Treeless Poems | Examples

Howling Wilderness

Howling Wilderness

windswept
bleak treeless plain
white blanketed mountains
permafrost hardened ground, I am
alone

Frozen Side of The Sun

On the frozen side of the sun lies Svalbard.
A barren, treeless stretch of land
Buried beneath snow and stillness.
Here, the cold doesn’t just bite;
It consumes.

The whirlwind air scrapes skin with surgical precision.
For months each year, the sun abandons the sky.
Svalbard drifts beneath a vaulted night.
Darkness bleeds through permafrost,
Settling in the earth’s frozen marrow.

But beneath this ice-scarred wilderness,
Where avalanche and ash calcify,
A vault lies hidden deep in the mountain’s underbelly.
It cradles the future;
A womb of waiting seeds,
Asleep in rows of glass and steel.
Hope, suspended in time.
In this tomb of preservation,
Life isn’t gone.
Just waiting with a promise of rebirth.

And when the sun returns,
Brushing marigold hues across glistening glaciers
Like a kiss upon Snow-White's lips,
Those seeds will stir with life.
They will remember the sun.
They will rise.

Pretty Sandgrouse

Sandgrouse pretty bird
Love a treeless countryside 
A beautiful sound

An Odd Thief

There’s an odd thief in our neighborhood
Who steals stuff that he must think is good
Beginning with my small bushes and trees
Which at the start, made no sense to me

Then parts of my fence suddenly disappeared
And a pile of firewood was totally cleared
Yet when most of my porch pickets were gone
It was time to dispense some fighting brawn

By taking some sort of drastic action
For our family needed some satisfaction
Yet the next day he stole lawn sport’s equipment
And a stack of pallets fresh from a shipment

The following day when I got home from work
My front door was ajar; from that crooked jerk
Who oddly took walking sticks and umbrellas
Which confirmed this thief was a strange fella

Since I was so ticked, I left to ponder the scam
Then I saw on a side road a new beaver dam
Amidst the prairie sits this cobbled-up dome
Built with those good things smuggled from our home

Our prairie was treeless, devoid of beaver
Until this thieving one, which was a great weaver
And to top it off, I was totally floored
Coz its lodge was crowned with our head board!

Born To Walk On Waves

I was not born to the moors; my roots are planted
by wild running seas,
even so, a rolling heath is a green tide heaped
into wind-sculptured waves,
low breakers that may tug you deeper,
or crash upon any too certain a mind.

March is a good time
to be a thin branch in a treeless landscape.
You can catch hold of a wind-serpent
in your upheld hands,
a sea-creature born to be the innards of the sky.
When a high rain surfs mountainous air,
you can be pitched pell-mell onto thrashing shores
shorn of any footholds.

I was not begot to be native to these moors
yet they deliver me into that wild ocean
counterpoised between land and sky,
and there, you may also wave-walk
or be born again.

LEAVES

LEAVES

May each leaf  that falls in faith
of something greater still
stand for the dead and suffering cries,
that echo eastern streets.

How vicious is genetic hate, whose memory retrieves
and causes youth to emulate atrocities once shared.

May each leaf that loses life to winds that separate its soul
stand for the wounded, homeless,
slain 
that will know Spring's rebirth. 

How merciless the memory
of grandma's tattooed limb,
that strips some of a caring heart
to justify the slaughter.

May each leaf the touches ground,
as dried and brown discard,
stand for a lifeless body wrapped
within a displaced home.

Autumn leaves, autumn leaves,
in lovely colors     dying.
You suffer not from war torn winds
in treeless places    bare.

How deep down will bruising be,
in leaves of autumn memories.

Prairie Winds

March is a good time
to be a thin branch
in a treeless landscape.
You can catch hold of a wind-serpent
in your upheld hands,
a sea-creature born to be
the innards of the sky.
When high rains surf
a flat-faced landscape
mountains of air,
can pitch you pell-mell
onto darkly crashing shores,
margins you once mistook
for yourself.

brittle branch

i'm 
  connected to 
a brittle 
      branch
   disconnected 
from a 
    tree of
     life

i 
i am 
i am writing
i am running
 out of time

i write in a place
   out of time
i write in a time
   out of place

it's go time 
     it's gone
time has gone
    time is wasted

i'm going
 nowhere
    where
 anything goes
into a wasted
 land
out of time

for
 i am
writing
  out of time
for
  time is wasting
  words
for 
   words 
 create timeless
  despair

  despair
breaks
a brittle
   branch
inside my
treeless life
inside a timeless
        tomb

i
i am 
  i am building 
i build a
  bridge to
        no land

i
i write
  i am writing
  these poems
these poems
 write me
these poems
 erase me

time
  erases
    me

Sandgrouse

Sandgrouse pretty bird
Love a treeless countryside 
A beautiful sound

Treeless

Would the world be a better place if Parents were drowned at childbirth

Ground of Zero

The night rain had shorn
my neighboring trees
   standing so stalwart 
in their convivial circle four.

The wistful dawning
be shining   on skeletal shapes
Hung with but   scarce few 
   yellowed-brown-sienna leaves 
to drape their skinny heights.    

For the force   of Wind and Fall 
   had stripped 
their grace of arms
   quite bare.

Yet 
within those skeletal   swaying branches, 
   untouched 
   by rain or snow or wind,
Flows their elixir pure
   but awaiting   the hand of Spring 
   to fashion    dress
   with fresh new-green attire
my neighboring family four.

Would such certainty
   had I  
Seeing fallen
   upon my treeless    
   ground of zero
pieces that once  were me.

Only a ‘perhaps’ have I
   that I and me 
   again might   see
the comfort   of a greening Spring,

Might feel   anew
   warmth eternal, 
that   in a winter moment 
   does seem
so spectral faint
to be.

Call Me Zebra

The hot savannah in late September 
Too far back to quite remember
Born in plains surrounded by the sands
An oasis of the treeless woodlands
To be uniquely chic I always tried
Yet it never showed on my solid hide 

One day hiding from cheetahs in tall grass
With my stubborn cousin, (he’s an ass)
I noticed our complete lack of camouflage
And sparked an idea fleeing their barrage
We zig-zagged an escape from jaws and paws
And set to work on my mono-color flaws
Happily braying proud a-ha’s from my pipes
I trotted around showing off new painted stripes
Blending in reeds better than a horse
Looking suave and stylish too, of course

Jealous mammals barely keep control
When I strut my stuff at the watering hole
Drooling and licking lips in envy
Carnivores can’t keep their eyes off me 

So to boring old coats, hasta la vista
Now I’m a savvy equine fashionista
Savannah’s newly striped and charming Libra
Hey lion’s and hyena’s, you can call me Zebra 
*Wink* 
*Sassy mane toss*
…..*RUUUN!

Enigma 2

Lipstick red
a wet rose opens

A treeless leaf
turns in the heavy air
as if

seeking where

Woe and Wonder

Questions exist
with no answers
In my quest for origins and ends
I see others like me, sociable
open to beauty, struggling
to know divinity- Yet in
all my quiet contemplation
I cannot screen out war
or incomprehensible cruelty
 
The ranks in uniform, the tanks
the weapons of destruction
The history which never
wipes out thought of
new aggressions
Boundary fences, treeless camps
ugly emotions, shouting, fists
the build-up to destruction
 
The sudden hurt, the
grinding discomfort
The tears, the flowers,
the prayers with hope
and reverence
Our pity for the suffering
 
We blame God
not seeing his mercy
yet only he above all
sees everything

2050 To 0

Step out on a treeless plain, 
Earth scoured with monsoon ruts.
It's not that we never learn, 
Just   not   fast    enough!

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