Short Ash Tree Poems
Short Ash Tree Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Ash Tree by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Ash Tree by length and keyword.
Come, let’s enjoy a few cups of Silver Moon tea
while watching “You, Me & Dupree”
under the limbs of that old ash tree
where we carved our initials “D & C”
Ebony braids, moon misplaced
Indigo inferno flames
Speckled iris, abstract face
Drowsy eyes, acrylic paint
Haunted ash tree, trailing bleak
Torrid patchwork women faint
Pigeons perch on scribbled lines
Chanting fire petals dance,
Abstruse art, bewildered mind
you sit on a bench
beneath a leafy ash tree
wind sways the weathered swing
dusk is slowly falling...
suddenly on a branch – a drowsy pale owl
blinking with wise eyes
you are drowsing too...
just blow out the lantern
and sink into the fluffy quilt
passed down from your grandma
Spring time flowers
bring the sunshine
and April showers.
Blue skies bring us joy
clouds floating in the sky
thinking of memories, when I was a boy.
A robin feeding her young
butterflies so care free
looking at the splendor of the ash tree.
So sweet the smell of spring
and what joy it does bring
after winter, spring finally here.
The endangered Ash Tree
what can we say
we have somehow
numbered your days
bright in the spring
with hint of all new
in summer you shade us
and make us feel new
So wonderful in the fall
of burgundy glow
so majestic in winter
dark bark against snow
to gaze at your splendor
to wish you to stay
look intently for it has seen it's last days
Mourn for me tonight, Weeping Ash.
Break my heart and all my hopes crash.
Let your gnarled knuckles crack and creak;
Let your contorted mouth still shriek
Silently. Twisted in agonised peace
And calm, you could my soul release.
May the inveigling light shudder
In the gloom and silent thunder.
Cradle my weight in your warm heart.
Seduction or eternal hurt?
Falling leaves of the ash tree
Burned to the ground
Behind you see
The embers found
Wind flows without directional need
Branches fallen lain to fritter
Spreading remains of the withered seed
Yore the scorch the earth un wither
Sprouting stem from far you flew
Careen a trail of destination
Giving birth to hope anew
Tree’s first breath of transpiration
Coppice recapitulate
Life perpetuate
an acre of land
our very own smallholding
father scythes long grass
rows of potatoes
green runner beans, sweet carrots
mother bakes fresh bread
huge laundry baskets
filled with ripe red strawberries
small hands were stained red
a goat and two pigs
chickens and a cockerel
our morning alarm
perched upon a stool
I learn to do the milking
owl hoots in ash tree
Garden Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Dear Heart
06/10/20
Most elderly ladies
shine under a straw sunhat.
At the arboretum,
sitting under an Ash tree
(the same Ash
that she had sex under,
when she was old enough
to know better).
She leans back
on the scaled trunk
smiling at George,
who is not at all dead to her,
nor Harry, or Jim,
but at this moment
she is content to tuck them all
under her skirt
like a mother hen,
To smile
at the youngsters that pass-by
believing they know
anything about love.