Best Dogwood Poems
I was a youngster when my sight began to realize,
When I viewed a tree of flowers that grew across the road.
Whereas this time of beauty was forming within my eyes,
Where the shapes and lines are made from the clay that memories mold.
A flower on the tree branch seemed to bloom before my sight.
Sacred bloom was a symbol of where Jesus had been nailed,
The central color brown in midst of petals of pure white.
Yet, my eyes saw baby Jesus; and my soul had been unveiled.
The blood and lapis daylight sets
in ether. How the mind resets
brutality of winter chill
with February's codicil;
what gossamer a dream begets.
I hear the crickets in the dark,
their clicking takes up where the lark
has been. The flagrant marigolds
have huddled into twilight's folds,
on sanguine nightfall to embark.
The eastern zephyrs fall and rise
with rapid movement of my eyes
and echo whispers midnight makes
of blood white trails on moonlit lakes.
In silhouette I recognize
a dogwood, though can only sense
its glowing coral consequence.
The blossoms tell me they comprise
sweet spawn of sun rays in disguise
and capture all my heartbeats hence.
Now honeysuckle is entwined
on crisscrossed pathways of my mind
with jasmine in a potpourri
to conjure shamrock reverie
that leaves the pewter scape behind.
Around the lambent dogwood tree
alone upon that verdant lea
buds can prosper, bees will hum.
As though seduced by opium
I greet a vista I can't see,
at least not quite. I know it's there
and feel the dogwood everywhere,
behind me, flanking left and right,
an omnipresence in the night,
like answers to unconscious prayer.
Now high upon a clovered scarp
the tree is standing clear and sharp.
In silence I see restless blooms
play music that my ear assumes
is chiming dulcet as a harp.
Such Efflorescent star bursts splay
like windmills on a gusty day
that in ebullience do portend
a vibrance that will never end
and all my reticence allay.
In waking to a winter storm
that's February's gelid norm
I long still for my fulgid tree,
resplendence that surrounded me,
but only meet a turbid swarm.
I rise and pull back hermit drapes
to see the torrid flurries traipse,
yet through the chaos can discern
the leafless frame for which I yearn
beyond the window storming scrapes.
The dogwood stands just as before
unclad upon the icy moor
with nascent berries undeterred
as though through humble verse and word
like daylight through an unclosed door.
2/23/18
Strength Thru Adversity
Gregory R. Barden
"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~
In the dark of the meadow,
Under a tall dogwood tree,
Swinging to and fro,
Is where you'll find me.
Silent - not a sound will I make.
Still - not a breath will I take.
Asleep - never to awake.
In the shadow of fate I'm forever hidden,
Where the light of day is strictly forbidden.
So if you care to find me,
This is where I'll be,
Swinging to and fro,
Hanging from the dogwood tree...
THE DOGWOOD TREE
Legend says of the Dogwood tree
That on it, Christ was crucified
His blood was shed for you and me
When the soldier pierced His side
The blood that ran from His feet and hands
And the crown upon His brow
Was all a part of God's great plan
Two thousand years ago – and now
The petals on the Dogwood tree
Form a tiny cross
The brown stains you can clearly see
Represent the blood He lost
As this Dogwood tree is planted
Our thoughts are filled with pity
For the victims and the families
Who were bombed in Oklahoma City
Let this tree be a tribute
To the Man the world crucified
And to those in Oklahoma City
For whom this same Man died
And when you view this Dogwood
Think of those who died
Not only in Oklahoma City
But also the one crucified
This was written for inclusion in a memorial service conducted at Carl Vinson VA Medical
Center in Dublin, Georgia for the victims in the Oklahoma City bombing incident. A
Dogwood tree was planted in their commemoration on May 19, 1995 at 9:02 a.m.
Curtis Moorman
May 16, 1995
My favorite flower comes from the dogwood tree
Which just blooms only one time each year in the South which is at Easter
Now the petals are called “bracts” and the center contains it‘s “blossoms”
And the “bracts” can range from white to pink to an almost red color
But that’s not what makes that tree so significant to me.
It’s amazing to me that if you look closely at the dogwood flower
That you can see the resemblance of the cross
Because on each “bract” you can plainly see
Bloodstained nail prints of brown and rust stained with red
And then the “blossoms” of it contain what looks like a crown of thorns.
