House Tree Poems | Examples
These House Tree poems are examples of Tree poems about House. These are the best examples of Tree House poems written by international poets.
my castle is twenty-six foot high in the top of two cottonwood trees
My daddy made it for me, he called it a tree house, but it is my fort.
My refuge, my camouflage, my hearth, my home.
I can sit here all day with a pillow, a swig of water and seven books.
I would make it eleven books, but the library is chintzy.
They will only allow me to check out seven a day.
My castle is where I go when I want to remember the best days of my childhood.
Summer days, when I could do what I wanted when I wanted.
though it has been fifty years, I can hear neighbor’s voices, and I smile.
Remembering their conversations, their arguments, their personalities.
I will never have a castle any better than this.
There was a window by the mango tree,
facing west, where sunlight spilled like secrets.
That’s where I waited,
where I last saw you—
not waving, just walking.
The curtains danced even when the wind was still.
They remembered your scent
better than I did.
I tried to forget the taste of afternoons
without your laugh in the hallway.
Tried to unhear the sound
of your keys…
not returning.
The mango tree grew quiet,
like it, too, was grieving.
Its fruits fell without reason—
like how people leave
without explanation.
Even now,
I pass that window
and forget to breathe.
This is how I remember it:
Not with fireworks or music,
but with silence,
and the ghost of your footsteps
fading into the floorboards
of a house
that no longer knows your name.
blue pines sparkle
under snowy gray sky
on top of voluptuous hills
the evergreen in Winter -
their slant suggests skiers,
and worshippers
around a bonfire - the red house.
the main house in uplift
on the port hill
with conifer’s oceanic tint
xanthous-blue streaks
calming round moon
forest points to the stars
and the fluffy, wet snow, gently falling
I didn’t plant that garden tree
But thinking, I just let it be
I knew I should have cut it out
But felt within to let it sprout
And so, as seasons came and went
I pruned this tree, its bole I bent
Around the gable of my shed
But left the limbs above my head
The years passed by and I grew old
I hated heat and shunned the cold
My garden work became a chore
As summer days my patience wore
But resting underneath that tree
Allowed me time to watch and see
The beauty of my garden wrought
And all the neighbored friends it brought
A bunny comes to taste my beets
While shaded so, I rest my feet
A bumble-bee’s contralto thrum;
A promise of much more to come
Badgers, robins, the house finch red
All come with hopes of being fed
And I, too tired to wield my hoe,
Am glad I let that elm tree grow.
Honeysuckle trees have grown all over my yard
What can I do with this? Being a bard….
I counted the ones that are the easiest to see
They came into our house and commandeered our TV
Now a gang, they have a mascot and are wearing colors
We are just the start one told me. There are many others.
They demanded I make them a breakfast buffet.
My husband asked me “when are they going away?”
My writing muse tells me next to nothing, so I could not reply.
I am hoping these trees get tired of TV by and by.
They are watching Matlock now, as I fix them lunch.
Make it salty, a honeysuckle said to me, and make it crunch.
Flammable I’m nor dry tinder,
Scare me nor threaten of lightning,
Past autumn and chilly winter,
I look forward to the next spring.
I’m already left with few leaves,
Let worst of autumn’s fall arrive,
Go not by my dry woody frame,
The tree in me is all alive.
What if covered I’m with this frost,
Just around the corner is sun,
I see life well past all this change,
Every season to me is fun.
A meditating sage, no arid stem,
You had better go not by my lean frame.
__________________________
Sonnet |01. 04.2025| tree, Nature, autumn, spring
Note: Many trees in India experience autumn and spring more than once a year. I watched two Peepal trees and one Neem in front of my house shedding leaves in just a few days and again acquiring them equally fast-- from a skeleton wooden frame to a tree with shimmering tender, light-coloured leaves in sun. A tree is always alive, full of life, no matter how it might appear. Looking at it and marvelling of its love of life, to an aging old man, in no mean envy, this sonnet happened.
Two angry crows
Perched high in a tree
Covered in snow
Dancing the breeze
Broken branches sway
And decrepit leaves
Fall
A moment in time
Without resolve
Leaning in to see
A quarrel of greed
A nut, perhaps a seed
Stolen in need
Three angry crows
Perched high in a tree
I glanced for a moment
Laughed
And walked away
Reaching the house
The arguing fades
Perhaps, a meeting of the minds
But, who's to say
While you're there, beneath the sun's warm glow,
Where green trees whisper secrets, and soft breezes flow,
By Bootleg Creek, where the waters gleam bright,
Purple and red Crowley Ridge agates catch the light.
