Beauty Sleeping Breathes
The silhouette of the horizon is wavering, as a mile a minuet we pass
Chalk figures etched into the hillside by ancient hands echoing the grandeur lost of our kingdom green.
Searching for love in the shade of the hangman’s tree,
I'm seeking freedom in the shadow of misery.
Beneath a blanket death the springtime maiden - beauty sleeping breathes
Beneath a blanket of fallen leaves, there she receives comfort warmth from her mothers bosom
Suckling upon the roots of the world tree no serpent is she that sets us free.
The Willow man is singing, heralding the Oak kings return.
The Summer Sun is rising and to no surprise smiles return once more upon the faces
Of those who can find no joy within the hibernation that Winter decrees.
The shadows of the night reflect themselves in contorted passion,
Strange gnarled expressions whisper in my ear the secrets of now and then
The fear of darkness is the fear of death enveloping, suffocating the skin.
poem by David Lacey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Here In The Mounds Of Death
Feed the fantasy lost within a suffocating reality.
Listen, the flutes of the forest night are calling, can you hear?
Listen as you shed a tear for the last leaf of autumn falling,
Winter’s dawn is rising fast upon the horizons of our vision
And we are as the children of Eve lost to blanket insanity.
As each day disappears into the last we are waiting,
Awaiting the guardian at the gate to promise flowered
Wisdom in a lover’s kiss, yet there is something missing here
Within a world imbued with burning sigils of fear.
Into the eye of the dragon that holds the sky within his teeth
We stride, riding on unto the midnight sun
Never fearing the kingdom of shades
Nor running to hide from the waves of karmas tides.
Within celestial mansions built of ethereal elements
They reside; the Ancient Gods of our awakening.
The solar dragon is watching, keeping close and warming eye
Upon the valley green below
The Earth Mother writhes in ecstasy
Penetrated by the eye of the sun.
Here in the mounds of death, under fallen leaves
The Springtime maiden breathes
Knowing in dreams that her time is to come
And that it is she that will be celebrated
Within the return of the sun unto our realm.
poem by David Lacey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Still Miss You
When you find me sitting under my own shadow
under our tree
and it's raining but my face
was wet anyway,
all I can think of is you.
When I'm alone in my room because I'm afraid
someone will find me
and the sun won't come in,
all I can think of is you.
When I carry Death on my shoulder
and the whole world is ashes
and I only dream of Bliss,
all I can think of is you.
When the stars have all fallen
and the moon is as alone as I am
and the warmth of music is not a comfort,
all I can think of is you.
And the green of the grass,
the warmth of my blanket,
the Hope in the moon's eyes,
the playfulness of the breeze,
the shine of glitter,
the wisdom of words,
the innocent gentleness of a child's touch
reminds me of you
and yet they are not a comfort.
poem by Zoe Guillory
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Willow Tree
I am a Willow Tree, that sways gently in the wind
I am a Willow Tree, who has no limits.
I am a Willow Tree, who has long and beautiful branches
I am a Willow Tree, who provides shade and comfort.
I am a Willow Tree, who can be placed anywhere
I am a Willow Tree, I whisper in the wind.
I am a Willow Tree, you think I'm very free
I am a Willow Tree, don't ever want to be me.
poem by Lucy Gocher
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Early Works - Willow, Willow
Willow, willow
soft swinging low head
sadness brings night tears
to your breast.
Singing of a night wing
circles in the sky
down in the darkness
a life begins to die.
Willow, willow
no answer to give
sunlight brings bright
eyes exploring where you live.
Songs of happy voices
whisper to the breeze
but no one see the tragedy
that lies beneath the leaves.
Willow, willow
watching the world go by
evening breathes a stillness
near the close of the day.
Cries of distant shadows
and shriek of diving claws
hissing into silence
that will soon engulf them all.
17 October 1979
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Industrial Fortress
Where are they now?
Those voices that once held dominion over my mind.
What poor soul are they accusing of forgiveness in seeking beyond blindness
All that lay in wait for us within a kingdom of ever changing ages?
They story turns, my pupils burn and the world unfolds, never younger,
Never older but always the story is told. Wrapped in paper skin I'm dissolving
Into a solution of madness, revolving around a hope in revolution.
