Roots Tree Poems | Examples
These Roots Tree poems are examples of Tree poems about Roots. These are the best examples of Tree Roots poems written by international poets.
ROOTS AND BRANCHES
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tree roots hold steadfast
though branches bend in the wind
faith and loyalty
He's a visual fusion of forest and inner flame,
A radiant pulse of abundance,
Clad in crafted clothing of galore,
Stitched in autumn tones from folklore.
He wears leaves of distinction, orange embers,
Yellow citrine, and emerald green.
He nurtures the woodlands in newborn sunrays
That fall through the morning haze,
Striking the heart where his roots belong,
Enhancing the mind with crystal clear gleam.
Twinkling truths highlight his daydreams.
The Green Man dances readily,
Saged in spirals for centuries,
Giving journeymen paths to fae lights,
Readily twisting around flowers, foliage, and sprites,
Stretched in sacred homage.
Breath in breeze
Body entwined with trees
By myth decreed
By birthright and galore
Wanderer between roots and stars forevermore.
When facing a wall of fear and pain, I stand.
Laughing, as hope and calm slip from my hand.
I climb tree branches, easily, swiftly and timely.
Each thread a steady beam that holds me upright.
Up in the canopy, I cheer up, and start to sing,
A hymn of praise that only being there can bring.
I rise higher, holding trunk and bough with delight.
Each fork a foothold lifting up into the light.
I rejoice in the chaos of tangled twigs and leaves,
That encases me with living walls, roofs and eaves.
Their whispered voices rustle solace in the breeze.
Bringing peace and joy, untangling my spent unease.
A careless slip — I lose my grip and start to slide.
But the tree clutches me, with a sudden, saving guide.
It breaks my fall and sets me softly onto the ground,
Its roots bear and steady me — till deep peace is found.
f
l
a
m
e
s
of angry suns
licking u p h e a v e d roots of trees~
begging for mercy
They said she loved only one man —
that’s how the old song goes.
But the truth?
It was a tree —
no metaphor, no myth.
A real one:
knotted, gnarled,
older than shame itself.
She found it when her heart
was still raw from trying,
and men were hollow bells,
rung too many times.
So she tended it,
whispered to it,
sang into its bark
with a voice no longer needed elsewhere.
Her youth curled at its roots.
Her strength climbed its spine.
And every year, it grew
as she grew smaller.
She told her daughter,
“This is love. Quiet. Loyal. Rooted.”
But her daughter heard
the ache between the words.
She looked at the rope,
the sky,
the body curved like devotion —
and asked herself:
Was it really love,
or martyrdom in a dress?
They found her hanging —
peaceful,
like she was returning
to something
she’d never really left.
And the tree?
It didn’t break.
It didn’t bend.
It held her —
not like a tombstone,
like a witness,
like a mirror.
And then,
they were one —
not woman,
not wood,
but myth.
Whisper.
Wild thing.
The beauty of your life is so easy to see,
In the colors and lines of your symmetry.
After a time with the tree of your life,
Severed from your stem by the wind as a knife.
To ride the wind and swirl to the ground,
To please another as your beauty is found.
I can see in your color a purpose you serve,
Formed to perfection, each little curve.
Planted in rich soil, the tree grew quite tall,
A steam flowing near, gave water to all.
The roots, limbs and branches their part so bold,
To bring out the best in the warmth and cold.
But it is truly my solemn belief,
A tree is most beautiful because of the leaf.
If only you could see
the forest for the trees
it would feel so good
for then as an evergreen
you'd be out of the woods
and if you cared for me
going out on a limb
tho' not on bended knee
I'd ask you to become
a branch of my family
so near and yet so far
you touched me to
the roots of my heart
and as one fir to another
I bough to you
with all it may impart
for yes I too am a conifer
and what's a tree to do
but stand here in the shade
patiently before I wilt away
while I pine for you
My love grows like a tree for you.
Growing endlessly, it spreads across the garden of love.
It gives us cover from storms, and shade from the sun.
It is strong for us to hold onto in bad times.
It has roots that spread out and intertwine within the garden, making the tree strong to hold on.
Making our love stronger and stronger with each storm.
The tree of love is so beautiful, with flowers and green, it glows, like our love, so brilliantly.
My love for you continues on and I planted this tree for you to hold onto in the storms.
For all the storms that may come, remember we can always find a way to calm ourselves with the beauty of our garden of love.