With hands in the earth, you'll dig and pry,
Getting very dirty, with mud to the sky,
Each treasure you uncover, has a story to tell,
In the heart of the wild, where the rockhounds dwell.
Scattered by the river, pink and blue drusy shine,
Glimmers of beauty, nature's design,
Up on the hill, where the green jasper lies,
A hidden gem waiting, beneath the vast skies.
On Haunted Ridge, where the quartz crystals gleam,
You'll wander in wonder, lost in a dream,
And by the old dude's house, where the petrified wood,
Whispers of ages, in silence it stood.
The sunshine dances through leaves overhead,
As you sift through the soil, where the earth's stories spread,
Each find a reminder of nature's sweet care,
In this world of wonder, oh, I wish I were there.
I read her old letters from time to time
Hoping one day she may still write
Pretending she's still just miles away
I'll send my letters out anyway
As I read the words I still hear her voice
In these passing moments my eyes get moist
All these times she talks about I remember well
Will you be gone very long? Why must you go at all?
I keep my thoughts, my memories
And share them with my family
All of us at your house on Christmas Eve
Say Mr. Postman do you have a letter in there for me?
I still feel her presence by the Christmas Tree
The sun disappears much, much later, an hour later to be exact.
This translates into having more daylight and a longer afternoon,
To watch the strolling peacocks in the park, and to have more fun
Admiring the baby bulbs metamorphosing into flowers at night.
The lily flowers are most of the time ephemeral, lasting hours,
Rarely a few days before changing into leaves, which eventually
Will be dried up by the warm air or the rays of the sun. Beauty
Is temporary, so enjoy the spring season and the summer flowers.
I have vivid memories of the shedding cherry tree, which brought
The beauty of spring in front of my house in the dead-end street.
Oh! I miss the atypical moment, when the green lawn was not neat.
Sometimes, the entire top of the hill was littered with falling flowers.
It was strange to sniff the unusual scent of the weather-beaten petals.
Oh! I miss the hours sitting on top of the window like a distraught cat.
Copyright © March 2020, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
A majestic banyan tree standing tall and free,
Ages old, witnessing my life's journey .
In the lane's corner, its presence stays,
Reminding me of trajectory of happiness and sorrows.
I reminisce sitting by my bunglow's windowpane,
Watching roots curled deep, like life's enduring strain.
Birds nesting high, their songs so sweet,
Leaves fluttering green, and children squealing with delight at your feet.
Unfazed by storms or scorching sun's rays,
You stand serene, teaching life's precious ways.
Symbolic of eternity, benevolent and true,
Your roots remind us of our origins anew.
Mystic aura surrounding you ,spiritual feelings rise,
In your shadow, life's lessons unfold before our eyes.
A grand old banyan tree wise and strong and free,
A testament to life's journey, for me.
Copy right @tej.patnaik
Down a winding road
At the very end
Is a tiny house standing
Near a forest pass
Its a tiny house
With two trees standing
In front of windows
They are very tall
No lights seen inside
The trees blocks the light
This house is abandon
No one lives there now
orange tree guarded the woman’s fantasies daily
She visited him often with her pony dog Bailey
sometimes they would drag along a yellow duck
He had a hoarse weird bark, that was no cluck.
The woman sat under orange tree and plotted fine.
Sometimes she wrote a page, other times a line.
Her giant yellow cat would play beside her with his mouse.
The rodent was purple, and lived inside their house.
Orange tree felt respected by these five.
They liked to frolic, play, joke, and dive.
under his shade, which made him feel special indeed.
He was grateful to the woman, for planting his seed.
I planted a tree of love
Grew so high it could house the doves.
Nevertheless, I was astounded,
how my ego has been dumbfounded,
And even then its growth put me at solace.
My happiness grew with the tree:
And on that lonely steep it stood
Nothing but wonder ever could
And if it breaks—oh how it would
My love would break, ever should.
Hammer and nails
And pine and paint,
Made by hands ...
Earns no complaint
A roof and walls
Not much more,
A hole in the wall
Is my front door
Put there for me
... A place to go,
Just to get out of
The rain and snow
Home sweet home
In a rustic realm,
Hidden up and away
... In a shady elm
One safe haven ...
No matter what occurred,
A place to go ...
For one small bird.