Best Birch Poems
Across horizons
From skies to Earth
Serenading within
Ancient wood
Enduring blossoms
Whisper abound
Time is trivial
Sunlight reigns
To time everlasting
Resonating life
A fullness of peace
In silence of shadows
A symbiotic citadel
Life undisturbed
birch silver
sibylline witch wood
leaves pristine
4/29/18
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
white keys of birch trees
black keys of spruces and pines -
music of twilight
8.20.2019
One Haiku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Rick Parise
Syllables Per Line: 5 7 5
Sycamores certainly speak French, cypresses - ancient Greek, the Old Testament's olives are bilingual: they speak Hebrew and Aramaic. Birch is a Russian tree though growing in Canada. So small and frail (they wither abroad), already gone into a winter trance, she is silent but she is silent à la russe. That's how silent bears in dens are, that's how drunkards listen to the voice of the devils dissolved in their blood, that's how old believers pray, that's how a poet meditates on his faraway homeland and, finally, that's how silent my girlfriend was, accompanying me to the airport. What are we doing here, you and me, between fall and winter, at the crossroad of four Canadian corners?
a hush of partings
of pursed lips and lonely hearts…
we should go home birch
10.12.2019
December Or January Haibun Contest Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Caren Krutsinger
A BIRCH TREE'S CONFIDENCE
A young tree stands tall
Rooted to the woodland floor
Thinks itself immune
To all the struggles in store
As ignorant as a child
THE WEEPING WILLOW'S LAMENT
In the end, all trees
Must surrender to decay
Seep into the dirt
Shut their eyes and slip away
It’s a fate none can escape
Birkenrinde / Birch Bark / Corteza de abedul (Haiku)
Die Birkenrinde
Wie hell sie so schön erstrahlt
Im hellen Lichtschein
The bark of birches
Shines so beautifully bright
In clear sunlight
Corteza de abedules
Tan maravillosamente brilla
En clara luz del sol
single silver birch
overlooks the whitened head stones
priest in black waiting.
Outside my window
birch tree in the summer sun
snow in summertime
White-covered ground.
Frozen all around.
Twenty feet tall white birch trees.
The only snow I see all around.
Yes, that's where he took me.
I begged as he said get down.
Get down on your knees.
I said please, I'm begging you, please.
He said I'm doing it to you.
What they done to me.
There I lay watching my spirit fly away.
As he just walked away.
Watching Fargo
11/ 23 / 2015 Monday 10: 55pm
Birke/Birch/Abedul
Im sanften Abendlicht
Wehen die Blätter der Birke
Goldfähnchen im Wind
In soft evening light
The leaves of the birch flutter
Golden banners in the wind
En suave luz de la tarde
Ondean las hojas del abedul
Banderitas de oro en el viento
------------------------------------
Wildgänse/Wild Geese/Gansos Salvajes
Im verlierendem Licht
Der schrille Ruf der Wildgänse
Vorbote des Winters
In a fading light
The shrill calls of wild geese
An early sign of winter
En una luz apagando
Agudos gritos de gansos salvajes
Precursor del invierno
Kormoran/Cormorant/Cormorán
Über tanzendem Schilf
Im hohen Baum auf der Lauer
Sitzt wartend der Kormoran
Above rocking reeds
A cormorant in his look-out
Lurking from a high tree
Sobre el cañaveral
En un alto árbol está al acecho
Un cormorán está esperando
The Birch
We’re hailed by changes of weather always
Pouring, wind, rain, gale and hurricane
Our dried barks and twigs easily departs
When they lavishly attack in season
Enchanting imbibe of full moon lights
We play with millions twinkling stars
Cloud travels vigilantly surrounding us
Flurry movement with smiling joyous
Various birds and sparrows nettles
In whole branches swinging whirling
Evening and morning chirping of them
Provides sweetened sleeping time gorgeous
Shelter we provide in all season to all
We don’t mind men, animal or phantom
Various insects joyfully abode us
Historical event many times with pride
Have written in our provision but
When started our birth in which reason
Far back to exact immemorial time
Turns upheavals appeared and vanished
Our races remained pervading always
Calamities various we have noticed
Dreadful volcanoes earth quakes floods
Devastation of habitation many times
We’ve seen horror of war stopping breath
Slowly but surely in the lapse of time
We came to contact with wise human beings
They knew the uses of our multiples
Fostering lives to driving enemies all
Houses to live making door windows
Ceiling, pillars, furniture other more
Decorative enchantment in festivals too
To cross the rivers with beautiful canoe plus
Fodders to animals to shoot for vegetables
Our fruits they contrived ordinary goods
Kinds and genres of our different
Familiar family Birch Betula Pendula
Mountain to plain everywhere our dwellings
Dwarf taller biggest eldest our findings
Greenish yellowish leafage luscious
Silvery skin beautiful to see and touch
Lovingly people composes writings on
Symmetry with wind when we blowing
Breeze pours joys producing sweet sound
Rustle hustle colliding leaves with twigs
Fountain signals us enamouring love present
Running gently humming with murmuring flush
Poet’s heart delights cheering the Birch
Gorgeous, vibrant unrivalled focus
History stands describing more about
Adding, idioms, phrases and anecdotes core
So old we’re in history self also
‘Veda’ describes us memorable Birch.
Tall, slender, supermodel tree,
elegant trunk dappled silvery milk.
Waif-like leaves dance in the breeze,
flirt and flutter, a skirt of silk.
Arms reach skyward, lean and long,
slim limbs covering sylph-like form.
Sinewy shoulders, but still strong,
stoop and sway in the surging storm.
Birds, taking cover, settle light,
build their nests and sing their songs,
squirrels scurry to highest height,
survey their kingdom, where they belong.
What tales could you tell, towering tree,
of flora, fauna, humans too?
What wisdom will you share with me?
I will listen with respect for you.
Ruth Mawdsley
September 2019
The white leather creaks
As damp pith breathes
Thin and strong
Against a solemn sky.
As branches again take
Punishment from northern winds
The trunk stands firm
Steeling itself for the assault ahead.
Straight despite the brutish
Harsh and relentless gusts
The leather flakes and peels
Like a snake shedding skin.
Ready for the new birth
Another year is coming
A cycle of the earth and sun,
Rain, wind, snow, all will befall it.
Evermore the silver birch
A symbol of strength through adversity
Stands tall with smoke like branches
Ready to add another ring to its life.
On the dry bed of old Birch Creek lay bones
Of deer picked clean by buzzards these stones
Forged a path for a thousand dances of the Sun
They came here for me I am the one
The last of my band to make my home
On the dry bed of old Birch Creek
On the dry bed of old Birch Creek I take
A deep drag from my pipe my son will make
His living packing meat in Great Falls
Far from here it is good for him but these cabin walls
Will ring no more with laughter of children at the break
Of dawn on the dry bed of old Birch Creek
Along the dry bed of old Birch Creek where Apisi
And I would run to see Grandfather ready
For the hunt in the days the buffalo
Were a thick fog on the plain oh how we longed to go
With Father and Grandfather who would wave to me
As the band moved out along the dry bed of old Birch Creek
On the dry bed of old Birch Creek I pass
The days smoking drinking waiting but at last
The Great White Father's rations arrive
My boy joined the Army and now must survive
The white man's war in France
Better he die fighting than conquered on the dry bed of old Birch Creek
September 16, 2016