks up at me with big brown eyes
And says “Tell me about Granda's tree”

My father planted a tree 
In nineteen forty two
He nurtured it and hadn’t bargained
On just how big it grew

When I was just seven years old
I had a love of climbing trees
Many times mum put plasters 
On my bloodied and skinned knees

I can remember one day
Wearing my new party dress
Peering in through the window
A grubby bedraggled mess

I’d climbed as high as I could go
Then heard a quite loud crack
The branch it snapped in two
And I landed on my back

I’d excelled myself on this occasion
You could say I’d gone the whole hog
I’d landed on a little offering
Left by next doors dog

I remember as a little girl
My father built me a house in the tree
A sturdy wooden house with windows
Especially for me

When I was in my tree house
I could be almost anywhere
In a tropical jungle
Or in a cave hiding from a grizzly bear

Hanging onto my rope ladder
With a plastic cutlass on my hip
I could be looking for buried treasure
My tree house a pirate ship

Underneath the carpet 
In the middle of the floor
My father had lovingly made me
A little brass-hinged trap door

Whenever I got fed up
Of being stuck inside
I’d open up that trap door
And go straight down the slide

Sometimes I would stand
For maybe half an hour
And pretend I was a princess
Imprisoned in an ivory tower

Some days I’d be a cowgirl
On a wild west ranch
And sometimes I’d pretend to be
A monkey swinging from a branch

One day I picked some flowers
And mum asked what they were for
I said “they are for my cottage
With roses around the door”

My son is looking wistful
Then he smiles at me
He says “mummy I would love
To see my Granda’s tree”

Tears come into my eyes
My son’s smile turns into a frown
I say “The tree's no longer there
The new owners chopped it down”

My son says it is sad
That the tree's no longer there
But no-one can destroy the memories
That my son and I share

Copyright © Jenny Linsel | Year Posted 2017

Details | Bio |

1 ford, 1 tree, 1 families hearts bleed

Born May 1975 in Adelaide South Australia Denise, with a harsh life thrown at her soul from birth she gave it everything, to smile at the cracks from each new day But, as life struggled with her throughout her childhood she would become a mother, at a very young age with a future of pitta, patta little feet, from the six lives she struggles it all for She found a smile with ease and content, with her babies blessed to be the trials fought through each and every day, the years filled her heart with tears As life had just begun to see life off in the distance finding ease as I see the rolling countryside Wham, now to pay for the love and laughter, she had found contentment in Out of the blue, a white ford would change the lives of the Hopkins family out of control, only to be stopped with a tremendous, and awful thud as the car began to roll onto it side coming to the end of its terror hitting a tree with the full impact to the roof, and bouncing back to the earth Hospitalisation, rehabiltation and a life long lost the truth would find it's place, with the years followed by undecribable pains Not knowing the life I once had, trying to recover any joy from motherhood this isn't any feeling that anyone should have to understand accident or not, heavy hearted as I had almost killed my child watching my child struggle day to day, and raise a baby that will soon be alive Two broken legs and an unforgettable six weeks in a comma Protecting your precious, new life within who and where is this Jesus, or God gone not here? Peace is never going to arrive, to concur this life I have to make changes and learn, I'm not worth the price broken throughout the middle, left without a clue How a husband, can no longer see any desire in you Alone and pain riddled will karma come, and give me back my giggles? My life should have never been born, as they have all seen I am longing for your decision, as I hold tight a desire for you see this is the end me, look and watch as I bleed for a future where I can be free, do you have the power? can you give it to me?

Copyright © Denise Hopkins | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |

Tree swing memories

He sat on his swing attached to a willow tree
swinging to and fro, full of happiness and glee
shouting to his mother, mummy look, look at me,
life was so good, loved, happy, footloose, fancy free

now sits on his motorcycle, mum doesn't agree
shouts to young ladies, come ride it's fun you will see
though your safety I will not, can not guarantee 
but I am sure you will feel footloose, fancy free,

now he is married with his own son, John Barry
swings to and fro, shouting hey daddy look at me
bringing back memories of his mum Emily 
how she allowed him to be footloose, fancy free.

time passed so quick, he saw his only son marry
still looks at that swing attached to the willow tree
blown to and fro by a Gentle breeze, quite scary 
being unable to be footloose, fancy free.

