Best Oak Tree Poems
This old oak-tree smiling through my balcony
Sways and swings cheerily, a happy emissary,
Budding new vigor upon tiny greenish leaves
Adorning exuberance of idyllic new morning,
Quivering golden-beams on dawning of spring.
When the sun rises, blushing mauve feelings,
Its gentle oscillations fetch tender sensibilities
Inviting sparrows to grace the stage of robins
In spontaneous outburst of ceremonial music--
Chirping, twittering, singing for the hatchlings.
As summer of my mind churns wistful stories,
Its white blossoms waltz tender warm breeze
And leaves flutter merrily, twirling to comfort me
When thoughts bygone nudge parched vagaries
Engrossed in realm of burned-out memories.
When autumn turns green into fiery-red leaves
As ruby sundown glitters on amethyst evening
And gusty winds rustle-in endlessly, ferociously,
Whirling flying colors, floating crimson revelries;
A few remnants cling-on, loath to forsake me.
Yet, brazenly I gaze away, ignoring its appeal
When harsh winter shudders essence of its being,
Quivering, shivering bare-skinned branches;
Staying beguiled instead on top of frozen hills
Where sunset articulates ochre-tinged themes.
May 26, 2020
Poem of the day on May 28, 2020
Placed 2nd: Brian's Choice Y Contest
What tales your leaves must whisper
of youths tall in your strong arms.
Pretending to be pirates
in a terrible, fierce storm.
Or lovers in your shadows
making vows they sometimes kept;
dreamer's secret hideaway,
underneath leaves, young boys slept.
Many years honed your boldness,
growing taller, stronger, blest.
You were proud to play sentry
standing guard so birds could nest.
You were the featured player
in those years of grandeur past.
Years have now turned against you
and have burdened you at last.
Growing older with seasons,
branches balding, and falling.
You stand proud as you listen
to echoes and their calling.
My good friend, grand old oak tree
I will sit with you at last
We'll tell each other stories
of those days that have long passed.
April, 2020
for Wisdom from Trees Poetry Contest
by Anoucheka Gangabissoon
The cold north winds that stripped you bare,
Shall bring a white cloak for you to wear.
This is how my Autumn trees look already.
11.19.2014
For Rick Paris's
Contest Crystalline
4th
the Oak Tree
You were always someone special
In the midnight hours in my dream
I could really feel the tension
A tree, a limb, a friend
No matter how hard life came at me
There you stood perfectly
Letting me lean up against your stand
I will never forget the day you swayed the first hi
I talked as if you were hearing
A tree, a piece of wood in my path
A punching bag
My Oak Tree you will always be
One day in my sorrowed life
I stopped by just to reminisce
Your beauty, I find so divine
Your leaves took me backwards
I fell in love with your soul all over again
With a beauty, I find so divine
Hope you will always be there my friend
Indulging the felling you transcend
A cold spot never found in you
Re-breathing your surround, no need to make a sound
The power you have when you make my heart mend
My Oak Tree you will always be my friend
In the lowest day of my life
I went on a secret walk to look for comfort
The beauty of you is no longer there
Walking around with an extra deep pain of hurt
Not sure how one could bare such a loss
Dropping myself to my Knees upon the dirt
An empty spot is the only thing there
My friend I thought you would always be there
How can they take you away from this world?
A lonely field
No root, no seed
Loneliness no one to lean up against
You will no longer be there
How could they cut down, my friend?
My friend the Oak Tree.
Where are your seeds?
By;PD
A towering inferno loses
a cluster of flames once held dear.
19~11~2014
Sponsor: Rick Parise
Contest Name: Crystalline
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A BONUS CRYSTALINE NOT FOR THE CONTEST
Hard Oak
Softly swaying - in sensual ease
embraces a warm autumn breeze.
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*always read the fine print
Other Then The Title This Next Crystalline Is Written In Special Ink That Only The Best Of Poets Can See And Read. It Is The Best Of All My Writes. It is inspired by "The Emperors Clothes."
