Branched Poems | Examples

TO THE VINING CHILDREN, VIBING

TO THE VINING CHILDREN…VIBING…
(Apropos Of A Scriptural Inspiration) 

Let us be as the Vines
Of The Gardener;
Let us who have been pruned
With love and awareness,
Have branches sharing fruits
Of Truth, Peace, and Love:-
Indeed, may our branches
Never ever be void
Of His divine wisdom’s guidance;
For we are poets of the tree of life:
Rooted, trunked, branched, leaved,
And fruited with the liberated word:-

As chosen vines of His love,
Let us continue vibing,
Fruiting awareness, inspiration,
Guidance, peace, and love,
Through the seeds germinating
In the creative fertile soil
Of our gardening poetic mind;
And its onederful oneness, 
In its onement of labors of love;
In our blessed poetic gardening
Of divine liberating inspiration.

Eight Years Writing Poetry is Not Enough

I discovered www.poetrysoup which lists styles of poetry
This site shows you examples of haiku, senryu, alliteration, monorhyme
Diminished hexaverse, acroustic, shape poems, rhyme, and much more
The first day I discovered this site I wrote eight poems; all a different style

By the time I branched out to www.allpoetry, I was a bit more confident
I believe that now I know a teensy tiny bit about what poetry is.
Delving into this art for eight years, has not been nearly enough
There is so much to learn; I feel I barely know anything yet.

Here is what I do know. It is fun for me to write every day.
I set a daily goal of ten poems; I usually make this goal.
Have made this goal for four years.
I like sharing my poems, and appreciate every comment.

As a thank you to others, I hold six poetry contests simultaneously.
I would hold twelve, but we are limited to only six.
A thesaurus and scientific fact book for children are my references.
If I run out of ideas I say “what if” and create outrageous scenarios.
I love writing poetry; for I am a storyteller.

IN THE SPRING OF CONFUSION: A TANKA DUO

Tree-branched bird staring,

Looking me right in the eyes;

We both confused:

Humsn and natural nature,

Inhibiting springing peace:-



Wars' twofold nature:

Destructive storms and bombings;

Both dooming in spring:-

God's spring cleaning is coming;

Let us get to sowing peace:-

Poetry Soup

prompts are
posted

all types,
daily

some are
not strict

with few
guidelines

others
with more

detailed
guidelines

make my
brain cells

create
new thoughts!

since I
started

on this
website

I’ve learned
new forms

I have 
branched out

thanks to
the Soup

The breathing, bare branched tree outside the kitchen window?

She shivers about, tense
at the inhospitable world 
blinds and plexiglass seal frightened creatures from. 
Rocking
from root to root — 
in front, in back, in 
the sun’s silhouette, the wind fancies her social anxious, as if 
her and I were not sustained by the same substance, as if 
our roads will not diverge. When I 
learn her shiver, she softens, then jerks 
her bough closer 
with the reluctant certitude of soul
wanting to imagine glass as air.

IN SAGE TREED INSPIRATION

IN SAGE TREED INSPIRATION

Standing in the forested arena
Beneath one of the multiplicities 
Of the ethnicities of barked sage trees
Reining in the mutual oneness
Of the equanimity of their being,
My spirituality of mind turned its focus
To thoughts of the Crucifixion, Resurrection,
And indeed, the fulfilled glorious Ascension:-

At that moment, it dawned upon me,
The symbolic role that sage trees
Have played in the lives of humanity–
From crosses to branched stages of lynchings–
As living symbolic reminders of life’s tribulations:-

And at that very serene bell ringing moment,
My mind canvassed a profound awareness:
Today’s sage trees stream to us a message
Of faithful resurrection and renewed healing life
As we observe them sojourning nature's seasons
From summer to fall–to winter–and on to spring:-

N.B.: May your mind be likewise canvassed
        And enlighteningly streamed with their
        Profound sage treed inspiration.

Crimes of the Heart

If I was gifted meant to be,
drift o'er the waves a shining sea,
shift the limbs and branched canopies,
sift the brambles edged a lea.

Might this time be of arrogance?
Contrite that plagues inheritance,
red light districts embarrass us,
whites of stars shift in defiance.

Be content in doing nothing,
A prudent soul would try to sing,
The student aimed degree missing,
Impudent tongue when found will swing.

The Manna

A soloist Java Sparrow flits,
A cathedral canopy of arched branched leaves,
The sparkling daylight dances the vast green space,
Moss glut rock form protrudes aground sits,
Pews of raw design entertain flocks trade eaves,
Sparrows respect prompts to spring cascading grace,
Heaven gifted natural blessings flow,
Dove coos the flock of Sparrow's faithful pace,
A breath of peace on Earth nature receives,
Bestilled feathers as the sun sets aglow,
~God's Face ...

