Best Fir Tree Poems
Look up! Snowflakes appear in streetlights
Hear children cheer as snow days are announced
Watch the powder fly during snowball fights
Listen as faith through joyful hymns is pronounced
Join snow angel brigades while on wintery landscapes we pounce
Walk briskly with me through the winter woods
Where boughs of evergreens droop with white frost
Don your boots and pull up your jacket hood
Let’s slide on the lake until our energies exhaust
Then trudge back home as snow drifts are crossed
Place damp clothes on a chair by the fireside
Pour a glass of wine and snuggle with me
Whispers of passion, ‘neath a blanket confide
Lights from the fir tree fill our hearts with glee
As you offer me your ring on bended knee
Biting winds and swirling flakes of snow had finally abated
We surveyed the deep drifts, which lay on the fields
The silvery moon peeped through the clouds and lit our way
It was bitterly cold, but the pitiful sound of bleating spurred us on
Some friends and neighbours had joined us – we had no time to lose!
Grabbing our spades we worked tirelessly throughout the night
Digging out the sheep and tiny lambs one by one
Their fleeces were matted with tiny icicles
As dawn broke we had rescued all but one of our precious flock
Suddenly our trusty sheepdog Shep started barking
We trudged to where he was frantically pawing at the snow
Our hearts lifted as we pulled the final sheep out alive
At last it was time for us to return to the farmhouse
In the distance I could see gold and silver lights sparkling
and scintillating on the Douglas fir tree in church in the village.
I raised my eyes to heaven and gave thanks.
A Winter Poem
Sponsor Shadow Hamilton
Required words
silver, gold, sparkling, flakes, icicles, drifts and spades
12~02~16
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
Another Christmas season has arrived, at last
and like so many others from Yuletides past,
I'm glad some things have remained unchanged
Although the furniture has been rearranged.
Across the room, a fire crackles and burns
Jenny has grown; for love, her heart yearns
I recall when all she wanted was a baby doll
and skates for the new ice rink in the mall
I've been unpacked in just enough time to see
my family hanging ornaments upon their fir tree.
Garlands of holly berries and popcorn strung
The green velvet stockings beneath me are hung
There's gingerbread scent and carols on the radio
Dad sneaked a kiss from Mom under the mistletoe
The angel nods to me as she's lifted into place
atop the tree. She once told me her name is Grace.
There's old Kaci, the collie, fast asleep on his rug
Grandpa looks sad. I wish I could give him a hug
Mom is headed for the mantle to give me a shake
She's always gentle, taking care I don't break.
I was a gift from her Mom on Christmas, long ago
when she had asked Santa to please bring her snow,
but snow didn't fall in the South where she resided.
I was the closest thing Santa had lovingly provided
Tears fill Mom's eyes as my snow starts to flurry
I've become a bit cloudy and that makes her worry,
but I'll see her smile again Christmas Eve night
when she puts me in Jenny's stocking by fire light.
December 15, 2020
Christmas Poems ~ Old or New
Sponsored by ~ Constance La France
The Birch tree said, I want to be a Christmas tree
The Balsam Fir tree said, you can’t be, you’re a Birch
The Birch tree said, I am white as snow, yes I can
The Maple tree said, find a purpose, I make syrup
The Oak tree said in agreement, I feed the squirrels
Then, the squirrels nearby could hear the chatter
Feeling bad for the Birch tree, they decided to gather
They collected acorns and strung them with blades of grass
They hung them around the Birch tree as perfect garland
Then the Blue Jay gathered some Holly Berries too
The Eagle put together some special leaves for a star
Soon, the Birch was a Christmas tree, gleaming from afar!
Heidi Sands
12/8/18
Placed 4th in the premiere Christmas tree poetry contest.
Return again warm glow of Christmas past,
Rekindle precious times I hold so dear.
Transport me back and let my mind be cast
On golden memories of yesteryear.
A fir tree trimmed with fragile fairy lights
Illuminates an angel’s modest smile,
The mystery of secret gifts excites,
Though childhood dreams must slumber yet awhile.
Outside, a serenade of Christian souls
Regales our hearts with warm uplifting voice;
‘Oh little town of Bethlehem’ extols
The Saviour who gives reason to rejoice.
And those I’ve loved commemorate once more
The wonder of those Christmases of yore.
15/10/18
*
I
am
Christmas
in a fir tree,
I was born wild,
in a boreal forest.
And I never imagined,
that I would end up lit up,
my branches holding decorations.
I was about strength and about courage,
a river flowed past me since I was a young.
Now, I am tranquility and serenity in my death,
a symbol of Christmas, twinkling in the living room.
My branches like a quiet violin crying, you can hear them falling
I gave
to life
all the
soul I
had in me, all these years, trembling in the wind, the sun, the rain
and snow. My reward for being majestic is my death ... how cruel!