Our walk in the garden of love has been so much fun.
May God be with us in our garden, we pray today and always, lovingly, your children of the garden.
Old weeping willow why do you cry
Your beauty is green leaves not blue
Your roots a pillow from which to thrive
As Mother Nature’s sun smiles on you
Many a kid has used your brown branches
To climb you or swing in your shadowy shade
Many a poet you inspire romantic antics
Carving heart in your bark or writing on page
Your children near and far mirror you
And some have been lumbered sadly
Furniture and houses made as proof
You must miss them being near badly
Do you weep due to lost dreams
Or is it the loss of your forest green
Is it because man pollutes the stream
Or you find no peace as we keep warring
I’d like to apologize for our ignorant ways
For changing your forest for selfish reasons
I hear your song in the wind each day
I cherish you at each every emerald season
So you stand on brown holy ground
It’s holy because you peach persevere
May you live forever in our town
As a preserved prize that thrives here
Honeysuckles commandeered my yard
Ten in a row, watching this old bard
They grow renegade, their roots are super deep.
Providing shade for my red ninety-eight Jeep.
It stood like a sentinel
at the world’s bleak last shore,
its gnarled branches clawing at
a churning grey November sky,
above a thin and narrowing
yellow band of waning light
auguring the coming night.
Rattling seed pods faintly clicked—
(playing hollow, spectral tunes)
like a wind-chime built for wraiths.
Brittle voices rose and fell
in the cold breath of the sea,
not quite a song, nor quite unknown—
a whispered hush of lives unsown.
It seemed no tree at all that day,
but something older, something whole—
a guardian at the end of time,
the ancient, waiting Tree of Souls.
Its roots ran deep through rock and soil,
its shadow stretched beyond the known,
a threshold carved in bark and bone.
And still they wait beyond our sight,
in silent chambers yet unborn,
their moments measured out in stars,
their names like whispers on the storm.
The tree will stand as ages fall,
its branches cradling birth and death,
a constant hush of waiting breath.
There will never be
A story told
That does not measure
Hope so old
As in this tree
With shading bow
As here I sit
In writing now
For in this ancient
Solid form
That buries deep
Under the norm
Of human treadmill
Feet that scurry
A wisdom lies
Below the flurry
Such gnarly skin
Yet seasoned clothes
A message tall
This tree bestows
For those with eyes
For those with ears
A whisper to dispel
Your fears
Carbon capture
Monolith
Prompts perfect style
For kin and kith
We learn our futures
Can be bright
If trust, we do
With such insight
Roots in earth
Yet highest height
Entwined in life
As nature’s rite
So let us grow
Persistently
Protecting, loving
A human tree
If only you could see
the forest for the trees
it would feel so good
for then as an evergreen
you'd be out of the woods
and if you cared for me
going out on a limb
tho' not on bended knee
I'd ask you to become
a branch of my family
so near and yet so far
you touched me to
the roots of my heart
and as one fir to another
I bough to you
with all it may impart
for yes I too am a conifer
and what's a tree to do
but stand here in the shade
patiently before I wilt away
while I pine for you
Kill off the Mile Long Tree
For anyone who cares only cares about everyone
Revelation in mind, we don't feel the same
You should sort through your thick skull, my friend.
Each twig, a secret forever held
Each leaf, a statement never expelled.
My dear dreamcatcher, though my dearest is radical,
You're being ripped out by your roots, big buddy.
You're calling for unhelpful help.
So "Relational Warming" makes headline news
It consecrates our separate views.
They must've gathered some leaves,
And ever too many twigs.
You'll just grow another tree or two
To make up for the 'loss'
You'll just grow some extra foliage,
Replace the grass with moss
You'll just keep on making excuses
And dwell on your own exhaust.
But you're playing vampire in this romance, my darling.
To blame, you have only yourself.
You're dancing a dangerous dance, my dear
You're calling for unhelpful help.
This sentinel, with roots that grip the soil,
A continuum witness of seasons' endless toil.
Through storms and sun, a beacon in the breeze,
once a life of strength, among the ancient trees.
But time, marches, and its sharp axe will fall,
gently splitting, as life begins to stall.
The leaves, once vibrant, start to turn to gold,
a final chapter of this story must be told.
Ash branches weaken, and the bark begins to fray,
slowly descending, on life's departing way.
The roots, though anchored, loosen their embrace,
as nature's cycle finds its destined space