Best Willow Poems
Oh, weeping willow - friend to me
enchanting thee shall always be.
I have bequeathed secrets to thee
whilst whispering gently to me.
Taketh comfort when hie to flee
nature’s maddening outburst spree.
Cometh rain, shine, you hear my plea
and protect me from life’s debris.
Graceful thee stand my eyes to see
awaiting and weeping with me.
Seasoned branches becoming free
to kiss the ground - teardrops from thee.
Your arching harbour so feathery;
long green leaves a pillow to me.
I rest in safety, hope, to be -
revived afore take leave of thee.
Nectar flowers that feed the bee,
bell shaped yellow, so bright to see.
Catkins fall as you give to me
a token of friendship - bless thee.
Oh, weeping willow - friend to me
enchanting thee shall always be.
I have bequeathed secrets to thee
whilst whispering gently to me.
A path strewn thick with ruddy-faced leaves
led to nowhere and everywhere in fantasies,
our near-death rescue from boredom
come afternoon chores and homework pages
wrinkled in time.
I try to recall all I tried to forget.
Back home, under the willow trees, I weep
for childhood, friendship,
for innocence surrendered,
all I thought I could keep, fuzzy lines
between love and loss,
practical days that come with age.
I close my eyes to see through tears -
you, a dance in rain showers, oval-spheres
of costume jewelry, tea parties and dragons slain
rays of sunlight climbed,
imagination uncaged,
carefree hours,
diamonds in darkness,
restless dreams fell like leaves
on youth's horizon of trees and flowers.
Two kids set free in skies shaded gray -
we said forever, a pinky swear I remember,
naïve in make-believe worlds. How many years
passed by, miles kept between you and I?
A phone call once-in-a-while reminded
of our bitter, listless eyes,
our disappointment in distant words.
I hope you always knew the truth,
I loved you, dear friend.
It was myself, I hated.
Time cradled our laughter,
held it on the breeze,
childhood secrets
shared with ease on our path,
thick with summer's dead leaves.
We, too young to notice,
fell into brittle leaves
trodden bare
before first snow.
Our laughter now echoes in dreams,
chaffing our willow trees
still sulking low,
moss brushes away tears in timeless beauty,
and waits for you to come home.
An old poem, revised 3/15/17
249 words total
The Willow did not always weep,
in summer sun and breeze.
But sorrow once did quickly creep,
amongst the bark and leaves.
For long ago a maiden fair,
would bask beneath the tree.
Each day as she had rested there,
the tree would always see.
The beauty of her freckled face,
the softness of her skin.
The sweetness of her simple grace,
her love it hoped to win.
Reaching out to take the chance,
in all its strength with care.
Dropping low the limb and branch,
to shade the maiden fair.
To hide her from all pain and strife,
to cradle her within.
To help her through her gentle life,
from now until the end.
But soon she cease to come and lay,
beneath the now bowed limb.
Her heart it seems had flown away,
as hope now starts to dim.
So lonely was the branching Willow,
that in sorrow it would stay.
Forever bent and bowed down low,
until this present day.
By Tom Clark, Copyright 2008
Email: [email protected]
Website: www.tomclarkarts.com
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
carved on a willow
our love growing out of reach
Heavenly realm of the weeping willow,
Its eyes dare not shed a tear of sorrow.
Arms down, it stands, with solemn grace,
As the wind of rumor caresses its face.
Beneath its branches, green leaves sway,
As if to beckon life's display,
A silent observer, it stands strong,
Watching the world as it moves along.
Heavenly realm of the weeping willow,
It sees the joy and hears the sighs slow.
But no tears fell from its gentle gaze.
For it knows the secrets of life's maze.
A refuge for the weary soul,
The willow's wisdom takes its toll.
Oh, friends, please listen to its call.
For in its branches, truth does sprawl.
Though no tears fall, their presence is felt.
As it watches life, its heart does melt.
In its stillness, it finds its peace.
And in its silence, it finds release.
'Willow Weep'
The willow
Tree
Is standing
There
Without a
Thought,
Without a
Care.
Anchored deep
It hugs
The earth,
No hint
Of laughter
None of
Mirth.
It softly
Sways
In gentle
Breeze
That barely
Touches
Other trees.
With slender
Leaves
And branches
Long,
Its cooing
Now
A mournful
Song.
But why
So sad,
This stately
Tree
That stands
So tall,
And seems
So free.
What event
In ancient
Time
Now leads
Us to
Much metric
Rhyme,
Of weeping
Willows
Crying softly,
Bearing sadness
Standing loftly.
A contradiction
This weeping
Tree,
That brings
Such joy
To you
And
Me.
tiny cotton paws
whispering into the wind~
catkins soft meow
Someday I'd like to wander free
like butterfly, like bumblebee,
perhaps to plant a willow tree
beside the silent solemn sea,
before these things exist no more,
from mountain top to shifting shore,
when, soon, bald eagles cease to soar
and build their aeries nevermore,
and fish forsake polluted streams
(where sulfur swims and typhoid teems
since no one really cares it seems)
to die inside our toxic dreams
while ice caps melt and winter steams,
and all the air surrounding reeks
as children choke, for no one speaks
of fracking wells or oily leaks
(Big Brother's silenced all critiques!),
and rancid rains acidify
so woods no longer multiply
(for God so wills, we can't deny,
which is, of course, our alibi).
