Read Poems by Paula Puddephatt

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Lime Trees

Summers consist of

peridot mornings,

and emerald afternoons.

The trees filter the sunlight - 

so often saving me from

those headaches, which might have

mutated, evolved into migraines.


By autumn, the leaves have changed colour:

a poet's palette of

amber, copper,

gold, and red.


In winter, the trees are slender,

with a stark, grey-brown beauty:

looking fragile,

yet able to endure

the harsh frosts of the season.


And, throughout the seasons,

"they" plot.

They want

a concrete Universe - 

so they mark out their potential

victims, with orange spots.


The letters to local residents are headed:

"Implementation of

Environmental Improvements".


Yet, trees can bleed.

Scenes of carnage seal the deal.

They win; we lose.

So much wildlife, instantly evicted.


Fluorescent yellow workmen circle tree stumps,

inspecting their day's work - 

before going for "a pint",

and home for tea.


Spring is cancelled.

Copyright © Paula Puddephatt | Year Posted 2011


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  1. Date: 1/30/2016 7:28:00 PM

    awesome poem..........skat
  1. Date: 8/18/2011 9:22:00 PM

    Wonderful write lovely Lady Paula....with love...old Jack
  1. Date: 8/17/2011 10:32:00 AM

    Excellent. My feelings exxactly. Nature lover that I am I am constantly upset by Mankind trying to "improve" on what God has already made perfect. So we are about to "improve" ourselves into extinction. A planet that has no Nature, no wild life cannot sustain life of any kind. Great job my friend. Bravo. God Bless, JB