It’s also amazing just to think
How it’s “blossoms” bloom before Easter every year
It must be one of God’s miracles that is unexplainable
And then it stays in full bloom for three weeks
Kind of like Jesus was in the grave three days
Have you ever thought that a week could of been a day in God’s timing.
A splash of white rises in blossoms tall
On the Dogwood trees near the stone wall
They have been growing year to year
Now they have bloomed with spring cheer
Decorated in white surrounded by green
They are shining to fill in this beautiful scene
Heidi Sands
5/12/18
A Dogwood tree I planted
In a sunny spot
While the birds were singing
And the sun was oh so hot
It reminded me of you Love
White and pointed flowers
And oh so fragrant its smell
The nostrils infused for hours
The bees and butterflies
Wafted gracefully by
To sip of its pollen
None of them too shy
And oh how lovely
A Dogwoods' flowers
Like white stars pinned on a tree
Picked from the skies at night
And glued so gracefully
Of all the trees I admire Love
I truly love Her so
Except in the winter
When her blossoms
Disappear beneath the snow.
when we
under dogwood
with my dear brother played
martin and lewis our old idols
just us
Watercolor sketch
Of a dogwood flower on
Your sun-kissed shoulder
Sangria toned, calls my lips
Regret turns sweetness bitter
July 3, 2017
Four red-tipped petals
On each blossomed branch retells
His death til he comes.
WHEN THE DOGWOOD IS IN BLOOM AND THE RANGE HAS TURNED TO GREEN
I WILL RIDE YOUR WAY AGAIN LIKE THE HAPPY VISION IN YOUR DREAM.
WITH THE SUN SHINING ON MY BACK ON THE TRAIL LEADING TO YOUR DOOR
I WILL COME BACK TO YOU ALWAYS IN YOUR HAPPY MEMORIES AS BEFORE.
YOU REMEMBER HOW I WORE MY HAT? SLIGHTLY TILTED TO THE SIDE?
AND HOW I ALWAYS SAT TALL IN THE SADDLE WHENEVER I WOULD RIDE?
I COULD SEE YOU WAITING THERE AND I WOULD SIT TALLER THAN A KING
MY PRIDE WOULD SWELL AND I HAD TO SMILE KNOWING YOU WORE MY RING.
WE SWAM IN THAT LITTLE BLUE HOLE BENEATH THE COTTONWOOD TREES
THEN LAY ON A BLANKET STARING AT THE STARS IN LOVE YOU AND ME.
THE HOURS WOULD PASS LIKE MINUTES AS YOU LAY THERE IN MY ARMS
I THANK GOD EACH AND EVERY DAY YOU GRACED ME WITH YOUR CHARMS.
WE TOOK LONG WALKS HAND IN HAND THROUGH THE FIELDS OF WILD FLOWERS
CHASING COTTONTAIL RABBITS AND RED SQUIRRELS TO THEIR HIGH TOWERS.
WE PUT UP THE CORN IN THE SUMMER AND GATHERED PECANS IN THE FALL
LIFE WITH YOU MY DARLING WAS WONDERFUL AS I ALWAYS WILL RECALL
DON’T WEEP FOR ME BUT REMEMBER THE GOOD TIMES THAT WE HAD TOGETHER
AND RECALL WHEN WE WALKED HAND IN HAND IT WAS ALWAYS FINE WEATHER
SO PUT ON MY COAT AND SIT ON THE PORCH AND CLOSE YOUR PRETTY EYES
I’LL COME RIDING TO YOU WHENEVER YOU WISH JUST WATCH OVER THE RISE.
Dog
Wood
Dogwood
Dogwood Tree
Many white blooms in spring
Four petals have blood drops on each
These are Christ's head, hands, and feet with the center red berries
Being the bloody crown that was placed on his beautiful brow that drouped in the pain, heat
May fashions days it will unveil;
and there exists one which I hail.
For me, it stands out from the rest-
for proof May came- it is the best.
Outside my window, grows a tree
that blooms each year- now fifty-three.
When dogwood blossoms open wide-
May bares her beauty- amplified.
May 6, 2022
Contest: A Lay For A Day In May
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
silty fleece cloaks bough
snowy dander flitters round
rite of spring christened