Willow Poems

The Magic Of A Willow

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

pliable willow

willows gnarled limbs
curving in out and above
furniture ready

Laughing Willow

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

Blue Willow Tree

She stood beneath the spreading tree
and looked out far, across the sea
with wide eyes wonder , to the sky, 
and softly wished to ask him why

her love that had to go so far, 
across the waters, to a War
but just returned , was dancing rain, 
that seemed to cry and say his name

and look, a

willow hiku

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Old Weeping Willow

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

Weeping willow, why do your catkins caress the fields of sunflowers

Weeping willow, why do your catkins caress the fields of sunflowers
when they themselves are hallucinogenic dreams dancing in the secret wind?
Why do your cold and rigid branches yearn for warmth when a smoldering fire burns within you,
between your wooden ribs, embracing you with its hidden and fiery flames?
Weeping willow, why do you let your branches

The willow tree

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

Willow

I dreamed that snow fell on the hill,
while far below the sea was still;
it covered paths that we once knew
when I was so in love with you.

I saw the bridge where we would stand,
lips pressed together, hand in hand,
where we sought shelter from the rain
when my heart smiled and felt no pain.

But as I wakened

Okay

Every rotation on your turn-table eye,
Or every buzz that the radio hums:
"Ah, I see, music sings through you.
So no, I know,
I won't be okay."

The green of the frail willow tree I spy,
Or every flash of a sunbeam on the stroll:
"Ah, I see, colours shine through you.
So no, I know,
I won't be okay."

Every frequent meal in

The dead willow tree

On a hill far, far, away there lives a dead willow tree.
And if you visit there’ll be a girl, with long inky hair as deep as the darkest sky.
She wears long rags that are elegant and dances in the sowllow wind.
She comes every day with a beautiful dismay of light, then leaves when the sky

Under the Willow I Lay

Under the weeping willow,
I sit in seeping soil
on my knees
as I carve into trees,
to engrave our love naturally—
Do you do the same for me?

Under the loved leaves,
I lay in degloved detachment
upon your feet 
as you attempt to leave,
to sacrifice myself indefinitely—
Do you do the same for me?


—inspired by Love Communion in FUNK

Willow tree

I used to imagine stepping off the shingles of my childhood home
Thought it might be poetic
To end it
Where it started

While perched there
Peaking over 
Waiting for the wind to catch me right 
I caught a glimpse of my old willow tree
My dad had planted it for me 
I watched it grow 
So slow
Still small now 
Has

The Bride

A serene sunset paints the alluvium at the shore line in tones reminiscent of a blushing bride. The glassy surface of the lake reflects the gently swaying of a lone tree. Whispers of wind weave through the willows, sharing secrets of yesteryear. Each gentle gust carries a chorus of memories, softly sung by the wind's

Willow Speaks

Will you join me in the willow brands?
Far from the heat of the day
Where silence reigns

The posse seeks to find you
In the wilds of life
To bring you the justice you seek

Yet, will you deny your self?
To the simplicity of surrender daily?

Without solace in the desert
You perish

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