Old Willow Tree, let your branches fall,
Shelter me in your soft willow, I’m seeking a place to hide, not wanting to leave..
For as the soft wind blow your long weeping branches, I can hear the soft rain falling, it’s tear drops falling on me, yet I’m safe under your sturdy tree.
Why or how you got your name weeping Willow, is it because your branches fall as if one is weeping in sadness of grief or joy?
Weeping Willow, here you stand so tall, sturdy in the park, with fall leaves amidst the ground, through fall, winter, spring, summer, many people of all ages, kids, come to gather, seeking a solace from life’s many strifes, yet we know the phrase, “This season too shall pass..
Strong, weeping Willow, we shall meet again someday, to sit amidst your flowing branches, with GODS creations, birds, squirrels, robins, to soak in your beauty..
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 willow tree, sturdy and proud
I bow to the sun and I welcome the crowd
An enchanting mystic, to wallow in shade
My resilience astounding, unwilling to fade
I cry in the West, mournfully blue
Bringing life in the East with a positive hue
Adapting through time, I offer a portal
To a life just like mine, eternal immortal
When asked what I am, I declare very loud
That I am a willow tree, sturdy and proud
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.
My head is full of green hair,
Locks dipped low to water blue
You will always find me close to ground
Near to my love so true.
Our hands hold each other so very tight,
I drink of his love with all my might.
My legs stand on the river so strong,
hidden by my locks so so long.
Watch and listen, everyone knows
the sweet sweet sound of my Weeping Willow song.
Chantelle Smith 26092025
184021
a thousand roots, and oh to one
i have seen your bark split open
and i know the ache you call rot
but what i see is not decay—
it is softness where light
has finally found a way in
the moss creeps gently
not as a thief, but as a witness
draping your arms in green silence
tending to the cracks
like a prayer, slow and deliberate
they will say a tree is only worth
its shadow, its shelter, its fruit
but i know the truth—
you are worth the space you hold,
even when no one remembers the seed
not every wound is ruin,
not every hollow means hunger
sometimes what looks like ending
is simply a resting place
for the breath that carries us forward
so bend, willow,
bend until your branches touch the earth
and let them whisper this:
there is no rot in you—
only moss, only time, only life
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
green reeds softly sway
sunlight paints the willow trees
cares drift, fall away
I have one special memory
Lying with you on the lake shore
Watching the sun twinkle
As it flickered between the tree’s leaves
A gentle breeze makes the weeping willow magical
Dancing movements choreographed long ago
Never copied by anything else
To me, they are signs of unending love
Given to me and my future wife
To cherish as long as we both shall live
© Poem XXVIII/VIII/MMXXV
LRET
willows gnarled limbs
curving in out and above
furniture ready
They say the willow weeps for me
They play the willow song
What if the willow laughs and we
Perceive its rustle wrong
The willow dies of laughter though
We still believe it weeps
I’ve seen two seagulls flying low
Beneath the willow’s sleeves
One of the seagulls turned its head
Another seagull grinned
The leaves were falling on my bed
Spinning in the wind.
Ill|||||
||[[||]] /
willow bends
as jays flit on tree's branch...
clinging to old age. *
[[[]]]]]] *)
[[[]] \|\}}
////
[Lll \\
^^^^^
--~```° ~~ //
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
As you walk down the dirt path, past the tall green trees,
I hope you remember who you are when you reach the willow tree.
You will inevitably get lost, confused in the woods,
struggling to find your way to the willow.
When the light dims, the whoos and coos of owls
and other nameless creatures will hymn in your ear,
distracting you from the overcompensation of your own voice
a light whisper of overthinking,
a gentle pluck of uncertainty.
The journey is long and weary,
more mournful for the woods you walk
than eager for the destination ahead.
With fleet, you fall,
but with glory, you rise
again and again
proving you know what you want.
Unsure of what lies at your destination,
you remain purely hopeful,
your mind already hanging by the tips
of the lanceolate leaves.
The sun fades to moonlight,
and you stand in the quiet presence
of a single thought
a dream that lingered
through the walking and the withering.
Thankful for sight,
eager never to turn your back to the wilderness,
for you have reached
nature.
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