ONE MORE BONUS CRYSTALINE NOT FOR THE CONTEST
The Naked Oak
19~11~2014
A noble Black Oak tree stands tall and tranquil
Wearing brown, old and dried crumpled leaves
Withstanding all autumn and winter storms
Without any distress or any grief
Golden fall is long gone, cold, wet season is also concluding
Spring is poking its head up with colorful bulbs blooming
Some of her allies have Cherry blossoms in flourish
Some show progression of luscious new emerald leaves
Mother earth knows unique behavior of her child
With assurance, she lets her be herself while watching over with smile
Tree wants to hold on to longstanding and withered for a while long
Not ready yet to let go of dear presence of that warmth
April comes along to cheer her up
Tree beams, perks up
Ridding her old dry appearance, starts dressing up
Growing yellowish handsome clusters of dangling male catkins,
Gorgeous reddish female flowers in short striking javelins,
Velvety foliage of sharp zigzag tips in red tinge,
With pointed seven to nine lobes with bristles exquisitely unique
Summer grows them into profound shade of shiny green
Rust colored acorns with top halves enclosed in caps start appearing
Showing her wisdom in her towering strength and stability,
With canopy of branches widespread and mighty,
Tree gets ready once more for visitors of ecosystem to offer plenty…
The Old Oak Tree
For thirty-three years she’s been standing there,
With all her majestic beauty, without a care.
From a tiny seedling I had planted her,
The years rolled by swiftly, like a blur.
The decision was made, she must come down,
The old oak tree looked stately wearing her crown.
The tree surgeon, Jesse, came by that day,
Chain saw in hand, he didn’t come to play.
As each limb was sawed off, I felt the pain,
I stood helplessly as my big oak was slain.
Finally she stood cold, undressed and bare,
I felt so ashamed for my part in this affair.
I saw the surgeon cutting low on her trunk,
Then she began to sway like somebody drunk.
Finally, exhausted, she did a curtsy and fell,
A small tear came in my eye as I bid her farewell.
©2010 Lynn B. Glover
Autumn Oak Tree
Dazzling dots…red, tan, orange, gold
George Seurat-like painting to behold
© Sandra M. Haight 2014
All Rights Reserved
~12th Place~
Crystalline Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Rick Parise
Judged 11/23/2014
Am Ufer des Flusses
Bevor die Sonne erlischt
Nur leichtes Gurgeln
--------------------------------
At the river banks
Before the sun finally sets
Only a slight gurgle
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A orillas del río
Antes que el sol desaparece
Sólo ligero gorgoteo
__________________________
Nur eine alte Eiche
Da hinter der Wegbiegung
Trotzte dem letzen Sturm
------------------------------------
Only an old oak tree
There behind the road bend
Defied the last storm
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Sólo un viejo roble
Detrás de la revuelta del camino
Desafió la última tormenta
She slowly grew on him, surrounding his body with brown mold and green moss.
He can’t escape her detachment, her selfless embrace. Her love is only needed from one time to another, like one plant from another, growing and then dying.
And what was that he hoped for but could never find while he was alive?
Some type of love with attachment? She broke him moistly and slowly, piece by piece, while his body sunk deeper into her wet body as the sun and rain touched him.
Right before he died he heard the voice of her, “Shhh, my child, who thinks so highly of himself.”
“You come into me, and I will use you as you are needed! Broken, back into my body, back under my streams of water, back into the cold, soft soil, back where you were born.
You will be used as food for my small creatures. You will be used to fertilize the gardens of my skin.
The tulips in autumn, the dandelions in spring, they all wait to rise and see the rays of the sun just as you did.”
