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New Tree Poems

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He Lives Forever - The Tree Of Life Style by Petersen Potter, Dorian
Barren Branches of a Willow Tree Die by messina, charles
If A Tree Could Talk by Acrich, Marc
Barren branches of a willow tree die by Kantor, Jeff
Barren Branches of a Willow Tree Die by Gondolf, John
Barren branches of a willow tree die by Buhagiar, Victor
THE HOLLOW TREE OF WISDOM by Talbot, Mick
tree by Kitchin, Tania
Barren Branches Of A Willow Tree Die by Moorman, Curtis
Shade tree by Easter, Paul

View all new Tree Poems

The Best Tree Poems

Details | Tree Poem |

A Dryad's Tale

One day while passing by a tree, I heard a sigh.
It seemed the oak could speak; I felt my knees go weak,
for like a siren’s song, his whisper made me long
to stop and lay me down upon his shaded ground.

Because the day was hot, I lingered at that spot.
The oak got in my mind because I felt inclined
to slip out of my dress, and yes, I must confess
it was as if that tree had cast a spell on me!

With words of poetry, he started wooing me.
His leaves then brushed my skin. I trembled deep within.
His branches were so lush, I hoped I would not blush
to think each sturdy limb might draw me up to him.

I don’t know how or why, but under summer’s sky
I disappeared into his essence and I knew
the tree had captured me. His wood nymph I would be,
for he and I were one that day beneath the sun.

As if immortal, now I live beneath his bough;
at times I disappear within him, but no fear
lives in me any more because the forest floor
I roam now with great joy;  the woodland is my home!

Beneath the firmament, lost in my oak tree’s scent,
I feel completely free, his beauty all I see.
A young maid passes by; perhaps she hears us sigh
and thinks it but the breeze now passing through the trees.

But no, it is but I, beneath the summer sky
locked in my tree’s embrace, and with my new found grace,
I look at her and see the girl I used to be,
and my reality is this sweet fantasy

For Deborah Guenther Beachboard's Fantasy Contest

Details | Tree Poem |

Seeing Autumn's oak adorn

Painting sky before I was born,
Draping my grave in leaf and acorn.

----------------------------
Contest: Crystalline
Sponsor: Rick Parise
11.22.14

Details | Tree Poem |

My Tree's Seasons

spring wakens my tree -
a bejeweled perfumed bride. . . .
love birds make their nest

summer’s yellowed lawn
beneath my tree’s sombrero. . . . 
grass breathes sweet relief

fall’s quick change artist -
from green to gold to crimson. . . . 
disrobed, my tree naps

Details | Tree Poem |

A Bed of Pink Petals

One April day when spring was in the air,
I stepped outside so I might relish it.
I came upon a cherry tree so fair,
beneath its limbs I was enticed to sit.

I fell to sleep inhaling fragrant bliss -
the vision of the tree still in my brain.
I dreamed one sweet, pink petal, like a kiss,
fell on my cheek, and soon there was a rain. . . 

A rain of lovely silken blossoms! Then
they softly made a pile upon the ground.
Warm wind embraced me; that’s the moment when 
I woke to pink resplendence all around!

Upon a bed of petals I then lay.
Inside a dream I had no need to stay!


For the Dreams poetry contest of Nayda Ivette Negron

Details | Tree Poem |

Wood Stages

I Death Wood

My skeleton, the trembling tree,
hit by the axes of ambulances
due to the decay of disease.
My muscles languish as wilted leaves.
My organs are rotting red apples.
My soul is the searing wind, while
my thoughts tick like termites.

The ivy of MS illness wraps with
waste around my twisted trunk.
Suddenly, spiders of suicide 
descend onto my branches.
They crawl across my broken bark,
crackling my rustic eyesight.

The sun, a golden unicorn, gone
into the forest of healthy laughter.
My wilted wood wanes in a cloud coma
with no moon, stars or watercolor sky.
Where are my wildflowers? 
Where is my green gleam?
I wait and wish for black lighting.

II Birth Wood

My family, the fog where most
float in the underworld as veiled
ghosts along the grassy grounds.
My thirsty roots reach for them
like wild hands hungry in ebony soil.
Sometimes their memory perfumes
and pollinates my heart with prayers.

