Gnarled Poems | Examples

Evermore

While wending my way one sunny day
in no particular direction
on stopping for reflection
I took a look at flowers by the rustic fence
beside a gnarled old tree
and was amused to see
beautiful colours and textures
which it seemed to me could only be
a painting picturesque
packed with pinks and reds yellows too
while beyond there lay
a field of green beneath a sky of blue
an avid artist if not gardener
it must have been
to have created
such as the sight I had seen
tho' my words won't describe
don't do justice to the sight I saw
it is etched in my memory
and will remain so evermore

Gnarled Hearts

peace is playing hide and seek once again
a flash of God sheen just beyond the bend
black constellation of battle
hymns twisted into death rattle
gnarled souls are the toll we pay for sin

Gnarled

The uniqueness of trees and their gnarled vines that show their true beauty

Gnarled - Gnarled, Graceful, Green Poetry Contest

Twisted yarns in warped interlace 
Like love that's caught in cold embrace 
Old bright spark refuses to flow 
Like a kiss wrapped in flakes of snow 

For, one wants care and one wants fame 
So sad, their paths can't be the same 
Two yarns bound tight but just can't rhyme 
Like love enslaved by space and time 

Even at times, their paths do cross 
Only time mourns the chance they loss 
So close, but they can't flow in tune 
Like two feet caught in sands of dune

2nd place

Gnarled

the floor smashes into her wrist
twisting the limb
she didn't see the floor, wet

aged 100
her mobility is stress heavy
like being priced out of a home
her fall of unexpected angles
with balance of nature, near gone
sometimes a mis-fire between mind and body
her living in strange places, 
sometimes a drift of confusion

poking out from my mother's cast
purple fingers
swollen 
Cuban cigar fat
gnarled
in a body that pushes her down
like a heavy window slammed shut

she sees each short walk as a victory
when resistance is a national anthem
when the puzzle of gnarled still allows a place to breath
            still allows a way to seek   higher ground

Gnarled

It was a pristine town, 
Recalcitrant to taking off her ancient gown, 
The houses brought back memories, 
The ones got from ancient stories. 

The town was bordered by trees, 
It was also flanked by hills, 
The trees were old, rough, and twisted, 
I had some of their names listed. 

I met an old sage, 
He asked me to guess his age, 
It was a difficult task for me, 
He was calm like a tranquil sea. 

I've never seen a town haloed by nature, 
And of an exuberant stature,  
An experience I'll forever treasure, 
The passage of time can't foster its erasure.

Gnarled

"Darkness may hide the trees and flowers from the eyes, but it cannot hide love from the soul." Rumi


gnarled, giant twisted roots
connect the family tree....
so much dysfunction
removed, rescued child
gnarled roots dangle hanging on....
before love showed way
an empty effect
deep within the soul that last....
until dawn cracked
a longing for love
which appears at first light one day....
Holy Spirit filled the soul

Gnarled

Gnarled tree rooted firm, fallen bark,
abundant earthen ground cradles.
Horned larks and thrushes beat their wings,
wavering within sun's gold rays.
Lace shade dance a hush call, seep by
a calm sigh and the incessant
babbling of an adjoining brook.
Delicious breeze, reviving kiss,
entice utter lull in veiled dream.
A world, a marriage joined as one,
desire of only pleasant warmth.
A muse of chill wind and aching
darkness that stirs snow fall with wings.
The old bare and brittle, gnarled limbs
gaze out towards humble night sky.

Gnarled

gnarled hands ignited,
with the maelstrom of belief.
knotty knees do bend.
unseen, the heavens
opened up, did look beyond
the darkness of earth,
to see a pin drop.
ancient one, in the gnarled woods,
God is drawn to you.
the straw in haystack -
most dwellers go through back doors,
but she’s kneels in church -
with bent frame, eyes shut,
a prayer shawl around shoulders,
cold, yet immersed in light.
with lanterns, she joins
others in trimming their wicks -
firestorm of belief.
a humble leader -
behold, lifetime membership
in peaceful dwelling.
many are the weeds -
celebrate on holidays,
they’re pregnant with bread and wine.
she’s not at the bar -
look for her at the altar
with her rough gnarled hands.
on arthritic knees,
she’s closest to the Savior -
he sees her asking
and He draws closer
to see ev’ry tear that falls
begging “one more soul…”
Christ gives her what she asks for.

Gnarled

Life is very difficult. One of the most ancient of religious ideas that emerges everywhere, I would say, is that life is essentially suffering. - Jordan Peterson


Lonely like graying walls, timeworn
Facing the past with a shy gasp,
Subtle shadows, inklings forlorn
Stealing each feeling in its grasp

Gnarled hands serve the abandoned soul
Lonely like graying walls, timeworn
Darkness reflects pains she’ll console
Still, through the sorrows hearts will mourn

Rustling in the night, wounds will scorn
Fickle are words from this lost world
Lonely like graying walls, timeworn
Beneath the sunlight’s joy, rhymes whirled

Ancient verses free hope’s still song
Nought so gentle as hearts reborn
Destined for God’s peace all along
Lonely like graying walls, timeworn

Gnarled

Oh, worn and twisted, gnarled old tree-
such lovely art in you, I see.
Your huge limbs curve and intertwine
in rhythmic motion by design.

Your crooked, tortured, ragged stance
presents a vision to enhance
this sculptured beauty you amassed
by feat of nature, unsurpassed.

Rough-hewn, contorted, ragged, bent-
you stir an art of motion sent
to eyes that can appreciate
such balance from a tangled state.

You pull me in with outstretched arms
to love the beauty of your charms.
Though rocky, gnarled, and rugged be-
you are so beautiful to me.

Gnarled

The gnarled hands of woodworkers know the pain
a grip that's crippled from years of constant work
to grasp or carry a momentous strain
this problem is a continuous irk

Nothing can be done but take it in stride
it's a pain from a lifetime that's chosen
there's no complaint, no regrets, only pride
though at times, all the fingers are frozen

They lock firmly in place, become stiff and rigid
as the hands of old craftsmen are calloused
they're earned from hardwoods tightly fitted
made perfect so the work can be purchased

hands of a furniture maker are hard
they're worn and bent, sometimes gnarled and scarred

Gnarled

Grandmother rocks in rocking chair
Her careworn hands at rest in lap
Blue eyes bright she seems aware
Overcome with sleep taking a nap.

Beautiful embroidery lies neglected
Gnarled fingers, painful, no longer agile
Rainbow silk colours forgotten not selected
Advancing years have made her fragile.

Ancient love keeps grandmother company
On lap faithful companion does gently purr
Calico cat the colour of amber honey
Rocking chair rocks neither will stir.

Gnarled But Mature

Aged,gnarled rooted in him
Fallen,but not cast off are you

As wild boughs engrafted thereto
Fallen,but not cast off are you

Gnarled

Age gnarls, weather beats skin to flaky dryness. 
Wrinkles and lines, furrows, knots and blotches
Twist and contort the skin of babies and youths
to a knurled, rough, compliant easy to grip surface.
The rough and worn acrimony of old age,
Despite the crabby, cantankerous snarls and grumbles,
Can be gripped, manipulated and convinced to comply and yield.
For now there is little else to lose, little else to try anew.
It is the gnarls of age that knurls the grip to yield.

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