I rested under the snow and placed on a cloak of pure white beauty,
then ... in the Spring my roots felt the black earth and I dug deeper.
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
"Kris Kringle Kisses Kalliope"
A Dream: the 4th Christmas.
deck the halls
with memories
poets whisper pasts
that are ne’er forgotten
where presents
a life
that’s neatly wrapped
and attempts at
frostily forgotten
tucked under
that big
beautiful
green fir tree
where all the dreams
of poets go
gold starred, tinselled
and angel mounted
ripe cherries
kissed
crassly
under mistletoe
Ah Christmas
capture me up
in your safe
magic arms
let me sip
the nectar from
your sweet eggnog cups
like Puck’s flower flows
on sultry lips
and eyelids
“love-in-idleness”
"The juice of it
on sleeping eyelids laid
will make man
or woman
madly dote
upon the next
live creature
that it sees”
poet or pup
crimson berries crushed
against a velvet tongue
bedazzled and
bewitched
fires crackling
logs like legs
drop and wrap around
the flames
while in my dreams
I await beneath
the sugar coated
blankets of a bed
charmed by snowflakes
dusting houses in a row
through misted windows
where “paper people....
dream
their cardboard dreams”
“how unreal
the whole thing seems
can we be living in a world
that is made of paper mache?
Everything is clean
and so neat
anything that is wrong
can be just swept away”
inside is very still...
not shaken
like a snowglobe -
surreal
damned be
the dams of
Love-in-Idleness
where eyes reflect
your shadow
in my dream
like opium smoke
across cracked glass
remember how we
all once were
some beautiful happy
if we could just pull the chord
so fresh out of ...
class
rewind our time
rewind it
to yesterday
like a toy
across the
ocean bobbing
like a buoy
an Iceberg keens and cries
Nutcracker twirls
Sugarplum
Kris Kringle Kisses
Kalliope
Oberon...
reals
Titania in
Slo mo’
Magic
mmm
Romance
lacy
frosty
melting
snow.
An iceberg cries
in time with
Christmas eyes
(LadyLabyrinth/ 2020)
“Paper Mache” / Dionne Warwick
https://youtu.be/85TK2Bia6w8
"There must have been some magic in
That old top hat they found
For when they placed it on his head
He began to dance around"
We were poor, but my brother and I didn’t know it.
Before Christmas my dad would take us to find just the right scraggly
fir tree..a wonderful afternoon tramping around in the woods.
Old and worn decorations..we were delighted to open the crate
and unpack them; it was like seeing old and beloved friends again.
The red velvet car was my favorite.. his a bedraggled Santa sled.
We always had a present or two..but the most exciting gifts were
in our stockings. The stockings were my dad’s work socks..washed
and pressed for the occasion. They hung with pride, beautiful to us.
One year I got a fishing pole in my stocking. It was stuck through
a hole in the heel. I thought that Santa was the cleverest
of men. Imagine..using that hole to my advantage!
My dad’s boss would give us the same thing year after year.
A crate of oranges, something we never had at any other time.
I can still see the juice on my hands as we devoured that special gift.
I wouldn’t trade those Christmas memories. The greatest gift was feeling
warm, and safe…and loved.
First Christmas without you, my dearest, my love
Cruelly taken too soon on the wings of a dove
How can I rejoice when my heart broke in two
Those memories still vivid of my last days with you
No holly, no ivy are decking the hall
No Christmas cards; no Christmas tree; nothing at all
Awakening early on this Christmas day morn
I watch the sun rising, for it’s just before dawn
The full moon is shining, like a beacon from afar
And very close to me there is a twinkling, silver star
I am pulled towards my garden as the dawn begins to break
And gently wipe sleep from my eyes; I need to be awake
The moon shines down so brightly, as if to celebrate
Illuminating my old Fir tree, adorned with snowflakes twinkling at me
I venture closer to my tree to witness tiny birds a fluttering
A nightingale perched on the top, a joyous song she’s uttering
I watch this magical scene unfold in wondrous disbelief
and dabbing tears of joy and love with my Christmas handkerchief
That twinkling, silver star is Venus; known as the Goddess of love
I feel your love enveloping me as she twinkles and sparkles above
For somehow Mother Nature has, in all her Christmassy glory
Gifted me a happy end to my grief-stricken Christmas story
Written 10th December 2018
Competition: Christmas Tree
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
5th place in Premier Contest
Contest A BRIAN STRAND COUPLET
Sponsor Brian Strand
FIRST PLACE
Nascent pristine hopes sprout stealthily
from the submerged swamps of anxieties,
parched earth frets over consequences
to fuel naive hopes into realities of void
burdened with the clutter of aged promises,
fervent wind denies hope to flourish
effervescence of faith sustains the sapling.
