Branching Poems

Follow my lead

Dominoes in a sequenced pattern
branching out randomly askew across long table
~ mix-and-matching dainty dots



Wordku: 5-7-5 words

AP: 2nd place

I Wish I Knew

I wish I knew how acorns grew
Into a mighty oak,
But I’ve no clue and nor do you
Nor any other folk.

For certain seeds fulfill their needs
Yet take so long to grow
That, unlike weeds, our human speeds 
Of life are much too slow.

We might take heart and see how smart
Are seedlings as they sprout,
But we’ll depart before they start
Their skyward branching out.

where are the cat prints

polka dot curtains in the form of dotted swiss
light and airy, fuzzy and bumpy, minute and white
polka dotted pillows in reds, blues and oranges
unusual in grandma’s house; everything here usually has a dog on it

She has a dog-print couch, dog-paw-print carpeting,
dog apron, dog dishtowel, dog toilet paper holder.
Maybe this is her idea of branching out?
Where are the cat prints? I ask grandma.

This annoys her.
She despises cats.
One bit her in 1943.

Branches

Gold the young moon
above an Andalusian grove.
Love vines bind us
as we share the same wine.

In a sterile Spanish clinic
her cat-scan is read in a dead language.

I keep looking at the stark image,
hoping to see Olive and Date Palms
not these smoldering shadows,
branching through her being,
as if she were a vineyard
on fire.

The Arrival

The hidden one moves in silence
with violent footsteps
pounding the pavement
While grounding itself to disengage
from grooves designed to uproot
it found its level
Leveling to find balance between
the liquid & solid only enhanced
its brolic nature
There's no frolicking between 
the halves described in nature
for this is a serious
matter of things
This being flows through a world
akin to dreams
but is awake to the
world it is seeing
Its eyes are open to views
above & below
for it knows you need both
on this plane of being
to grow
This is growth from a seed
that was buried in darkness
& rose but not without
being detected
I'm not sure what you're seeing
but what is being projected
is the truth
& nothing but
No rut is deep enough to stop
you from shining 
& branching out leaving
the dirt behind
Be blind to the attacks 
on your mind
but feel them to internalize
then use it to grind
My mind operates like night
& day
so the sun and moon
are its compass
We're in the middle of it all
winter
spring
summer
& fall 
but no season 
is a losing one
I have compassion for those
lost in the darkness of night
& don't see that
the sun has come

Of Sparrows and Trees

It cocks an eye at me.
I recall, as a boy, I stood
by a window looking at a sparrow
just like this one.
Every feather could be the same,
even the mien and stance
– the same.
I had never thought of myself
as a tree, yet all my life
I’ve been branching away from first roots.
I'm still changing into something else,
but not this little bird,
it has perched itself on a branch
of my life,
and is caught within a timeless lens
forever.

Felix Culpa

Do you regret, when you make a mistake?
While I surely understand your concern,
do you know that you'll get an even shake,
a priceless education in return?
So, go ahead, and give yourself a break,
for it is life's fumbles that make us learn.
So say, "felix culpa" or "happy fault" -
there is no need for self-assault.

Tragically hurt, no longer content,
you find life comes without a guarantee.
All harmful things, you can never prevent.
Maybe, it is helpful for you to see
that each and ev'ry good and bad event
is the divine branching of your life's tree.
So, say, "felix culpa" or "happy fault" -
blest departures from the path of default.

When genes do not properly replicate,
It's not a problem, but a solution.
You might things it's a dirty word, "mutate",
but it's nature's brilliant contribution.
As the epochs and eons pass, just wait,
and you'll see glorious evolution.
So, say, "felix culpa" or "happy fault" -
without them, life on earth comes to a halt.

Forest Floor

The discarded dead find an unused beauty,
an afterlife that curls, re births,
tunnels and reshapes -
a mulching of a former season's thin bones.
Mortality buds from an emptiness
long before the seed encloses it,
a mottled mold unwinds death to life.
See the genetics of the unseen,
see the shedding and replenishing,
a branching polymorphic architecture
that constantly furrows and gardens
the grave.
A self-determined choreography
of stemless minds, the unseen labor
before the upsurge, before the foundation
and the root.

our poem tree

flowers
foster
all

round
any
matter

whomever
whatever
whenever

wherever
whyever
however

be of
poetree
branching


len

Your Rose, Love

Your petals wilt,
Your rose has resolute.

Fearing its completion,
Its ballet is sung,
Dragging its roots along
Your rose has begun withering.

Dirt covered masking
Leaves branching of torment
To drag your flower’s petals
Across the crimson pavements.

Your rose weeps and mourns,
Sorrow overwhelm –
Overwatering its cycle of growth.

Your rose wilts,
Yet you oversee its potential
Why must you carelessly love it?
Tend to its time of need, love.

Your rose requires – yearns
For love
Yet your love has become no more
Than a desirable response.

Sugar Maple Home

To be left bare to all rhyme and most reason
From gnarled wounds of sweet nectar eaten
A Mother whom suckled life, now weakened
Still they come in glee, lapping there the given

In her bloomed bouquet of chronomantic hues
She was resplendent as she captivated views
Coyly she stripped away at her prophetic news
Fall has come to hibernate into his nestled snooze

Thirteen points stretch from Sea to Shining Sea
Proudly branching Freedom to stand Tall for Thee
Blend into her blanket of Oz piled high to your knee
How warm it is to hug intently OUR Sugar Maple Tree

Pregnant with Poems

A mind, a fertile field,
sown with seeds of wisdom old,
and Nai Talim's gentle fold.

Each classroom, 
a blossoming tree,
roots deep in Dewey's decree,
branching out, 
a vibrant spree.

Words, like raindrops,
fall and fill,
gaps of understanding still,
with Freire's hope, 
a whispered thrill.

Montessori's quiet, 
purposeful space,
a womb of learning, 
time and grace,
where children build their embrace.

A symphony of voices rises,
a chorus of diverse surprises,
in Gardner's many hues, 
they thrive.

The belly of education swells,
with solutions, tales, and spells,
for every student, every school,
where all philosophies, 
make their cool,
unfolding, potent,
sweet and whole.

A pregnant hush, 
a hopeful sigh,
the future whispered from the sky,
a poem written, to try.

The Empty Room

an empty room
and I stare at the ceiling
blank eyes and a blanker slate, 
my poker face
arms spread over my head
all I can see are
whirring blades blurring into
creamy paint and
the small cracks in between
the shadows in my chest,
mahogany
branching out their needles,
ebony
one pricks my eye
red ink taints crisp alabaster
damps it slow, slow, slow
I exhale shaky, shaky, shaky
heavy lids droop to a close
and no one sees
no one can.

Bloom

The flower blooms, 
Petals unfurl, 
A beacon of beauty, 
Sometimes in a harsh world.

The poetic muse,
Takes flight on the breeze, 
Words dance and shimmer, 
Like leaves in the trees.

Ideas take root, 
Branching and growing, 
A garden of verses,
Where emotions are flowing.

chaotic reality

integer exponents create an...
old greek geometry
while...

fraction exponents create a...
realistic geometry
called...

fractal geometry as seen in...
tree branching and
all...

other existences of time as a...
chaotic being of infinite
change...

in the continuing now of the...
moments we call
time...


stan sand

• Short Branching Poems
• Famous Branching Poems
• Best Branching Poems
• Read Branching Poems
• Long Branching Poems
• Branching Quotes