Ash

An Ash tree tumbled down last winter,
it is only a wooden effigy now,
branched still,
limbs askew,
leftover as a lingering image
of one hour of violence.

It was a head-storm, it got into
the marrow of things,
wolf-winds tore at its canopy,
eclectic daggers struck its roots.

Fire felled - it smoked for hours,
bark scored and etched with ashes.

We did not see this,
the tempest shuttered our minds,
yet we heard
the rebounding crash,
and the longer shudder.

In the morning,
mother took her hatchet,
put on thick rubber boots,
and went to work
harvesting the easier reached kindling,
while I mourned the loss
of a climbing tree.

This year its bones are still there,
a corpse blocking a river towpath,
still reminding
those who pass that way,
of the suddenness of life.

In This Life

I am me 
born in 1974 
grew up in a small town 
branched out into Big City Orlando 
lived on the wild side 
explored the Hoosier State 
settled back into small town Ohio 
lived, laughed loved my life 
cherished times with family and friends 
met some amazing people 
who have been a big influence in my life 
hoping to accomplish more 
in this life

Fallen Leaves

Farewell to you, ornamental russet leaves of Fall,
and your crimson and golden windswept tresses.
You danced to bamboo flutes at Summer's ball
while wearing tangerine and sage green dresses.

You whirled and twirled happily before you fell
at the rooted feet of majestic oaks and elms,
growing on every mountain, in valleys and dell.
Your varied mantle of blush always overwhelms.

Autumn stripped the limbs where you used to cling
to branched hands and fingers reaching to the sky.
There you whispered welcome to birds on the wing.
But pines keep their leaves. I'm left wondering why.

I should never question Mother Nature's reasons
for changing the clothing on trees like paper dolls,
or covering them with blankets in Winter's season
when she gifts us with beauty in crystal snow falls.

I'll look for you when Springtime bestows new birth
unless Jack Frost decides to stick around and stall.
You'll adorn the oaks and elms throughout the Earth
until you take flight again in the brisk days of Fall.

Passive-Aggressive

Global warming fuels climate change;
that's why the weather is acting strange.

Pollution and deforestation;
now affects every single nation.

Our planet is becoming crowded;
folks are scared; their judgment is clouded.

Xenophobia is on the rise;
people harbor hatred in their eyes.

Everyone, it seems, is filled with rage;
we're behaving like rats in a cage.

Passive-aggressive is the new fad;
videotaping Karens; how sad.

Free speech has branched into spreading hate
and preaching violence as of late.

And yet, we cannot abandon hope;
we'll get past this; we'll find ways to cope.

We are the masters of our domain,
given free will; we will not choose pain.

I pray that democracy survives
intact; outside library archives.

We may well wish we had it someday;
then realize we gave it away.

Cage

my brain has its own life,
its own conversations,
never-ending circumlocutions

this confabulation of memory
leaves me unsure of
the reality of my thoughts

is this a chemical misstep,
a minuscule of glutamate
misplaced or missing

or is it a mistake in my
biological majuscules,
an A or a G gone awry,
leaving mental havoc in its wake

or perhaps just a wiring mishap,
a failing to bridge synapses to
the branched flourishes of dendrites,
leaving me thirsty for truth,
a truth now conflated with errata

can the brain heal itself,
restore effaced letters 
to historiated initials
or will it descend into darkness,
gradually ceasing its conversations,
forgetting all spelling,
and become a silent grey cage

Rolling Back Memories

A muted awakening this morning 
By a gentle wind driven rain
Beating a light tat rat tat rat
On the half open window pane,
Waking me with the trio of
Rain, whispering breeze
And the sighing of swaying 
Many branched trees,
Rolling back the memories,
Teenaged late mornings in bed
In the little village cottage
Hands clasped behind my head
In a sort of magic detached state
Of wind and tree and bird song
Peaceful, enduring, lasting
The whole day and night long.
A world never ever thought to change
But, now except in memory, long gone.
Time’s moved on, life got faster 
Villages no longer isolated
As distances shrunk,
Journey times decimated 
And, in my old age in my home
Once again encircled by trees
I can lie in bed in my dotage and
Once again listen to a singing breeze,
Recapture that sense of awe and peace
With a  noise that can never ever fail
To bring me peace in advancing age.
Is life a circle, a snake biting it’s tail’
Does time, in some way reverse 
And then restart its flow 
As fashions start and stop
And trends and foibles come and go.

Squirrel With Raspberry

Raspberry, as glaringly large
Package with bulk, bulging.
Squirrel-eyed and squirrel-grasped.
Nuts, bells; enough weighing!

Thinks me, thinks he, if and once dropped:
"The spillage! Red flood-tide!
Every brown leaf to re-tint!
As yet branched high and wide!"

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