My friends are a flock of birds that
become singing bracelets upon my bark.
Their feathers grace me like silk hope.
Their beaks devour the suicide spiders
on my weak wood, and their cheerful 
songs encourage me to bloom once again. 

Full moon flashes as a white wizard,
wearing a cloak of competitive clouds,
while moody night smolders as his black hat.
Spirals of opal light make my bark bright.
Spirit moonbeams weave within my wood,
healing hollow shadows, and allowing me to 
taste the monthly midnight milk of magic.

III Rain Wood

Spring steams with saturating rainfall,
sealing my splinters, washing away webs,
and the dirt of daily depression. 
My sap slides like a slow moving sea.
My tree bends and bows in all
directions, sprouting with joy.
Jade fire erupts along my branches.

Raindrops beat like crystal hearts
upon my boughs and my blossoms.
These clear spheres of nature inspire 
rebirth and germination of all life.
My apples sing as flutes, my leaves
clap hands, and my trunk plays harp.

My lover, the lone eagle, appears and flaps
his feathered wings upon my wooden nest.
Our love is best lived in traveling weather.
My limbs taste the last drops of dissipating dew
as the crocheting clouds release final rivers.
Deer court in the fermenting forest,
while golden unicorn grazes upon me.

February 7th 2008

Sponsor: A Poet Destroyer
Contest: 100 in a ROW contest--3

Details | Tree Poem |

Somber Days

I am somber
like November days
and my words speak
weak, as if through tired tongue

I see the trees
stand naked
reaching their limbs
across the stream
as if touching
and comforting each other
from the bitter cold
that's settling in

sometimes I envy them
I want to stand naked
arch my back
reach towards hands
and feel the comfort 
of more than I am allowed
and escape the bitterness
as it settles in

it doesn't seem fair
to question a day
or night that wears the same veil
as me, colorless
and silent in the breeze
as it whispers 
through the trees

sometimes
I want to lean my ear
and eavesdrop on them

I want to peak beneath
the skies veil and see 
the colors blend
to see the rain
less clear
through colored drops
fall upon a canvas
and paint a masterpiece

I want to feel my hands
finger a pen, without tingling
from bottled up emotions
to feel my soul inside me
not as if locked outside
looking in, as if a stranger
to my own life

not be the afterthought
or an emotion beyond words
of some poet's muse

I want to know the meaning
of this emptiness
I want to understand
why the tree is as naked
as my thoughts in winter
yet dressed heavy in the summer
and most beautiful in the fall

why does beauty fall
become grounded
and dance in November's wind
somber, like the day....

Details | Tree Poem |

Falling leaves, beautiful demise

Leaves talking, beautiful demise

If a leaf could talk, it would say, please, take your time
life is acted out in stages, every song has it's rhyme
When a leaf dies, its dynamic impressions in its flight
a stunning display of artistry, dazzling to the sight

Green turns to crimson, flaming tangerine and gold
a leaf's transforming demise is a beauty to behold
As sap runs dry, youthful vitality turns evanescent
the beauty of a leaf's demise is resplendent iridescence

A leaf's downfall, granted, is a casualty of the season
it's journey into oblivion, is transfixing beyond reason
When a leaf, takes its leave, exits gracefully the scene
We're left breathless with the vision, an event to be seen



September17,2016

Details | Tree Poem |

Rainbow Tree

Oh my regal Eucalyptus friend,
Your tall rainbow trunk is rooted deep,
Stationary, yet your tree tops bend
In constant unison with the wind.
My camera can’t capture your awesome sweep.
Thin limbs try to reach the azure sky
While your trunk fascinates passersby.
An army of ants reveals a platoon
Moving over bark to their marching tune. 
Your small leaves sing in susurrate song,
A Queen amidst trees where you belong!

© Connie Marcum Wong

We have this lovely tree here in Hawaii. The rainbow eucalyptus, Mindanao gum, or rainbow gum is the only Eucalyptus species found naturally in the Northern Hemisphere. Its natural distribution spans New Britain, New Guinea, Seram, Sulawesi and Mindanao.