And as the deepest ocean fills
with plastic bags, and garbage spills
upon the plains, across the hills
and turns to poison dust that kills
wild dingo dogs and daffodils
which sink in swamps’ forsaken swills,
the mocking bird makes light and trills
(midst waning wails of whippoorwills)
"Behold the surreal scene that chills
and greet the dread that death distills!
You've had your day with all the frills
that brought the flood and final ills
that can't be cured with bitter pills
nor yet undone with further thrills
of profit gained that grinds and fills
dead desert sands with dollar bills."
EPILOGUE
Though swaddled still in infancy,
we feel we’ve reached our primacy
(aloof, though preaching piously,
disdaining deeds of decency)
and have no need of augury.
But in the pit of prophecy
the crucial questions seem to be:
“Is doom Earth’s fate, our destiny
to twist in tides of agony
destroying nature’s progeny
with no return a certainty
assured by death’s finality?”
and
”Should we plant a willow tree
to someday weep for you and me?”
Weeping Willow
The way your toes curl when you first wake up, yes I have been there to see this.
The way your nose wrinkles as you start to laugh, to this also I have been witness.
You twirl your hair and click your teeth when deep thoughts keep you guessing
And the way your eyes alight with flame when no longer the answers are vexing
Your lips pucker without thought of a kiss when something to you is amusing
About the crazy ideas that I might be having or a book you might be perusing.
I have seen you in the embers of a raging fire, and on the waves that crash upon the shore
I have heard you in the whisper of a windswept leaf as it dances upon the forest floor
I have felt you within a single drop of rain that nature brings to cleanse the earth
I have tasted no greater flavor than this, the nectar garnered from a true loves birth
I have smelled your beauty within the aroma of jasmine, honey, mint and Cinnamon
I have known you from the dawn of time, the cadence of two hearts abridged as one
And when you go to bed at night for some reason my shirts are more comfortable
Than the many things in the past I bought you that your lips told me were unaffordable.
And I have dried the tears that flowed from your eyes when agony came to break your heart
Your brows would furrow as sleep would take you, tomorrow would bring a brand new start
But regardless of this and nonetheless you snuggle in close and at night you shift your pillow
To the cooler side the place that brings solace on the opposite poll of the weeping willow
The weeping willow is outside you see
Even though it is beautiful it wasn't meant to be,
Our willow is huge and hangs to the ground
When the wind blows you hear it all around,
It's beauty is timeless and very much alive
But, on a sad note it is not wanting to survive,
It will be sad to see an empty space
Till the new tree we plant that will take its place,
The weeping willow will definitely be gone
I am sure late at night you will hear its song,
Weeping and crying for all of us to hear
Because after all the roots are left that will shed its tears.
Written By: Unique Poetry 2010
The weeping willow wept and withered.
Lovers swore their love, carving hearts.
Initials replaced her perfect bark.
Pains of loves or lost loves embarked.
Each time young lovers sat beneath her bows,
She watched kissing and tender touches.
Then, out came the knife … OUCH!
44 words
5/20/2017
Written for ONE of FIVE-70 words or less - Poetry Contest Sponsored by Laura Loo
within the parting of titian stained skies
a wisp of crimson elapses from sight
as a gossamery wind amplifies
lullabies falling limpid in hushed night
beneath the willow, i watch as it weeps
then cradle myself in its fragile limbs
'tis there that most forgotten memories seep
as the salty spray of loneliness brims
you reach out...a shadow in lambent light
i feel death's touch upon you through night's air
with wings wide open you take off in flight
unable to free me of this nightmare
this willow tree, though once my childhood crutch
tucks me in its folds, like a mother's touch
December 27, 2019
Best Sonnet of 2019 Contest
Sponsored by John Hamilton
oo weeping willow oo
oo why do you mourn so oo
oo laden with inconsolable sorrow oo
oo tears of woe overflowing in soft moonglow oo
o incognito on tiptoe to and fro such source of vertigo o
to hovering melodies of oboe under a van gogh rainbow
oo o o oo oo oo o oo o L oo o o oo o oo o o
o o o o o o o LO o o o o o o o o
o o o o o o o LOV o o o o o o o
o o o o o o o LOVE o o o o o o o
o o o o o o OVEL o o o o o o o
o o o o o o VELO o o o o o
o o o o o ELOV o o o o o
o o o o o LOVE o o o o o o
o o o OVEL o o o o
VELO
ELOV
ELOVEL
ELOVELOVE
LOVELOV O LOVELO
VELOVE OVE OVELOVE
AP: 2nd place 2020, Honorable Mention 2025
Submitted on July 3, 2018 for contest GET INTO SHAPE sponsored by MAUREEN MCGREAVY - RANKED 6TH
Sitting under this Weeping Willow
tree, I think of yesterdays gone by.
The special times I spent with my
Mom and Dad, I reminisce and cry.
They're no longer here, God took
them to a better place, away from
me.
Mom said," If I ever leave, look for
me in the clouds my son, that's
where I'll always be."
Now I go through life wishing I had
spent more time with them.
Wishing, I could go back in time
and relive my life again.
On a beautiful sunny day when those
beautiful clouds roam free.
I see the outline of my Mother's face,
like she said, my Mother, Anais.