Memorial Tree Poems | Examples
These Memorial Tree poems are examples of Tree poems about Memorial. These are the best examples of Tree Memorial poems written by international poets.
The tree that stands at Kidder Creek
Reminds us of our friend
Who was called away from us,
Her life on earth to end.
This tree so brightens all our sight
When thereupon we gaze,
It lets us know that we still live
Until our last of days.
A blossom here, a blossom there,
but quickly flowers fall;
Our friend here we remember
Was a flower that touched us all.
We gather here ‘neath Laura’s tree,
The friend who left us so
Was a beacon for all to see,
A tree that will always grow.
When we kill a tree
Does a forest sigh
Rustle with grief that
One of them should die.
Is there apprehension,
Do the trees even hear,
The clinking clanking sound
As the felling gang draws near.
The real flowers of the world,
The lungs of the Earth,
Helping cleanse the air from
the moment of their birth.
Their beauty being replaced
By a much lesser scene
As we uproot the trees
To plant Soya bean.
Do the trees around the world
Hear the grieving crying
From swathes of woodland as
They sense their colleagues dying.
Will there be a memorial service
When they've killed the last tree
Will they follow into extinction
The last wild bee.
When the Earth is levelled
And sterile and neat
Under chamfered layers
Of reinforced concrete
And the air gets heavy
With every breath a chore
Each one less satisfying than
The one just gone before
Will we regret we didn't listen
To the almost silent pleas
That rustled through the branches
Carried by the last gentle breeze.
Will a silent protester
Surreptitiously sow
Handfuls of acorns to watch
New Oak saplings grow.
A joy it is to see
planted in his honor
A Memorial Tree
Roots, memories of Milton
and a kind act for the ecosystem
Forget-Me-Nots shall be written
by your poetry pals, ‘till then
RIP
Lewis Milton Hankins
[Poet]
December 5, 1941 ~ December 22, 2022
Paris at Christmas
Paris at Christmas
city of lights for a week
streets decorated
Eiffel Tower lit
like a Christmas tree aglow
tourists staring up
shoppers bustling crowds
bells ring; children caroling
joy is everywhere
rosy-cheeked Santas
wrapping presents with ribbon
in department stores
light sprinkle of snow
sleigh ride through the Tuileries
wrapped tight in blankets
by L Milton Hankins
December 5, 2022
I Am Anaya comment: Feliz cumpleaños a ti! Belated, hope it was a nice
one Milton. Paris must be on your mind, your many memories of Paris
are joyous! 12/6/22
It was Milt's Birthday, and I could feel the joy in his poem, I felt it!
po...at tree...barks..."MESS...AGES..."
stan sand
Watch the flight of the milk weed fluff,
A very humble effort indeed.
Wingless,
It is disallowed the crossing of borders,
And denied the owndership of the skies.
Yet it flies, carrying the seed
Cradled like an infant.
‘ Under the shade of the tree
It imagines-
Someone will rest tomorrow.’
The milk weed fluff is unaware of these lines.
In the weightlessness
Of its ignorance
It flies.
In the compassion that we show
By not calling it a bird,
It might float a bit more distance.
A humble but valiant effort!
Where it falls,
Unknown to anyone,
A plant might stand
In memorium
Tomorrow.
(Poem written by. Veerankutty, Translated from Malayalam by Ministhy S.)
Sitting under the willow tree
on a hot and gray day
just passing the evening away
delicate sounds of thunder
rumble far far away
watching the winds run and play
the grass softly turns
as waves in a Jade run
while rolling hill’s laze
a little white house
in the middle of the planes
small distant beyond all
under a haloed sun
dark at noon day, cooling
gentle breeze as it carries a hint of fall
on its way sitting under a willow tree
besides a deep pond watching the ripples
cast a wish upon each stone away
watching every stone as they fall away
my life passing the days away
feeling an ancient House fluttering in the distant
on milky white sands emeralds waters lap
with the tears of forgotten life sitting
under a willow tree
on a dyeing hot brilliant day
a dark shadow on horizon race
tossing the stones of a heavy life away
into a dark emerald pawn
discarding the stains of my barren days
here comes the raines again
falling like a new emotion
drop absently drip
each ripple the moments of thought
the house white haunted the lands
where the wind turns
on times Shifting Sands
On a park beside the Murray
on a state park boundary,
amongst red gums and black box
and the silver wattle tree,
there’s a place to go exploring
with a thousand things to see,
on the weekly Thursday ritual
for Gary, Tom, and me.
We’d sit and watch Tom wander,
speak about a boundary tree
that’s significance in history
is for the local aborigine.
There are markers in the river
for the boat fraternity,
and a place with peace and quiet
for Gary, Tom, and me.
But the first call for our Tommy
was to cock his leg and pee,
on a red gum that’s still growing
to leave his message; ‘this is me!’
And before it’s time to leave
it’s back to have another wee.
That red gum on the Murray will,
always be, Tom’s memorial tree.
THE DOGWOOD TREE
Legend says of the Dogwood tree
That on it, Christ was crucified
His blood was shed for you and me
When the soldier pierced His side
The blood that ran from His feet and hands
And the crown upon His brow
Was all a part of God's great plan
Two thousand years ago – and now
The petals on the Dogwood tree
Form a tiny cross
The brown stains you can clearly see
Represent the blood He lost
As this Dogwood tree is planted
Our thoughts are filled with pity
For the victims and the families
Who were bombed in Oklahoma City
Let this tree be a tribute
To the Man the world crucified
And to those in Oklahoma City
For whom this same Man died
And when you view this Dogwood
Think of those who died
Not only in Oklahoma City
But also the one crucified
This was written for inclusion in a memorial service conducted at Carl Vinson VA Medical
Center in Dublin, Georgia for the victims in the Oklahoma City bombing incident. A
Dogwood tree was planted in their commemoration on May 19, 1995 at 9:02 a.m.
Curtis Moorman
May 16, 1995
As the sun sets on the lone elm tree.
Its' silhouette looks upon me.
I believe it’s speaking quietly,
Whispering with its gentle breeze.
Telling me, to approach and see,
How my extremities are similar to thee.
Caught in amazement, yet stuck in beauty.
In the presence of an 80 year old tree.
I ask myself, who am I to be,
Strong, respected, but most importantly?
When actually, who am I not to be?
This tree is strong, respected, and important i.e.
It gives us these aspects unconsciously.
And we too are capable of possessing the-
Strong qualities of the Survivor Tree,
From its’ symbol of strength in OKC.
Surviving the blast of our history.
____________________
The Survivor Tree survived,
The blast on April 19, 1995.
http://www.oklahomacitynationalmemorial.org