21st May 2017
Contest fancy free
Sponsored by Julia Ward.

Copyright © Roy Pett | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |

Close-Minded Instead

I suppose this is what
Happens when I show you
What has gone through my
Heart and has touched my soul.

A story that you should 
Already know.
One of names and games
Played at the expense
Of a child who had 
The misfortune 
Of being born
At the wrong time and date.

He speaks of a branch
Grown on the wrong tree,
And if nothing else,
I thought,
This would be the story
That would speak to you,
For you are the branch.

But right now,
I feel as if it’s me.

Because when he is 
And the screen is blank
All you can say is 
And that you are confused.
But how,
I don’t know.

Have you been called 
Too many 4 letter words
Starting with the 3rd character
By a daughter who should already
Know better?

When you turned off 
Your heart
To the feelings she caused
Did you close off
Your mind as well?

This is the point 
Where I realize
It’s not you that I
Am mad or disappointed 
In, but

For thinking that 
You could see why
This is important 
To me.

Maybe I’m the
Close-minded one

Copyright © Kara McLain | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |

The Mother in the Woods

Staring at all the shadows of the west
putting all the rays of sun at test
stand the ugly face of the wood 
giving the best place under its hood

free from the worldly lives and vibes
the only one who eternally survives
the greenery signals with refreshing sight
welcoming the birdie tired from the flight

the gloom when blooms the florets smile
pleasant aura the bees sniff from a mile
pulling off the sweetest nectar of life
supply with the living fuel for the night

the chirping angel youngsters of the bird
every morning sounds louder for its call
for every gulp of food from the mothers hood
in the skeleton of the mighty wood

every creepy night passes with the thrill
of the the enemies flying from that hill
silent and discreet the life is not at ease
survival instincts gives the life the heat

crawling in the earth there comes a nerd
stares at the sky never sees the bird
bird is always scared not the woods are safe
fear grows within even time seems like cage

breathing the fresh air bestowed by the wood
survives his breath without which he never could
still in his mind the evil laughs the ugly laughter
should have been warm his heart has thorns of cactus

back from his pack he brings out a wedge
in the stony platform rubs and sharpens its edge
with no heart no regret he chops off the trunk
every hit stronger cries dying and eyes get shrunk

the ugly human face kills off his own soul
more ugly is the fate he knows his life toll
selfish is the world yet the woods always stood
that mother's love the child never understood

Copyright © Benup Guragain | Year Posted 2015

Details | Blank verse |

a christmas remembered

A Christmas Remembered 

Day before Christmas it was cold and we walked down 
to the harbour to buy a tree and I remember the sea 
that slapped against the dock was apple green and foamy. 
Mother bought a tree, for next to nothing, since its top 
was broken and it looked like a rejected child that waited 
for a car to come pick it up and bring it to the orphanage 
 By putting the tree on top of the dinner table and a star 
and a bit of glitter it looked nice in a child’s eye. 

Mother was angry we didn’t know way, and went to bed.
We children sat on the floor and ate lukewarm rice pudding 
and there was nothing under the tree. Mother got up told 
us to dress and we walked to my uncle’s house. At first he 
didn’t want to let her in, but when he saw us children he 
opened the door.  We had plenty to eat although my aunt 
had a sour mien. But happy we walked home and thought 
we had had a splendid Christmas.  

Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2012

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

Copyright © Jason Thomas | Year Posted 2007

Details | Prose Poetry |


Beneath the cold gray skies, proudly she stood.
Stripped bare, naked to the world—arms outstretched
To the world; unashamed, poised in anchored dignity,
She stood.

Through the peep-holes of window shades, eyes
Reached out—touching her beauty:
This ancient lady—an aged old tree—glorified
In the autumn of her life;

Now I stand atop this scenic autumn hill, glorifying
My ebony Mother—victimized, stripped bare of God given
Rights to be; yet, with arms outstretched, poised in anchored dignity,
This ebony queen mastered each day of the autumn of her life—Proudly 
An ebony Queen mastering each day in the vicious autumn of her life:
She stood.

Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |



Beneath the cold gray skies---proudly
She stood.
Stripped bare, naked to the world,  
Arms outstretched to the heavens,
Unashamed, poised in her Avatar dignity,
She stood.

Through the peep holes of windows
Eyes reached out touching her beauty:
This ancient lady, an aged old tree, glorified
In the autumn of her life.

So I glorify my ebony hued mother---stripped
Bare of her God given rights to be;
Arms raised, poised in her dignity, unashamed,
She stood:
Proudly mastering each day
In the autumns of her life.

Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |


She lay on the sofa,
Two arthritis pain pills nearby, 
Holding a thin romance book
With a thin plot involving
An empty heroine, an empty hero,
Explicitly but tastefully making love.

I’ve heard, she said, closing the book,
Marking her place with a folded handkerchief,
That books with graphic sex  
Can be awfully boring.
What are those tall trees across the street?

Georgia pines, we told her.   
She asked:  Is the tallest one the father,  
And the other two son and daughter?   
We laughed.  All siblings, we replied.
She looked doubtful.  Then she said:  
I’m convinced trees talk, I wish I knew what about.
Since I'm eighty now, I suppose 
I'll never understand tree language.
I also think each tree has a soul,
The way people do -- don’t you?

What’s the glossy dark green tree on the left?  
A magnolia, we said, almost an evergreen.
Remember magnolias from Maryland?
Smaller ones -- we called them sweet bays.

Yes, she said, and smiled.  Beautiful small magnolias
With creamy blossoms, up on the hill.   

There’s a weeping willow, she went on,
A happy bouncy willow.
Look how gracefully it bends in the breeze!  

March had a cruel surprise:    
Four inches of icy snow, bitter winds..
The willow perished.  
Later a bush appeared in its place,
But we kept on picturing the willow.    
Next they replaced the grove of pines 
With a tire shop.
A year later, the magnolia was felled, 
And the house behind it, too.
Six condos were quickly built, 
And marketed for a million dollars each.

Still, we'd see when looking across the street, 
Superimposed on the replacements, 
The willow, the magnolia, the pines.
Lovely tree ghosts:  They had greeted us kindly.

By then our mother wasn't on the sofa or reading.
She was bedridden, and couldn’t focus on books.
Despite her dying heart, we all three 
Changed our residence -- an enforced move.

We hope the tree ghosts are still intact and active,
We'll always think of them with affection,
But my sister and I don't plan to visit that block again.
Our mother is not alive any more, either,
But we doubt she’s a ghost, like the trees.
We consider that she is
Bound up forever in the bonds of eternal life.
All the same, at times we’ll be overcome
By a wave of goodness and warmth,
Amazing beauty and strength,
Incredible devotion.
Then, puzzled, we'll discuss what happened,  
And the only sane conclusion we can reach
Is that Mama had paid us a fleeting loving visit.

Copyright © Rita Janice Traub | Year Posted 2006

Details | Ballade |



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 bohemians who are honored
To finish their voyage
In the place they were born.

Walter William Safar

Copyright © Walter W. Safar | Year Posted 2011

Details | Chastushka |

MOTHER nature shops at thrift SHOPS by the amazing free cee


I watched the trees grow strong and tall
The rain and rainbows is how they were able to thrive
I’ve heard tell of one, but as for me I’ve never seen one fall
The only ones I stand among are vividly alive

The compost was years of dried up leaves and tears
The soil rich with nutrients that we may continue to grow
Each summertime we did that which we did
And in the windy and woeful winter each one of us simply hid

Hidden from the wind and the frost falling down
Hidden from the winter’s woeful wail
Those were the times Mother Nature wore a wine stained gown
And others when she wore second hand clothes on sale

Trees all around me with stories thus to tell
A thousand years old is quite a lengthy tale
Then one by one my fellow trees simply fell
Dead to end up a fence, a rod or a rail

With a thunderous thud my neighbor’s roots could hold that tree no more
The tallest of trees fell as a gasping and gaping crowd gathered around
If a tree falls but no one sees it does it make a noise when it hit’s the forest’s floor? 
Then I am the only tree when I fall, although all alone, everyone will still hear my sound
        © 2011.…Phreepoetree ~free cee!~

Copyright © jeffry cohan | Year Posted 2011