Details | Tree Poem |

BEECH TREE

Oh how I hate the winter where my limbs are exposed and seen
I just adore the spring time, I wear my dress of emerald green

Draping myself in lush foliage, not an inch of body you can see
Until warm winds of autumn arrive and begin to undress me

Then I start to shiver as my gown of golden leaves falls away
Leaving me cold and naked until spring returns again one day

08~22~15

Details | Tree Poem |

Our October Sky

 



 October sky, the 1st we celebrate, a seasons heart yearned treasured moment,
    Sun rises, new beginnings, Enlightens nature, we seek atonement.

  Dawn lights an autumn’s crisp chill, christening fallen leaves of tomorrow,
    Decorated front porch memories, earthly heritage, smothered sorrow.

  Passes monsoons, thirst quenched foliage, brought on dust storms, summer’s breeze.
     Colors dancing, enchanting harvest, Orange golden glows, on resting trees,

  Cinnamon sneaks by steaming cider, mulls a spiced aroma essence,
     Caramel apple, child’s smile, escapes harvest reminisce.

   A wonder inspired walk, a gentle kick to wisp away,
      Tree’s blessings, fallen life, decorated memories of yesterday.

   Crisp leaves falling, sprinkled mist, dripping dew drops land by chance,
         Hearts pitter pattered warmth speaks, provoking sudden dance.

   Fawns brook side, a mother’s love, protectant father thru seasons dressing,
       Such beauty grace lingers freely, coins free, bestows natures blessing.

   Falls door opens, touched hearts so deeply, awakened sober love outpours,
       God’s mystique he created goodness, for all of us he adores.

    Daylights autumn beauty, followed by nightfall’s tucked in kiss,
        A glowing lullaby, we’re put to bed; our harvests moon we’ve greatly missed.

Details | Tree Poem |

A Bedtime Story

Once, a long ways away, and a long time ago
Lived a wee little man with his silly pet crow;
And once every day, as the sun went to bed
The wee little man and the crow he called Ted
Would go through the woods on a nice little walk;
And while they walked through the woods, his pet crow would talk.
Now, if saying, “Pet crow Ted could talk” twists your tongue,
Just wait till I’m through, and the story is done,
Because Ted tied the twigs of two tall apple trees
To the tips of his toes, and his knobby old knees,
And these twigs made him bounce as he walked ‘round and ‘round,
And he talked really loud while he walked on the ground,
Saying, “Twiddle my fiddles, and tie me a pie,
‘Cause a silly old crow couldn’t fly high as I.”
Then the wee little man said, “You silly old bird,
Just the way that you talk takes the sense from a word;
For if fiddles could twiddle, and pies had a string,
Then ants would walk backwards, and old crows would sing.”
Replied Ted the crow to the wee wizened man,
“Perhaps ants can’t do it, but old crows sure can.”
Then he puffed out his chest, and he cawed cockaroo,
And he sang an old song titled, “How Do You Do?”
“How do you do, little maid, Liddy Lee
When the crows come by twos, and they perch on the tree?
What do you see, little maid, Liddy Lee
When the crows throw the cockleshells out on the sea?
Where do you go, little maid, Liddy Lee
When the snow drives the crows from the mulberry tree?
And what do you hear, little maid, Liddy Lee
When the crows throw the snow on the cockleshell sea?”
But the old man just laughed and said, “Such silly songs
Never croaked such a crow as he hopped right along,
Because ants can’t walk backwards, and crows cannot sing,
Just like horses can’t fly, nor do turtles have wings.”
Now the crow wasn’t happy with what had been said
So he said, “I will sing you another instead,”
Then he puffed out his chest, and he cawed cockaree,
And he sang him a song called, “When Two Turned to Three.”
“When two turned to three, and when five turned to four
Things got much stranger than ever before.
There were two little pigs, and but two blinded mice,
And the two musketeers played with three little dice.
There were five and twenty blackbirds flying in the sky;
And four the little famous boy who never told a lie.
When six turned to seven, and eight turned to ten,
Snow White had six little dwarves with her then.
All the town clocks struck first ten, nine, then eight;
And people were always too early or late,
So they turned it all back to six, seven, eight, nine,
That way we could always keep track of the time.
Now the three pigs are three, and there’s three blinded mice,
And the three musketeers play with two little dice,
And the wee little dwarves number seven in all,
And the clock strikes from one up to twelve down the hall.”
But the old man just laughed and said, “Such silly songs
Never croaked such a crow as he hopped right along,
Because ants can’t walk backwards, and crows cannot sing,
Just like snakes don’t have legs, nor do bunnies have wings.
And with that, the old man put his pet crow to bed;
And till early next morning not a sentence was said.