a hulking oak tree
extends elongated boughs
handshakes with nature
Tree Themed Haiku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin (Winner: 2nd Place)
Howmanysyllables.com( 5-7-5 Syllables)
Date written and submitted: 08/19/2019
I must have been five
And my brother only four
Feeling adventurous
We explored the wooden area
A stone's throw from home
I had the bright idea
To climb that tall oak tree
It was so grand and majestic
I told my brother to stay put
I climbed up and up
Way out onto a branch
Then I had nowhere to go
Stuck I couldn’t back up
Ended up flipping over
Arms and legs
Precariously wrapped
Around a rough old branch
Looking straight up at the sky
I knew I was in trouble
When my grip got loose
And my little arms let go
I held my breath to no avail
Free falling slow motion
It was the strangest feeling
To see my little body
Flat on its back
From way up above
And hearing a deep voice
Out of my own throat
Saying to go get help
Laying there motionless
As I watched still from way above
Like never again ever in my life
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on September 20, 2017 for contest POEMS THAT PAINT A PICTURE 3 sponsored by SILENT ONE - RANKED 4TH
I am the cornerstone
In the legend of timeless Oaks
That so profoundly stand alone
Magnificent in strength and age
A noble guardian of longevity and resilience
My permanence and stamina
Is willed to rise above all other trees
Yet hold the ground deeply rooted
And take my solemn vow of continuance
As the sovereign commemorative
To the ultimate power of eternal Mother Earth
I enfold the spirit of the Origins
Spread over fields of enduring horizons
Of timeless Suns and Moons
And shifts of transformation
I hold the secret of this beacon of wisdom
This core of breed and birth
For this, the Tree of Life
I am the last - the only future
I am the heritage seed - the acorn
Given to shed with the passing of time
As the chronicle offspring of ancestors
To be reborn in the singular act of purpose
To reach far in my branching to the sky
As the gateway of earth and heaven
April 27, 2020
The Last Acorn Poetry Contest
Sponsored by John Lawless
There's a swing that is hung from a long oaken tree,
By a string where the young have a longing to be.
Where they fly to the sky, ever higher they go,
Till they cry, "Not so high! I shall die, don't you know?"
And they tread through the wold all around by the tree,
Where it's said ruins old can be found by a key.
How they thought many-a night how this fact could be true,
And they fought to set right while they wracked in a crew;
But they never could figure that blur in the tale,
So they clamber with vigor the fir by the trail.
They'd retrace to the place where the moss covered tree
Like a face, beamed with grace as it tossed o'er the lea.
Such a hold that tree held on their glad little selves
As they trolled songs of eld with the bad little elves;
And the song that they sing is a song specked with tears,
Of a long oaken swing cast along through the years;
Left alone by the lane, overgrown, never seen,
Ever blown by the rain, with a groan deep and keen,
Till a small little girl stopped a while on her way,
And a tall oaken burl with a smile bade her stay.
How she clove in a dive through the grove, and the tree,
How it throve, came alive in the cove, in the lea.
{Comments and critique by those knowledgeable
about consonance vastly appreciated.}
I have a picture of a tree,
its gnarled trunk thick and wide,
support branches reaching a hundred feet high
Once started as a seed,
has grown to become truly mighty,
generations have played under her leaves,
climbing high into her crown,
a dizzying height,
tire tubes and swings,
wore deep grooves into her lower branches,
evidence of childhood attention,
remnants of an old tree house,
still may be seen,
yet, can no longer be reached,
to high the old oak tree
I love Mary encased in a heart
carved into her bark,
hastily scratched through,
then added Sue, Lucy, and June,
all share the same fate,
carved by a young fellow
whose name is unknown
When in full regalia a majestic sight,
her leaves rustle softly in the wind,
designed to send gentle breeze,
where lunch is laid,
and children play
For eons she has pleasured many,
harmed none,
adding beauty and grace,
to the old home place
In her time,
she had weathered many a storm,
although, her limbs and leaves did shake,
she stood defiant in their wake,
she stood her ground,
refusing to be brought down
Now I know she was awfully old,
she looked terrifically strong,
as big as she was,
some of her roots, her foundation,
had cracked, been ripped apart,
deep scars that never healed,
ran throughout,
never deeply rooted from the start,
her massive weight,
kept her, from falling apart
Then came along the worst she had ever seen,
throwing at her winds over one thirty,
her powerful branches,
reaching so high,
snap like twigs, are cast aside,
her broad trunk taking full impact,
finally succumbs,
pushed over onto her back,
her foundation ripped from the ground,
stood skeletal, hovering above,
what was once her majestic crown
If you listened closely when she hit the ground,
the moan of hundreds of children
crying out, was her last sound
She lay there for weeks,
until, finally,
cut up, burned, and hauled off,
nothing remained
I have a picture of a tree,
where once stood a mighty oak,
a miniature shoot now free of the land,
reaches ever higher