Best Fir Poems
The little fir tree was feeling extremely sad
it was tiny compared to its mum and its dad
When people saw the tree they just walked away
and chose a much larger tree for their Xmas display
The wind helped the fir tree waggle its branches
and the tree tried so hard to get admiring glances
Sadly people said ‘that tree’s much too small,
it wouldn’t look right in our lounge or the hall’
All of a sudden the little tree became aware
of a disabled young lad in a motorised chair
Peter beamed when he saw the little fir tree
and said ‘mum this tree is perfect for me’
His mother said ‘Peter are you really sure
there’s lots to see, we could look at more’
Peter said to his mum ‘this little tree is ideal
and when its decorated, your heart it will steal’
Peter said ‘mum, it will be so easy for me
I’ll be able to decorate this little fir tree
We’ll buy baubles from the Christmas shop
and I can reach to put the gold angel on top’
The store man overheard the boy’s conversation
and was so impressed by Peter’s determination
He waived the purchase price of the little tree
Peter left the store smiling, he was very happy
Peter decorated the little tree all on his own
and it took pride of place in their cosy home
His mother’s so proud of her determined boy
and the little fir tree gave them so much joy.
Submitted to "X" Contest, New or Old
Sponsored by Constance La France
12/3/18
Below a Douglas Fir tree one beautiful moonlit night
I sat there with my Missy as we viewed a lovely sight
The aurora borealis was lighting up the sky
Then something to my right suddenly caught my eye
A gem from outer space tore across the cobalt blue
Leaving behind a trail a quite spectacular view
Two in trapped capture witnessing a shooting star
We wonder where it came from, out there from afar
We sat there for ages chatting about the sight we seen
Phenomena such as this are generally seen in dreams
Below the Douglas Fir tree that beautiful moonlit night
We marvelled at it's arrival as it disappears from sight
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love-13.php
At first sight of first snow colour
Scrapbook memories stir with folk within
Where spirits of love, caring, and sharing were
Whispers of our life we shared, brings wet tears that blur
Of the old farmhouse toasty and warm within-doors
Stipend oak wood was fed into its heart to burn
Fiery amber, yellow, and reds comforting flames would flicker
Crackling, sputtering sound of burning cinders
Wisps of oak mixed with ma’s cooking would journey
Shimmying up its way through the chimney
Outside world had been cloaked in a white glittery sheen
A heartwarming Snowman was always seen
Decked out in his red scarf and top hat beaming
By the front porch greeting passersby
Red Birds perched and rustle the winter evergreens
Conifer and denuded trees would unfurl a story book scene
We would peek out the window when pa honked the horn
On his 1940s green worn out pickup to warn
He was back with a fresh cut noble fir for Christmas morn
11/28/2016
Here I grow, a handsome fir tree,
Standing upright within my wood;
An innocent, then let me be.
Where now I thrive for all to see,
Strobilus stemmed out of the bud;
Here I grow, a handsome fir tree.
Today I prosper, living free,
As streaming sap spawns my lifeblood;
An innocent, then let me be.
Forever green and wild are we,
My friends and I'd age if we could;
Here I grow, a handsome fir tree.
The gentle breeze may hear my plea
And listen to me as it should;
An innocent, then let me be.
So, man is come to sever me,
To rob me of my livelihood.
Here I grow, a handsome fir tree
An innocent, then let me be.
Alan S Jeeves
Color me Douglas Fir Green;
I feel so feathery-branched.
My constitution is supreme;
My core competes with oaks.
I was built to last and stand tall;
I cannot say as well of cousin spruce.
Taken for granted;
the human species, mows me down;
I become boxes for habitation.
My strength is a human weakness;
Over time, I’ll disappear,
I must to shelter my nemesis.
The human species uses my kind;
we can’t defend against
their growling weapons.
Humans build deadly weapons,
They’ll eat right through my soul;
I am only a defenseless tree.
12-28-19
I am a tree Poetry Contest
Delilah Ventura
THE WIND, THE FIR AND THE ROSE
While the wind walks up and down the village,
all the time at the same speed,
I looked at that fir,
bent down to the ground by the wind.
It must be very, very old,
but it's still so beautiful and
dignified.
And the wind, the prince of Freedom,
looked at the wild rose
and started to caress her red face,
asking her
to agree
that he might propose to her
to get engaged.
The rose suspiciously listened to it
bending its head a little from time
to time.
Now the wind bends the fir tree to the ground again,
so it might say a few words on his behalf,
and the fir tree started fondling the face of that village beauty
with a motherly tenderness,
showering drops of a bygone rain all around her,
- glistening on her noble face like pearly dew -
so that the rose might have its grace as a dowry,
and the rose majestically nodded to the
prince of Freedom,
like a princess of love,
agreeing to become the princess of Freedom.
And I thought:
“If men could only bend to the ground so easily,
like a fir tree,
there would be more love left for all of us.”
© 2010 Walter William Safar
scent of fir on breeze..
quiet rustle in bushes
rabbit blends with snow
snap of broken branch
snow drifts down to forest floor...
sleeping bear stretches
For Charles' haiku contest
Hot as fire, firm as fir.
That's what women would prefer.
Volodymyr Knyr
2017
On the tall table
Resides a small Christmas tree
With a Santa hat
When his eyes open to show
The vacant stare of plastic
Your Christmas fir was small and new,
When planted in the ground for you;
Once potbound, then its roots were free.
You stroked its branches, cuddled me:
I thought it felt like déjà vu.
I watched it as it slowly grew,
Though evergreen, its air was blue,
Not happy as it used to be,
Your Christmas fir.
Your love was dying, yes, I knew,
But what was I supposed to do?
Each time we fought, so sad to see,
All seemed reflected in the tree;
It turned to brown when we were through,
Your Christmas fir.
*The fir I'd planted started off well, but soon looked sorry for itself, and died after the relationship ended
People take you from a forest.
You are young and very beautiful,
unhappy brides of strong egoists!
They keep you for a few short nights,
and they decorate you
in glittering ornaments
for their own pleasure.
But when their festivities are done,
they remove from you
the fine ornaments,
and they throw you into the street.
Someone silently, silently cries
in the thinned forest.
Your sisters in white snow clothes
pray and hope to have
other, happier destinies.
Don’t you see,
A battle rages
Away above the grasses
The mighty trees throw spears of air
And bend to dodge the blades
Or cones where thrown by lordly pines
As cut by edges hewn like hands;
These lush and greening splays
Appendages of bows
The warriors, donned of moss and fir
Snarled locks of black twisted fur
A fir away from where I stood
In the close air, it's stirring
No shelter from what's good
She looks to me with tired eyes
Inside are shades of countryside
The sand and rocks of which she spies
Into her, unto me, this world resides
What can one say to a wild thing?
Nothing is truly understood,
Yet we want for a song to sing,
Blurs the lines between bad and good
However close we're aiming to be
We can't be nearer to the meaning of free
Let's
deck
the hall
at Christmas-
in colourful cones.
snow-swathed fir trees
glistening in the full moon glare...
in the silent night
December 11, 2022.