Willow Tree Poems | Examples
These Willow Tree poems are examples of Tree poems about Willow. These are the best examples of Tree Willow poems written by international poets.
you're a sign of hope
and bend without breaking
strength and resilience
birds gather for comfort
cradled within your branches
seeking swaying grace
"the willow tree"
The willow weeps for me, they say
They play that willow song
What if a willow laughs per se
And we just got it wrong
We misperceive its hanging sleeves
The rustle that we hear
Could be a joke told by the breeze
“Look at that fool, my dear”
The willow dies of laughter, though
We still believe it weeps
The other day I had a go
To listen to the leaves
But it was so serene around
That even birds didn’t sing
Two leaves were slowly spinning down
I couldn’t hear anything..
gentle breeze willow dances
Oh, peaceful sentinel of green,
With sweeping boughs and leafy screen!
Most trees provide a tranquil shade,
For picnickers in any glade
But you, O Willow, choose to smite,
And pummel passersby all night!
While common willows gently weep,
You cause the very bones to leap!
With one swift swish, you wreck a car,
And launch a Ford into a star.
You care not for a bird or bee,
An equal-opportunity brute tree.
You guard a dark and secret door,
Where furry friends pace on the floor.
A gentle poke upon your bark
Will freeze you silent in the dark,
A magic trick of wood and limb,
To keep your temper rather trim!
So hail the violent, twisted wood!
Misunderstood, yet understood.
The only tree, we must agree,
That strikes right back at botany!
Once, upon a wooden bench beside a quiet pond,
me and dad sat talking beneath a weeping willow tree;
his hand found mine- Oh, we had such a strong bond,
we watched ducks floating, drifting- graceful and free.
A soft wind waltzed in the darkness of night
With a silver moon shedding a dim light,
A wild willow wafting with gentle grace,
Reflecting the shine of stars on its face
With wooing wind whispering a sweet song
While frolicking on verdant leaves along,
Awaking crickets close from fields to creep,
Lulling my weary soul slowly to sleep,
Caressing the grass on the front yard lawn~
Somehow, this view left me with break of dawn.
It’s a snapshot of disaster
Love, our willow is no more
Seems my time is running faster
So much faster than before
What’s the reason? There’s no reason
Never listen what they say
A contrived job for the season
Comers do to get their pay
It’s united bloody nations
High concern about my peace
To distribute some frustrations
To cut down for me some trees
That old willow was a wonder
Silver-green leaves used to rustle
I was coming here to ponder
Just to rest awhile from hustle
But I have it on the photo
(And I think I took a few)
When it was a place to go to
Little place to share with you.
wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
X X x X x X x. branches droop with pain X x X x X x
X x. soaking up angels teardrops x X x X x X
x earth's beauty falls short X x X x X
X x X x
X. x. X. X. X
. X. X. X. X
. X. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Why the sad face
the sadness of your branches
do you long for affection
a touch of someone's love
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hoof-deep in twilight,
the willow braids its green hair~
slow feast of shadows.
Earth tastes of salt and thunder
when the sky leans down to watch.
See me here by the bank of the river.
I am a tall and leafy green willow.
In the heat of summer, I deliver
welcoming shade that spreads out below
the graceful drape of my canopy’s flow.
As softly as silent tears my limbs cascade,
quivering in summer’s slightest breeze.
Lithely I sway while offering my shade.
Souls weary and sweltering I put at ease.
Come rest beneath my beauty if you please.
I am a weeping willow tree.
My graceful branches swing and sway
as gentle breezes blow through me!
Neath the blue sky, each summer day,
I so enjoy my happy dance!
My branches flow just like a stream
cascading nearly to the ground.
As tiny leaves glow in the gleam
of sun rays, they are surely bound
to create soon a mystic trance!
I am called 'the ancient one' among my peers,
known for my sweeping limbs, as if they weep.
I was taken from the bank of the River Sugen
when my tender roots were still quite young.
From Nature's arms, I was carefully replanted,
nurtured and shaped by the one who cares for me.
He's gently pruned my limbs to keep me healthy
and taken me outside to absorb morning sunlight.
I am proud to be a specimen of Japanese culture,
a miniature version of my Asian flora ancestors.
My name suggests that I am sombre.
My tumbling tresses are my glory.
They swing and sway at the touch of a breeze
And drape beautifully by the stream.
My attire casts a cooling shadow in the heat of the day.
My presence offers vibes of serenity.
I am at home in calm and quiet places.
I am true and evergreen with no hidden layers to find me.
My foliage can conceal those seeking solitude.
I am a Weeping Willow Tree.
I am a Tree, living historian of weather
record. Grandfather of colonial bridges
and homes. A giggle, you can hear us
when in the breeze apt to tease, fondly
tickle one another. Poetic: To Tree or not
to Tree? So content to be what we are --
man's utilitarian, your selfless furnisher
of shade and warmth. No matter Strong
Oak or mangy willow. What I answer to
is Proud Fellow, member of the Ever-wood.