On a tree house near the road
Here I sit to write my piece
Tries to lay down my heavy load
How I cherish the times like this
November 10, 2023
APC
I live in a forest treehouse the tiny man said.
Speckled duck called him a liar, his face turned all red.
I think he is telling the truth said an eater of bread.
freshly baked dough coming out of his mouth was hot as lead.
I want to see your place yelled old Grandpa Fred.
I do too agreed his twin brother, old Ned.
Follow me down this hidden path the tiny man said.
Speckled duck rapidly apologized; his name is young Ted.
You have to think before you speak reminded his dad Ed.
the tiny man accepted duck’s apology; because he is well-bred.
We all complimented the tiny man on his pretty homestead.
Everyone agreed it was a glorious spot including Grandpa Fred.
Owl tree house in the morning
Owl tree house at night.
Owl tree house, wrens are horning.
A marvelous interesting sight.
Where did it come from? A meadow lark said.
He wondered if he was somehow seeing it in his head.
Owls are nocturnal, so it makes no sense during the day.
Yet here was the proof, an owl tree house in May
It is tea time in the treehouse
There is a hedgehog entertaining a rat
They hear some loud jackhammering
Rat-a-tat-a-tat-tat-tat!
Is that a redheaded woodpecker? Asks the hedgehog, mad.
Don’t know says the rat, but this drumming makes me feel sad.
The woodpecker’s beak came in through the outside wall.
What is going on in there? His voice was loud and tall.
It is teatime said the hedgehog. You are welcome to come in.
I need a little help first, said the woodpecker. Can you push my chin?
''As I sit in tree house view. I see sky high wheeze --waving so subtly, in tree shine breeze.''
riddled with irregularities ~ a woodpecker’s house fails the test
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
When plans don't go to plan
A contest hosted by Silent One
Placed 2nd
© 27th August 2020
DAD'S TREE HOUSE
When I dream of Santa,
of course, you are he
stacking my presents
under the tree.
Even though I plotted
how I could catch you,
sleep came so sudden
that I never met you.
But as I grew older
those things I forgot.
You wanted my life now,
every dream, every thought.
I laughed, I smiled at you,
but I was not free
for the world was your tree house
where you could hide me.
Janet Marie Bingham
We hid in the cottonwood tree’s magic treehouse.
Spying on our neighbors.
Laughter rang out occasionally from the windows of some of their houses.
We clutched our stomachs and laughed.
Mr. Pete gave his wife a big hug at their house.
We all went, Oh, yucky!
We were eleven, and loved the height of our tree mansion.
Feeling like detectives, or FBI agents.
Eleven is such a magical time.
We used to haul all kinds of pillows up there.
It was my reading nook. On reading days, I was
off with pirates, or Pippi Longstocking, and we
were on the sea, which I had never seen
in real life,
but imagined
was quite
wonderful.
You can never get 11
back, so please enjoy it!
The rubble was still rising
after the direct hit. The
private dens were in ruins.
Salicin ? Do you know the-
willow-bark ? My father said,
the spirit of the tree healed
and removed the suffering
and pain of man.
Celebrating the cease of
fire, death moves in a circle,
seeking the truce between the-
cage free neighbours.
Don’t pull out the tubers, the
roots. The ancient souls-
live in them. The psyche, you
will have to read off mute greens.
Ask the questions. From the wounded
earth, will be an electric response.
Satish Verma
Luke was building a tree house
He was building it all by himself
A rusty old hammer, several bent nails
And wood that used to be someone’s shelf
We could all hear Luke working so hard
Hammering and sawing away
He was such a busy little bee
He didn’t even have time to play
He’d get the job half completed
Then it would all just fall apart
But he’d just pick up the pieces and start again
The kid certainly does have heart
Finally the tree house was finished
Luke was as proud and as happy as could be
He’d done a good job, but there was something missing
And unfortunately that was the tree.
But Luke shouldn't get too upset
Shouldn't let it get to his head
He may not have made a tree house
But he had made a lovely shed.
Timeless
Being inside of a forest
Trees, they’re all around
My house is within
The confines that bewilder
The hide-away
Timeless
The trees worship
The house that they surround
Open to life’s air
My house sits high
Above the caressing fields
Timeless
The trees evolve
Like the highest object
Within the forest
The trees hide
My humble building
One that finds the trees
Timeless
Russell Sivey
My quiet place is high above the maddening haste and
I can go there at my leisure, to this five story back yard walk-up, and
On the platform of this wooden stair castle in-the-air-deck, I
Can look over the city, awed at the wonders I see and write about.
The telephone is turned off to my delight and the only sounds
Are my sighs from time to time, and the whistle of the tea kettle.
No plants to water, no pets to feed, just me, pencils, pads and
My special someone, who says his sole purpose in life Is to make me happy.
I stay here as long as I desire, in this quiet place writing, and best of all,
He only plays the music I want to hear…Frank Sinatra, singing anything.
It's not a tree house that hides me
From the world; I ignore
Yellow jackets so they won't sting
Watch butterflies adored.
It's Not a tree house, inflated
Balloon, my quiet place;
I love, laugh, write here, time is naught,
sun caresses my face!
A sanctuary beholden to the eyes of the seer,
Open hearted lays a crystal entrance to the golden,
And perhaps an even more extravagant opening,
Lies the broken, wooden entrance for the good.
The moribund dream of it in its starkest slumber,
Yet is within reach for all who yearn.
It lies not on metal, nor stone,
Nor freshly laid yew, stained by paint and human toil.
But by love and grace, forever orbiting,
A pastiche of beauty, greater than the yonder,
For the exultant and the brave,
In the tree of wisdom they shall reign forever.
Tree house is a house of forefathers
Roses beautify bed together
Enlisting its use which no one bother
Empty envy, loving hearts rather
Humidify the clay moulded by porter
Oath we should take either
Useful for future said by author
sensible use which do not destruct weather
Eternal joy of protecting it is wonder.
by:-
vrushani thaker
As I depart from the
trail and into the
bushes I go.
Robin's tree house right
above my head, so many
fine birds, four or five I see.
Such a charming bird,
sounds coming from
them so gentle.
Robin's tree house by
the pond, but
hidden so well.
Goodbye my robin
chums, until
another grand day.
wrote 9-19-07 at Lowell ponds
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