An Industrial fortress stands as solemn testament to the devilry of man,
Silhouetted against the sickly yellow clouds that smother the horizon
A labyrinth of pipes and towers forever cooling unwinds before the eye
They have proclaimed the death of the river man; they have proclaimed the death of the sky
And told are we as children lost that no Jack is there to paint the frost upon the window pane.
The forest night is dead it seems and peopled only by our dreams
Those ghosts of ever fading pasts, those memories which forever last.
The flames of the solar phoenix are flaring
The days are dissolving beyond recollection and no hope of resurrection is there for we
Sinful soulful warriors of midnight’s canopy. Vulnerable yet free, bruised yet smiling and all the while suckling upon the roots of the world tree, weeping in freedom's name.
Free me
Free me of misery
Free me of ecstasy
Free me of carnage
Free me of love
poem by David Lacey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Song from Aella
O SING unto my roundelay,
O drop the briny tear with me;
Dance no more at holyday,
Like a running river be:
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
Black his cryne as the winter night,
White his rode as the summer snow,
Red his face as the morning light,
Cole he lies in the grave below:
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
Sweet his tongue as the throstle's note,
Quick in dance as thought can be,
Deft his tabor, cudgel stout;
O he lies by the willow-tree!
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
Hark! the raven flaps his wing
In the brier'd dell below;
Hark! the death-owl loud doth sing
To the nightmares, as they go:
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
See! the white moon shines on high;
Whiter is my true-love's shroud:
Whiter than the morning sky,
Whiter than the evening cloud:
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
Here upon my true-love's grave
Shall the barren flowers be laid;
Not one holy saint to save
All the coldness of a maid:
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
With my hands I'll dent the briers
Round his holy corse to gre:
Ouph and fairy, light your fires,
Here my body still shall be:
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
Come, with acorn-cup and thorn,
Drain my heartès blood away;
Life and all its good I scorn,
Dance by night, or feast by day:
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
poem by Thomas Chatterton
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
Willow
I want to be the peaceful willow.
Still.
I can't see it today.
There is no peace today.
Where is my soul in the tree?
It has been taken from me.
What took my purity?
What caused this pain?
I can't see my way free today,
Can't find the tunnel to the end.
I am beyond your help now,
Beyond your love.
Where is my willow tree?
Peaceful, Still.
Where is my place under its leaves?
Where is my friend, where is he?
I am beyond your reach now,
Beyond your love.
How could you find me so far beneath the ground?
I've been buried alive.
Come peaceful willow,
Show me your roots.
I will follow them to the sky.
poem by Bridie Latona
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Self Portrait
The willow tree stands alone.
It grows alone, relying only on the Sun and the Rain.
This willow tree offers shade.
It only shades during the day, casting a monster
of a shadow in the mornings and evenings,
its size shrinking in between. Its shadow
is solid in some places, but has empty
places of sunlight dotting the ground beneath
it, allowing room for purity among the darkness.
This willow tree is immune to the Wind.
It bends whichever way it needs to survive,
sacrificing its tiny leaves to be carried away.
This willow tree is a home.
Small birds build nests on its branches,
laying eggs that will bring new Life to the World.
The nest is supported. Some things of little
weight can be supported, but anything that drags
the branches too close to the ground
will be dropped so the tree can be saved.
This willow tree is weak.
As it grows, its branches come closer and closer
to the ground, for it cannot support the weight
of itself anymore. It cannot help its own soul.
With one swing of an ax, the tree will be felled.
It will be finished, left there to be eaten
and burrowed in and rotted away by the Earth.
poem by Zoe Guillory
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In The Willow Shade
I sat beneath a willow tree,
Where water falls and calls;
While fancies upon fancies solaced me,
Some true, and some were false.
Who set their heart upon a hope
That never comes to pass,
Droop in the end like fading heliotrope
The sun's wan looking-glass.
Who set their will upon a whim
Clung to through good and ill,
Are wrecked alike whether they sink or swim,
Or hit or miss their will.
All things are vain that wax and wane,
For which we waste our breath;
Love only doth not wane and is not vain,
Love only outlives death.
A singing lark rose toward the sky,
Circling he sang amain;
He sang, a speck scarce visible sky-high,
And then he sank again.
A second like a sunlit spark
Flashed singing up his track;
But never overtook that foremost lark,
And songless fluttered back.
A hovering melody of birds
Haunted the air above;
They clearly sang contentment without words,
And youth and joy and love.
