Best Branches Poems
Memories on branches live on and on -
multiplying since the world’s first dawn.
Fresh and beautiful in spring are we -
buds that blossom on our family tree.
We all need a place to build upon.
Memories on branches will still live on
even though - like summer birds - one day
we may leave our nest and fly away.
Busy we may be, but in the fall,
we’ll look back and tenderly recall
memories on branches have still lived on -
bright like leaves that decorate our lawn.
Winter’s snow covers us as we grow frail.
Yet through our posterity, we know well
what we’ve lived through never will be gone.
Memories on branches live on and on.
For the Memories Poetry Contest of Nayda Ivette Negron
I am sure you can hear me weep
Autumn - I will let you sleep
As you look death in the eye - through heavenly eyed
I am with you always - sound of leaves falling silently - unimaginably tired
Naked, forsaken cold and bleak
Winter allows the soil and the plants sleep
During the winter snow and dark gray cloud
The rivers have been frozen - King Winter is proud
I hear the birds playing my song
Spring - throw winter clothes - it was not wrong
Apple blossoms sprouts and clear blue sky
This makes me so happy - wish I could fly
Lightweight shoes and golden hair
A smile on your face - so easy to care
Summer is here - feet in the hot sand
Flowers and butterflies ... oh ... I love my land
26.02.2014
A-L Andresen :)
Slowly, gracefully your leaves dance in the early morning breeze,
gold edges winking seductively as they pirouette past reaching limbs.
Like blazing dreams they mesmerize me as the sun glimmers silver
against the mazarine sky, teasing me as they tickle past.
Fragrant petals glitter waking sunlight that slowly dries the dew
upon the delicate stamen lashes in your compassionate blue eyes.
Bright and gentle, they watch as the shadows creep slowly through the forest
gazing upon each tiny detail, the changing hues, each movement, and me.
I can feel them watch me, caress me and, sometimes angry, burn me,
but as quickly, your bud drips its viscous nectar to cool the seething flames
and you quiver your branches in chiding whispers of reproaching laughter
as I sulk like a child enveloped in your caring, calming, airy shade.
I lean against your smooth lovely bark and you soothe me.
Long and tall reaching to touch the pillows at the tender feet of heaven,
your slender leafy fingertips spread above me shading my heavy, moist brow.
Though older than I your timeless wisdom entices and allures me.
Oh beautiful gentle tree, how easily could I love you.
03/18/17
How did a cherry kiss? Bitter flower petals with sweet pistils.
So laden they act as halos while we breathe the love
in a pink hollow, silence sounding like taste, acting like epistle
to hold this moment in a silvery image, like moon, or dove
low, low, a bowl formed while sunshine flickers above.
Chains of yellow petals hang over our deck, the leaves hands--
offer welcome resting branch, our sheltered home.
Seeds follow close, fragile like beans, hard case to feed the land
crawl before God, they say, be grateful as we weed and stir loam.
Together seeds and flowers and hands make a life a poem.
Awaiting the sumac, the flame at summer's ending is fruitless
we've passed the feathering, the pimping of red underneath bristle
the deer horn softness crawling out in oddest places in a mess
lining the sand pond, above the purpled iris, the pestle
of stone and sun, no rain to bring down sumac's fiery trestle.
Vulturous crows squawk and fight the ring-billed sea gulls
waiting, one in the bared hollow hands of the cottonwood
the other fat-bellied and waddling after rain finally dulls
we're under hoodies, under shivers, our neighborhood
waits the pinking and mossing, will it unfurl new wood?
Human trees embrace,
Making an erotic breeze:
Tousled by true love.
Gray is gray
Cold is cold
The beginning of winter
The winters hold....
Empty branches
Emptier hands
Living but dying
Without any plans
Breathing; beating....
Seeing
The best that you can?!
Seeing
Being
This barren land....
Gray is gray
Cold is cold
The midst of winter
Your growing old
Drying rivers....
Drier eyes
Another day closer
To the end, of your time!?
Time
Closer....
To the cold, inside
The dead of winter
The death of a life
The death in a world
That is dying; they cry....
Gray is gray
Cold is cold
The end of winter
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The winters, toll?!
Note: A retro repose from the
Winter of 06 & 07, I believe?
"'Love,' Always," John!:) ~
Scrumptious sight of prairies and grass
Ardent beaming of flower buds and buzzing bees
Leafless coils, branches of trees become alive
Hastening! Arousing everyone's joy and vive
Everyone happy on cheerful springtime!
A cotillion trips and chirps of jolly birds
From some distance, I have started to heard
Fantastic shun and kisses of pretty butterflies
Tempting all species of flora and fauna to thrive
Welcoming, beckoning the heat of summertime!
First crisp of breeze, creating dew in morning
Canopy of red and orange leaves from branches, enchanting!
Turning the world into a canvass of nature's brush
Unnoticeable, such romantic dash making anyone blush
Revel, embrace the sweet amorous season of autumn!