I shiver at my failed encounters,
lost desires from broken promises;
you radiate truth with a divine Aurora
calming my perturbed oceans of scars,
soothing whispers dissolving delusions.
Your promise of a love that lasts forever
blooms with my infant hope born yet again
in my ancient orchard of disappointments,
perhaps hope is an everlasting promise too.
When my hallucinations overtake my existence
you bridge my fantasies with visible world
and fuse my bliss with your intuition.
Unfulfilled promises, superfluous allegations
in a world where none volunteers to be a promise.
You erase my hazy visions of torn pages
and color them with your dripping love.
Two parallel waves in unison moving forth
rising with crests and falling with troughs
merging in the tranquility of a shore afar
next to the ocean enchanted by seagulls
guiding my lost spirit in storms with your light.
My hopes have grown into a lush fir tree
swaying with your glistening smiles.
You become my universe peeking into imaginations
of my stories, melodies, musings at nights;
and when I return to reality you wait
with my sublime corner by your side,
my book of musings flourishes by your essence.
Perhaps humans should keep their promises,
I believe theirs too get fulfilled someday.
I smile every time the fir tree drenches me
dissolving the fragrance of musk-soaked love
in raindrops and snowflakes of your promise--
To be the love that retains the existence of
everlasting hope in this world-- your promise..
May 28, 2020
The Promise Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Silent One
Winner: First Place
BRIAN'S CHOICE Z,any form,any theme Poetry Contest
Winner: Honorable Mention
Shades of leaves wavering from mauve to ember
colour my lavender spirits in days of November.
When lustrous autumn blankets silently reap,
my glorious desires in ecstasy drench me deep.
A corridor of withering dandelions in dreams
simmers soothing secrets in glistening beams.
Every year I wait for soothing serenade of fall
it wraps my soul in slumber of a Cashmere shawl.
Silver fog shivers to glide with sunlit breeze,
memories melt my heart as snow begins to freeze.
On twirling trumpets of aural leaves I dance,
maple trees orchestrate a proliferous glance.
The hums of wet layered crystals appease dew,
I breathe iridescent aroma of reviving damp hue.
In quietude embossed broken twigs in scarlet rays,
I weave a pattern of opera peeping through haze.
There's an old tree house draped at divine dusk,
I spend my hours inhaling in wind dispersed musk.
My sandcastles of love fly in azure palate of sky,
with echoing wind my embellished petals rise high.
The rivulets under the wooden bridge caress pebbles
longing to strum starry nights as shriveling rebels.
Sequins of crimson in haloed wisps of Autumn tide,
the fir tree shimmers in veils as a stunning bride.
Ah! On starry nights when crystals kiss furling space,
my love blooms in blushing incarnations with grace.
Autumn tiptoes nervously for the forest to be reborn,
a gossamer shield of awakened serenity my cells adorn.
August 17, 2020
Serenity Awakened Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
Word Count: 232
Towards the middle of the April the wind changes and the showers fall,
We hide under the branches of an old fir tree sheltering from the rain,
All is well as the rain sweeps across the shallow mead's rippling waters,
There is a fluorescent greenness in the grass and buds begin to open.
Walking through villages old parks over commons, heaths and meadows,
Stretching legs running over commons after a long and very hard winter,
Larks sing in the sweetest air as blackbirds swoop from grand oak trees,
A child looks amazed at the change nature makes his eyes wide as saucers.
Standing on common land flocks of goslings pale green like new catkins,
Protected by squawking and chasing parents should anything come near,
Gorse in full bloom in the leafless woods while primroses bask in the rain,
Turf on these lands are thick with violets, cowslips grow in fine meadows.
The ox lip, half primrose half cowslip begins to mature into a thick bloom,
Looking across square fields enclosed by thousand year old hedgerows,
Old orchards grass is littered with white violets side by side with daisy's,
A Purple wood spurge hangs pale-green flowers among tufts of alyssum.
Rich yellows and reds sweep across the low sky.
A certain line drawn between day and night.
Watching a distant star way up high.
Forever gazed in to its eternal glowing light.
The rich deafening sounds that hold a distant memory;
A Memory of the past, or may be, a past life;
As the crisp frozen air brushes through a willing fir tree
My mind carves my surroundings like a sculptures knife.
The trickling brook reflects the glowing crescent moon
Flowing gently over the rocks that lead the way
I watch as it flows in to the misty but majestic lagoon.
How wonderful it is to feel the fresh water spray.
The last ray of the sun fades over the distant horizon
It was like a switch as the infinite stars acted as a night light.
My surrounding clear, as if there was a midnight-sun.
A new perspective, a new life waiting patiently to ignite.