O silvery weeping willow tree
With all leaves shivering,
Have you no purpose but to shadow me
Beside this rippled spring?
On this first fleeting day of Spring,
For Winter is gone by,
And every bird on every quivering wing
Floats in a sunny sky;
On this first Summer-like soft day,
While sunshine steeps the air,
And every cloud has gat itself away,
And birds sing everywhere.
Have you no purpose in the world
But thus to shadow me
With all your tender drooping twigs unfurled,
O weeping willow tree?
With all your tremulous leaves outspread
Betwixt me and the sun,
While here I loiter on a mossy bed
With half my work undone;
My work undone, that should be done
At once with all my might;
For after the long day and lingering sun
Comes the unworking night.
This day is lapsing on its way,
Is lapsing out of sight;
And after all the chances of the day
Comes the resourceless night.
The weeping willow shook its head
And stretched its shadow long;
The west grew crimson, the sun smoldered red,
The birds forbore a song.
Slow wind sighed through the willow leaves,
The ripple made a moan,
The world drooped murmuring like a thing that grieves;
And then I felt alone.
I rose to go, and felt the chill,
And shivered as I went;
Yet shivering wondered, and I wonder still,
What more that willow meant;
That silvery weeping willow tree
With all leaves shivering,
Which spent one long day overshadowing me
Beside a spring in Spring.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Eurydice; Where Art Thou? ; A Song
(tuned down 1 full step)
(Em, A7)
(Verse I)
At the Standing Stones, at Willow Grove
Voices call beneath the roots below
Banks of Tartarus River running high(Styx, Styx)
Orpheus laments his death born bride
(chorus) (G, D, Em)
Eurydice; Where art thou?
Below the Upper Air I harken deathly cries
Eurydice; Where canst thee be?
I tarry here as Orpheus at the Willow Tree
(Em, A7)
At the Willow Tree…………………..At the Willow Tree of Love
(Verse II)
The Willows weep lamenting as do I
As The Dark Lord takes below his Death Muse bride
An aspect of myself The Hades be
Yet tears impede my view I can not see
(chorus)
(riff)
(Verse III)
My sorrowed cries indite the midnight air
As I discard my flesh and nothing care
Lilith takes my hand in Hers so slow
An’ through the Willow Root we tae to lands below
(chorus)
(Verse IV)
The Dark Lord meets me on the battlefield
No quarter shall be granted, neither side shalt yield
On the Shortest Day this victory shall be mine
Yet, Eurydice won’t return till Vernal Tide
(chorus)
Em, A7)
At the Willow Tree…………………..At the Willow Tree of Love
Steve Trimmer
poem by Steve Trimmer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Sit Beneath This Tree
I sit beneath this tree,
Bared beneath the moon,
I'm touched by it's coolness,
I'm loved by it's light,
I sit beneath the tree,
The world can see my scars,
The hollow where my heart layed,
And where my soul escaped,
Then in my hand the dagger,
In your hands my heart,
As it quickly slows,
The necklace round my throat,
Slowly drips down my chest,
I sit beneath this tree,
As you hold onto my hand,
My soul it tries to fly,
With wongs broken from guilt,
I sit upon the earth,
As you hold my hands and plea,
Plea for my forgiveness,
Before the darkness takes control,
Plea for my love,
Before I journey to my grave,
I sit beneath this tree,
As you pain my death,
With your guilt and no forgiveness,
I sit beneath this tree,
As my soul it walks away,
Towards loved gates of Hell.
poem by Holly Heron
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Willow Tree
In the graveyard stands a willow tree,
You can hide within its branches,
And it will keep you safe,
And it will keep you warm,
And it will keep all your demons at bay,
I like the willow tree,
It sets me free,
And safe within its branches it cradles me,
As I look out through its branches,
I see people crying for their loved ones,
Tears rolling down their faces,
I want to shout to them,
And let them in here with me,
I like the willow tree,
It sets me free,
And safe within its branches it cradles me,
But I can’t, I can’t let them in,
Even though I know their suffering,
Because it’s the living that hurt you,
And I don’t want too be hurt anymore,
So only my dead friends are in here with me,
I like the willow tree,
It sets me free,
And safe within its branches it cradles me,
The willow tree.
poem by Darren Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Dream in Winter
When all the daisies and daffodils
are buried deep below,
and summer's but a memory
hidden 'pon the drifting snow ~
'tis there beneath the whitened glow,
in a bed of greenest green,
that lives the dreams of springtime hue
with a gleam of emerald sheen.