Details | Tree Poem |

Emerald Forests

Emerald Forests

Emerald forest hiding from man's curse
if found, its never better , always worse.
Wretched destroyers we are in this abode
in our arrogance we are firmly sold.

Greed for taking everything in our path
we in our false pride deliver our wrath.
Astonished that some may in this rebel
when seeking their deaths, damn them all to hell.

If true, the meek inherit this sweet earth
then our dear souls must love for all their worth.
Where river and bend meet with shining sky
Nature teases us to ask how and why.

Shall we pray that emerald forests hide?
Take action on that we can not abide?

Robert J. Lindley, 11-29-2016

Syllables Per Line: 10 
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Words: 	108

Details | Tree Poem |

The Solo Dancer - Tanka to Sonnet

Alone atop a hill,
   an ornamental willow
             dances in the breeze.
Long limbs form a lovely gown
    that gracefully sweeps the ground.

Adored by the sun,
    the willow is not weeping.
                        She blooms rosily!
April’s first shower has passed;
       for the sun alone, she shines.
           

The Solo Dancing Ornamental Tree (new title for the sonnet version)

An ornamental tree with willow leaves
upon a promontory stands alone.
In April’s breeze, each limb, cascading, weaves
with fragrance. She is dancing on her own.

I wonder how she came to be at all.
Her roots lie in a solitary place
where few traverse to spy her - lithe and small -
there moving in rain’s aftermath with glee.

In small degrees, the sun has climbed the sky.
No longer pallid, he is smiling down
upon the swaying willow. By and by,
Her graceful limbs shine like a lacquer gown.

Her lovely blooms have opened to expose
The splendid blush of buds with hue light rose.

Details | Tree Poem |

My Fragile Friends

Please speak to me my lovely friend
With leaves stirred softly by the wind

Under enchanted autumn sky
Where your susurrate sounds drift by.

Sing soft melodies in choir
As leaves glow as if on fire.

I feel your abject dying pain 
When wet and cold from chilling rain.

I remember spring at your birth,
How you brightened verdant earth.

And then in summer your soft shade
Where under your cool leaves I laid.

You always spoke or sang to me
While holding close your mother tree.

But now in autumn's silver sky
Soft spoken leaves whisper goodbye.

© Connie Marcum Wong

September 17, 2016 Poem of the Day

Leaves talking - Poetry Contest N/A
Sponsor John Lawless

Details | Tree Poem |

where barren branches touch newborn leaves

Scurrying on my way home, a little leaf catches my eye, and I am compelled yet again to slow down.

a whirlwind of thoughts
compete with swaying of trees~
lone leaf on my shoe

I am not sure exactly when my fascination for falling leaves started, there is just something so beautiful and artistic in which they drift to the ground....I recall one particular moment in my college literature class when my professor inquired into my choice of the word "wither" in my leaf metaphor for a dying old couple.

My explanation involved telling him that for me, that particular word had a certain gracefulness to it, and that was how I saw that couple in their twilight years. But I deviate, for I merely intend to write about the interesting tree that I saw the other day. I do not know what species it is, but it bears its berry-like fruits on its branches and it has cordate leaves.

barren branches touch
newborn leaves on other side--
a paradox tree

A smile languidly forms together with my memory of seeing that same tree six days post double-faced state. It proudly donned a full crown of leaves in less than a week. With this image in mind, I can’t help but feel mystified, with the constancy and dichotomy of change….It seems like everything around me is continuously evolving, revolving. I can’t help but feel lost.

