foundation started
around us life emerges
growing constantly
My
kindness
is not
niceness
but I know that
I am the truth
because I belong
to an eternally
growing and
deeply
rooted
family tree.
The roots of man go so deep
Some little rodent perhaps
Thoroughly relieved the dinosaurs
Are at last all gone.
And here and now
Always a mid point between past and future
The future likewise unforeseeable
Other than a vague sense of continuity.
From that future
A hundred million years from now
This past I sit in
Will be as unknown and unrecognizable
As my little mammalian ancestor’s.
Does this make it all meaningless?
Hell no!
It makes each step and stage
Miraculous.
(8/11/26)
she is an oak tree
roots drink storms in deep silence
still she shades the dawn
There she goes
As fast as her legs can run
Enforcing all effort
To hide what she's gone and done
Moments of deep rage
Popped the proverbial top
The ones standing near
Clothed in spew that won't stop
Years and years he stuffed
The words that could never be spoken
Lest proper folks learn and discover
The child he willfully abused and left broken
Same thing happened to parents
Three generations back
But the difference is
They were filling time with what they lacked
The one that stands tall in the end
Comes far removed from time and space
A pure soul, clear and open
To endure and transmute all fear grown in that place
....running through roots
Written by Trudy Schrader on 07-18-2026
In everlasting black
An oath forged with Death.
A seed is planted
waiting for the harvest.
Soil from cemeteries and memories,
water from angel tears,
light from the furnace that lies below,
the seed grows and blossoms into crimson hunger.
A colossal tombstone in the shape of an oak,
draining nutrients from the soil of souls.
Toxic sap and burning bark,
the tree of Death grows in silence.
As the red leaves begin to fall
and the wood grows weak
there is nothing left for the roots to drain.
Blood pours from the tree’s veins.
ancient tree roots
gnarled by earth's storms' stresses
hands' veins show
The taller a tree rises
The deeper its roots do sink
To brave the wafts of wild winds;
The higher a man mounts up
Lower his grips need descend
The ground of humility.
Rooted into oblivion
Set feet first in dirt
Lumpy cavities crashing upward
Gnarly outer layer
Barnacles breaking out
Lost in the years of growth
Final storm tips the top
Brushing through cracking limb
Tipping with lost balance
Exposing twisted lines
Broken from the earth
Woman or tree
Still beautiful to me
Soft hands fold laundry,
laughter spills like loose buttons~
warmth in wrinkled sheets.
No blood binds us, yet we stay~
roots tangled, holding the earth.
CONCEPTUAL ROOTS
cultivated
attractions
of
blissful
abodes
discovered
pediments
stylobates
&typana
illusions
immense
contrasted
concorde
on
enshrined
podiums
of
a varied
eclectic
facade
The tree stands quiet
In the absence of birds.
Its branches, once bright with song,
Now sway with a lonely sound.
The wind moves through its leaves,
And they whisper like tired memories.
Empty nests rest on fragile twigs—
Small homes that once held warmth.
It remembers the gentle mornings
When songs rose with the sun,
When little heads lifted from the nest
And the sky seemed full of promise.
How alive those hours were.
Now the color of its leaves fades,
Turning yellow with the season—
And with longing.
The birds have flown
Toward warmer lands,
Following a softer light,
Dreaming of safer days ahead.
The old tree remains behind,
Rooted in faithful soil.
It feels the cold more deeply now,
But it does not curse the sky.
It knows that wings are meant to travel,
And youth must search for distant hope.
Still, in the long evenings of winter,
When the air grows thin and still,
It holds their vanished songs
Like a quiet ache within its heart—
Proud that it once gave them shelter,
Even if it must now stand alone.
[Placed 2nd : Standard Contest
Sponsor : Tania Kitchin]
______________________
hug
extracts
incense smoke
penetrate veins
woody breast opened
rooted solid
smiling leaves
waving
dance
_____________________________________
Poet’s Note : Cedar is an important Native American ceremonial tree, the bark used for incense and as a purifying herb. It is associated with prayer, healing, dreams & protection. Many consider the Cedar a symbol of sacredness & providence. Its bark, used in sweat lodge ceremonies has a sweet, strong smell ~ making it conducive to spiritual work. This tree symbolises purification & inner transformation.
In ancient Native American rituals, tribes danced around Cedars saluting their attributes. I start this Ninette with HUG & end it with DANCE as salute to the POWER OF ONE.
great ancestral oak
weathered by turning seasons
rooted in my blood
What does a sapling need to grow?
Is water, sunlight, and soil enough,
or does it need something more?
An ungrateful sapling—
it does not grow.
At what unfortunate hour
did I choose this seed to sow?
What does this sapling need?
An adversarial being.
I wonder what kind of fruit
its ominous seed will bring.
The sapling whispered to itself,
Maybe I need love,
love that doesn’t judge,
love that does not keep score.
The whisper faded into silence.
Maybe I need freedom.
Freedom to remain fruitless or fruitful.
Freedom that feeds the soil
without binding the roots.
The leaves wilt and droop.
The stem begins to peel.
Leaves curl inward.
The sapling can no longer name
what it feels.
It yearns
for what it desires but never receives,
its stem turning brittle
for daring to want.
The sapling no longer feels
anchored to the soil.
Roots that once dreamed
of reaching far and wide
begin to coil.
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