le' tree, le' tree.
drop an apple to me.
le' tree, le' tree.
knock my head with a branch tree, please.
please?
pretty please?
with a cherry on top.
le' bush, le' bush.
pick a berry for me.
le' bush, le' bush.
blackberries or blue? you choose.
blackberries, strawberries, bananas count too!
le' tree gave me an orange,
le' bush picked a banana.
the both rhyme to me, I think.
no raspberries, no raspberries, they stinky to me.
no pears, no pears, they taste bad to me,
to le' tree, I plea.
Though I can hold my branch the whole year long,
I sometimes lose my grip upon the tree;
A cheeky cockatoo with beak so strong,
Or racing winds that hurry to be free.
My falling journey brings both fear and joy,
While looking up, I see my brothers bound;
What cruel winds and hungry birds destroy,
Will join our fallen kindred on the ground.
The monster sups upon our brittle bark,
And swallows all my world in blinding gold;
Yet waiting in this fierce, devouring spark,
A greater, green rebirth will soon unfold.
Though I am turned to dust upon the floor,
My ash will feed the native bush once more.
Poet's Note:100% Human-Written.This poem is a strict Shakespearean sonnet, written entirely by hand in perfect iambic pentameter with an exact ABAB CDCD EFEF GG rhyme scheme. Please be aware that AI detection tools frequently flag this piece as "100% AI" because they rely on finding rhythmic irregularity and metrical variance. The strict meter is a deliberate, human-crafted artistic constraint.
A patch of lichen I picked up
and then into my hand did cup.
The frills and shadows, in and out -
Finest fabric, without doubt.
Lacy lichen on my wrist -
Sweeter cuff does not exist.
The cool and smooth feel on my skin
I want to feel again, again.
If a bush sprite I could be
I think I would be more like me.
There was a young girl who lived in the bush,
There weren't many people around, she looked.
There were a lot of trees, tall they stood.
Bugs tiny and fast,
take care of them, Mum said she should.
When the sun rose, her skin felt good.
When the sun set, it was time to read a book.
When she picked berries, she was careful how many she took.
When the grass russled, she didn't take a look.
When the fields called, she put on her boots.
When the skies turned dark, the stars would shoot.
There was a young girl who lived in the bush,
There weren't many people around, she looked.
Though the flowers, birds and muddy puddles filled her heart up just as good.
I want to hear the possums screeching
Coming from the trees.
Their noise starts out as scratchy,
Then a terrifying scream.
The curdling of the blood they cause
Can send sane people fleeing.
The cold murderer in the bush
Is who they are seeing.
I know a possum when I hear it,
Trying not to panic.
I need to run now. Get away!
Or things could end up tragic.
There was a young girl who lived in the bush,
There weren't many people around, she looked.
There were a lot of trees, tall they stood.
Bugs tiny and fast,
take care of them, Mum said she should.
When the sun rose, her skin felt good.
When the sun set, it was time to read a book.
When she picked berries, she was careful how many she took.
When the grass russled, she didn't take a look.
When the fields called, she put on her boots.
When the skies turned dark, the stars would shoot.
There was a young girl who lived in the bush,
There weren't many people around, she looked.
Though the flowers, birds and muddy puddles filled her heart up just as good.
6:55pm 5/4/26
Ruby red cardinal
hides in the scruffy, bare bush
Hmm.. A seed perhaps?
You you can the boy out of the bush
but you cant' take the bush out of the boy
That's Me
When first I left a country school , I couldn't wait
to move, to work and reside in a major city
Three years later, couldn't wait to return to the bush
as I felt remorse and a sense of self pity
A man of simplicity, is what I claim to be
Far away from bustle, noise and angst
returning to the bush, a longing to be free
Referring to attire, a pair of shorts and tee-shirt that will simply do
No collars, ties or business suits, done that,
as the barefoot bard, I don't even own one shoe
When our lovely female postie comes up our drive to deliver a confidential letter
I'm often standing in my best attire, my birthday suit (the only suit I own)
i have to quickly run upstairs, find a pair of shorts, she probably thinks I'm now looking so much better
And if you check out all the poems I have posted on the soup
you will note I only use the form of rhyme
As a sign of my simplicity
the only one that I'll, use for eternal time
flamingoes on one foot balance
talent like monkeys on bongos
playin' clarinets are baboons
raccoons a-hootin’ and a-swayin'
lions on slide-trombones
headphones catch them cryin’
giraffes a-bangin' chimes
Times of L.A. laid off its staff
I was beating ‘round the bush
Trying to calm you down
As your words hit like a push
Put me on the ground
You exposed my misery
Said I was living a lie
And I looked inside to see
If I had a tear to cry
What you said, was true but it
Wasn’t so the other way round
Seems like Zen I must admit
One hand clap without sound
I went dreaming of the time
Where we could live together
Crossing bridges lack of sighs
In the nasty weather
Then you smiled and I replied
With the smile to you
I distracted, love, said I
And you said me too..
I hid beneath the Tree — in green —
A double Shade — of Thought —
The Bush — a lesser Sentinel —
Yet safer — than was sought —
The Wind — did whisper — through its leaves —
As if it knew — my Scheme —
To vanish — from the Human eye —
And dwell — within a Dream —
The Sparrow — perched — upon my Guilt —
And sang — as if aware —
That Souls — too frightened of the Sun —
Find Solace — in Despair —
No Mortal — came — to question Me —
The Sky — my only Guard —
I hid beneath the Tree — from Life —
And found — Myself — too hard —
shampoo that comes from jojoba
stands and cheers with a rah rah rah
softens curls in a lovely way
used for lotions too many say
jojoba bush is useful for many
in your yard, do you have any?
the cuckoo is a lazy trickster
she lays her eggs in bush warbler’s nest
remember Mayzie LaBird in Dr. Seuss’s book Horton Hears the Who?
Bush warbler is tricked by cuckoo bird.
She thinks the eggs are hers.
Takes care of them until they hatch
And then raises cuckoo’s baby as her own.
Bush
There’s a prickly bush in
the front garden literally after
his own
heart.
Love came to me like a warm fire
Hugging me in a cold wintry night
As a burning bush you engulfed me
In your flames of desire
A little delay till our souls met
Never caused any harm
It was God's miracle
That brought us together in this cosmic bond
But it takes time to embrace the pain
Of not having you near
And loving you wholeheartedly strong.
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