Almost in defiance to this line of thinking, I shake the leaf off my shoe, and trample on it. Instead of feeling satisfied, I feel guilt. I never did forget that Enid Blyton tale of how dried leaves were actually fairies.

littered autumn road
I stomp on the frail fallen….
my feet crushing death

Rolling my eyes with my melodramatic thoughts, I continue my walk home. It’s crazy how leaves can make me go philoloopysical. I am tempted to actually stop in the middle of the road and simply sit there—be among the trees as the wind serenades them, with the leaves swaying gently, some choosing to pirouette, some doing the salsa dip.

Being the practical person that I am, I just run my fingers along my wind-discoed hair. If it were possible, I would like to be a leaf. I find such nobility and grace to it. Imagine being able to capture light, transforming energy to create nourishment. Giving, breathing life. There is a delicate artistry with the changing of its colors—a complex, fascinating chemistry in each blade that I’m sure God is so proud of.

eyes gently follow
dying trail of withered leaf;
wind sighs its mourning

I pick up one leaf to remind me...

11202015

Details | Tree Poem |

Nature

(The Sun is Out)

I dare to hope and dream, 
Of flowers that never fade
Of splendid and exotic creatures
All living in perfect harmony. 
I dream of tranquil earthly paradise,
A keen euphoric garden of Eden,
Created by my one and true Lord.
Alas that man sinned and now
The garden of Eden is closed.
 
So let us together embark upon a journey,
In earnest search and ardent expectation
Of peace and love and blissful pleasure. 
Let us travel down a mighty river
In a small pirogue, winding its way
Along the fern lined banks
Admiring the cypress and the tall pine trees.
 
The river turns into a valley,
Where mighty willows weep and dip
Their lower branches in the fresh icy stream. 
All around, we smell the scent of flowers,
Butterflies with gossamer wings
Flit untiringly from bloom to bloom
While insects seem to have composed
A lively concert of their own.
 
We hear the music of the song birds,
Especially the multicolored martin pescador,
Finches practicing their fine tunes
to serenade the attractive female mate.
We spy warblers, sparrows, and orioles
Dancing from branch to branch
Or birds of prey soaring over the ancient firs
Trying to catch some unsuspecting fish
That swims beneath the calm surface
Of a smooth and tranquil lake. 

Such magic moments mesmerize our senses,
As we witness the birth of day.
We find ecstasy in Our Lord's creations. 
His wondrous hand enhances nature,
Fascinates our spirit with uninhibited joy
Expanding the joyous hope for all humanity.


Placed 8

Details | Tree Poem |

Eleven Words

A busy road.
A tree stump.
An old man.

Everyday at eight 'o clock
He sits there, cane tapping
just watching cars go by--
I among them

Such a lonely man
I say to myself

Same busy road.
Same tree stump.
Same old man.

He looks up, cane twirling
and smiles at me
in that split second
I smile back

A roadside friend is gained.

Same busy road.
Same tree stump.
Different old man.

Day after day
He waves hi--cane dancing
Smiling
I wave goodbye,
no time to stop

Same busy road
Same tree stump
No old man

I screech to a halt
Ask of his absence

Clutching
a piece of paper
found taped on his cane
I weep in my car
and send a prayer
of thanks
to my roadside friend

Eleven words
Changed my world.
"Thank you lady in the blue car.
You make my day."

Same busy road.
Same tree stump.
Different me.

Details | Tree Poem |

Leaves talking

As long as I can remember
I have been green and on this branch.
They tell me soon I will become tinged,
Glow bright red,
Burn orange,
Or shine like gold.
I can hardly wait!

And soon after I shall
Embark on that journey
They have been talking about,
And I am a bit scared.
A wind will come, they say,
And rip me away,
Fling me wildly into the air,
Whirl me around in mad dance,
Toss me, smash me,
Lash me
With rain
Before I crash
To the ground
All wet and ripped.

But maybe, some say,
On a quiet sunny day,
A tiny breeze, almost unnoticed,
Will gently pluck me off,
And I shall sail on the air,
Swaying to and fro,
And descend softly
Onto a rustling pile.