Solid chilling raindrops of snowflakes
Giving warning: careful during breaks
Covering branches, bringing icy cold aches
Yet, skiing an exhilarating cool escape
Delight in the coolness ambiance of winter!
BY
olive_eloi
2:22 pm
02/26/2014
CONTEST: MEMORIES ON BRANCHES
SPONSOR: GAIL ANGEL DOYLE
4TH PLACE
Lament
Brooding days,
Vanquished in the unconnected gloom,
Shower frost,
Standing watch at dawn to pierce the morning
With an artic tempest,
Swirling ‘cross a land lost in forgetfulness:
Sighing
Beneath borderless views of snow unbroken,
Where nothing dare disturbs
The unchanging vision
But a single line of footprints
When skies of grey and bleaker daylight
Lean so close to earth
They lay their heaviness upon a homeless wood sprite
Wandering in the raw breath of twilight dawning,
Caught by phantom gusts
Spiraling down,
Shivering as the brumaled wind
Runs its fingers
Through the marrow of the soul
Where slumber languishes,
Icebound
As plodding steps
Frantically searching groves of tangled silver linden,
Pursued
And haunted
By the relentless midnight sun;
Errant fugitive,
Followed by the wispy remnants of a golden morning,
Trembling
As barren aspen branches
Beneath bright errant bursts of fiery lights -
Racing
Across
The northern sky -
Taunting
Tortured
Eyes
Seeing only to remember;
Grasping
For a single crocus
Plunged into yearning
Until the boreal shadows
Touch
The depth of darkness
Bidding nordic sprite to sit,
To rest,
Curled up against a frozen birch of black and white,
Taking final flight on tattered winds
Heralding the touch of sunlight.
Godspeed my friend
Like branches of a rooted, sturdy tree
a family survives, each limb entwined,
to grow and nurture- embrace happily
the joyfulness and sufferings combined.
On sunny days the branches lift to find
the beauty of blue skies and sparkling air.
On stormy ones, a teary, rain-like prayer
of joint compassion lightens up the blow.
Both difficult and easy times they share,
united through life's ceaseless ebb and flow.
Stones stand erect like sentries keeping guard
as I walk alone, with tear in my eye,
through this deserted cemetery yard.
In the back corner stands my father’s grave;
I sadly reminisce the days gone by,
and all the memories my mind does save.
Robbed by old age, my father’s mind was shut;
upper tree branches left to question why.
Strong and sturdy the lower branches, but
barren branches of a willow tree die.
June 11, 2018
Contest: Rhyme Time 4 - 10 Lines
Sponsor: Laura Loo
I remember well the walks we took, along the river's bed
We pledged our love beneath wild oaks, as leaves were turning red
The morning fresh with sparks of dew so softly dripping down
that sprinkled teardrops on our heads, like diamonds in a crown.
A crimson sky, as colors changed, would quickly say goodbye
would come as no surprise to us, though the season swooned to cry.
We'd bundled warm, then stroll along, still charmed by nights of love
while branches of the autumn trees, would scatter light above
The trees would shed their amber leaves,...gold changed from rust to brown
and as we walked, I do recall, the change of season's sound
The silence of each season fell, and all the green was gone
And then in snow, the nights would fall, and branches pillowed high
Our muffled footsteps, walked through lace of winter's lullaby
We'd still hold hands, and through the gloves, I felt the love you held
Beneath the boughs, the snow came down, until the springtime fell
It finally came, while blossoms sprang, quite captured in the spell,
and budding boughs, held fragrant scent, and somehow birds could tell...
A robin sang, to welcome us, and meadow larks were heard
The petals flew upon the wind, and soon the green returned
A breeze announced the changing guard, and summer was disturbed
We would sit, while petals fell, and catch them from above
Our shelter in the seasons past.......at last had christened love
_______________________________
3/7/14 By Carrie Richards
Written for "Memories On Branches" contest
Autumn trees stand forboding
With their skeletal branches,
Silhouettes in pale moonlight,
Like witches fingers.
Written 1st October 2020.
For Writing Challenge - Dodoitsu - poetry Contest.
Sponsored by Constance La France.
Cuddled in complacency
Assuring herself nothing will change
She is content
Personified oak
Wrapped in warm bark
Warm reassuring branches
Perfect husband
Happy children
Wonderful life
911 happens
To her
Tearing her limb from limb
Judicial Branch
Legislative Branch
Executive Branch
Jesus Is the Vine.
I am the branch, Jesus is the vine.
For I am his, and he is mine.
To remain in him,
I'll bear good fruit.
This is God's command so absolute.
God, the gardener, comes
to trim and to prune.
For he wants me to
blossom and to bloom.
Bearing good fruit is his upmost desire,
For every bad branch will
be thrown into the fire.
Engrafted in Jesus...HIS joy I'll receive.
he's my very best friend
who will never leave.
By obeying his commands,
in his love, I'll abide.
For if I'm truly in him-
I'll have nothing to hide!
Living for Jesus, will be my true pleasure.
For HE is my vine, my rock, and my treasure!
By Jim Pemberton