September 14, 2016
For contest: Leaves Talking
Sponsor: John lawless
1st place

Details | Tree Poem |

cherry blossoms

atop worn weathered concrete
pink petals gaily gather
entice lovers strolling
fingers touch  mittens vanish.

blushing halo canopy
highlights cool rosy cheeks
tiny buds whisper passion
newly awakened  long sleep.

sky gleams dreamy hues
turquoise shyly taunting
button noses cold   rub
lips plump  part  wanting.

kiss  two hearts waltz  
more kisses  sweetest tune
cherry blossoms dance
sprinkle magic  love blooms.

Details | Tree Poem |

Winter Guardians

Rows of heavy snow flocked pines
In varied heights stretch to touch
White cloud dappled azure skies.
Their blue-gray shadows cast across

Pristine snow and swift river's flow.
Steep hillsides lure camera lenses 
With picturesque clear alpine air,
Sharing serene senses with dawn.

Shimmering bright in solar light,
Powdered snow in angelic glow
Captures diamond crystal auras
Reflected off the drifted mounds.

Rounded river rocks dressed with
Snow covered marshmallow tops
Greet the beauty of the celestial sun,
In divine display of this blessed day.

©Connie Marcum Wong

Details | Tree Poem |

This Willow Tree - A Collaboration with White Wolf

Evening gusts shall take away all my fear,
The stars will shine and fill my eyes with cheer,
The universe holds everything so dear
But you my love... How much I want you here

Lonely nights upon horizons I face,
To hold you again in this sacred place
I howl forlorn into the moonlit space
Where once we lay in our loving embrace

Weeping willows shall whistle in the glen,
As I lay silent with paper and pen
You left me, but I forgive you, again
The tree my witness, return to me, then....

     We grow our roots beneath this willow tree
     In sun and rain we will together be

***

April 22, 2017 
Copyright © Darren White and White Wolf

Details | Tree Poem |

Dripping Raindrops

 Dripping Raindrops

The rain began quite lazily
tap tap tapping on the canopy

Drop drop dropping on the jade green grass
under subdued light drops shine like glass

The wind kick ups a ruffled breeze
soon the rain is drip drip dripping from the trees

Loud thunder strikes and with it brings
rain pouring down in liquid strings

I hoped this storm would quickly pass
and before too long it had cried it's last

Again I hear- drip drip dripping from the trees
as the raindrops drip off the fresh spring leaves.

Details | Tree Poem |

White Sunday


       The final leaf falls ~ and I’m bare ~ it’s me that you’re reading here

What I am I’ll always be~even if I decorate my tree~with colorful crystal balls
 
  I brave a winter’s pain ~ a summer’s swell ~ I can spring anew and I do fall 

I cry like a baby~and laugh through it all~cause I am who I am ~ standing tall 
 
 Seasons come ~ and seasons go ~ my branches reaching out to touch you ~ 

welcoming what life unfolds ~ my roots firmly planted ~ by a river that flows 

        ~ in a conscious garden ~ the soil of heaven ~ feeds my earthly soul ~

Details | Tree Poem |

Treephoria

As my roots grow deeper
I find my reach extends further
Nourishment I draw from the soil
clothes me in splendid garments

My branches stretch towards the sky
so that I may embrace the sun
The moon is my night time companion
Stars come out to express their delight

I am shelter to the small
The strong perch high on my branches
Magical creatures have made me their home
So I have vowed to keep them safe

In anticipation of Fall's arrival
I adorn myself with magnificent colors
Knowing I will soon be left naked
Seduced by Autumn's winds

There is no reason to fear for me
For within my core there is warmth
Soon Winter will blanket me in white
She will crown me with ice crystals
for I am of Noble Birth!

Details | Tree Poem |

Absinthe Leaves

In the firmament of trees
October's eye
looks down in cruel azure
on summer's absinthe leaves,
flocking like survivors
to a mortal haven.
Autumn's blood magma
creeps through leaves
bequeathing fire 
and brittle amber. 
Fertile frost breeds
in arctic prisms,
whispering feral eddas
as withering violets
echo bitter truth.