When all the trees are bared and bent
against wintry winds that blow,
and spring is but a wistful sigh
'pon the branches that bow low ~
'tis there within the boughs so wide,
in a bed of greenest green,
that lives the buds of springtime hue
with a gleam of emerald sheen.
When roses fade 'pon winter's morn
as their petals flee on frosty breath,
and thorns are left to sadly yearn
in their bed of beauty's death ~
'tis there beneath those roses grown,
in a bed of greenest green,
that lives a vision of springtime hue
with a gleam of pastel sheen.
When winter brings a world of white,
a wonderland of icy glow,
and ends the seasons of green, and gold,
hidden 'neath a field of snow ~
'tis there the sleeping earth awaits
in a bed of springtime green,
sighing softly through winter's chill,
'pon a dream of emerald sheen.
poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
East To West
As i walked beneath a huge oak tree,
Its shadow a mere shade,
Faints to grey.
As i sat between the fallen leaves,
Dead, is this me.
Have become part of the lost,
What is the cost.
As the sun sets,
The branches stretch,
There is no wind,
East to west.
The sun, the trees maker,
Humans, we are the takers
poem by Unic Cjonr
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Strange Tree
There’s a strange tree which lives near me,
And this strange tree could not agree,
That if this tree could ever see,
A stranger tree it sure would be.
There’s a strange tree which topples me,
For this strange tree was tall, you see,
And then this tree would use its knee,
To break in three, the clouds who flee.
There’s a strange tree which lives near me,
The northern tree, its branches free,
The southern tree, no limb to see,
For this strange tree, was strange, you see?
There’s a strange tree which I can see,
And this strange tree (against my plea)
Was sent to sea, its roots now free,
And now this tree… A ship is he.
End.
New For Old
Bud blisters into life
Stretching for the light
Unfolding radiant green
Upturned palm to the sun
Life seeping in, breathing out
Green, Green so Green
Resurrected hope, so Green
Summer breeze stroking
Branches ebb and flow
Leaves so Green strong now
Fear not wind of change
Mellow summer turns
Green, green, green-yellow
Yellow area of dieing heart
Green lingers no more
Limp transparent yellow
Barely a breeze takes one
Fierce Hyde-like wind now
Cracking and ripping
Wind torn leaves fall
Life chords snapped
Death too early, still Green
Nourishment broken not ended
Seasons build up to tear down
To build up, to tear down
Leaves fall, Green leaves fall
And then some more
Until leaves are falling, falling
Trees and branches revealed
In the x-ray of autumn blast
Winter is coming
Winter is coming
Yellow pale yellow carpet
Beneath the naked tree
Yellow, mulchy brown
Once crisp leaves scatter
Green, yellow, transparent veins
Tired, half dead, leaves lose their grip
Join the autumn rain soaked mound
Providing new life to the roots
Old for new, New for Old
Seeds buried in death
Bring new life in Spring
In the end is the beginning.
poem by Adrian Wait
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Late Snow
Late winter snow gains impact
through element of surprise
and potential disappointment
burying, as it may,
the tender shoots of spring
Stepping on the toes
of springs first warming rain
the sudden return of snowflakes
guarantees a thicker flocking
on every branch and twig
Night’s chill will seal this fluff
like crystallizing sugar sets cake frosting
I would rather dream of green
buds on trees and shoots of flowers
spared swaddle beneath snow’s blanket
Such choice will not be given
Snow falls, snowfalls
till winter discerns its end
poem by Mary Havran
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Otter Creek
Past meadows, beyond trees, down muddy banks flows otter creek.
King fisher in branches, perched, poised.
Skydiver, bullet from above, silent splash, into otter creek.
Muscles plucked from their beds, shells discarded, gathered for fun, pass up not one.
Trout fry swim swiftly, cray fish beneath rocks avoid seeking hands, pincers poised, threatening stance.
Kids crossing fallen logs, catching frogs, skipping rocks, swimming in otter creek.
Mud wars rage, picnic blanket laid on the green glade near otter creek.
We follow paw prints, beneath willow tree roots, den site dug deep into muddy banks of otter creek.
Within the town of Franklinville, hot summers day, sister, niece, and I, our dad's.
Never saw the otters of the creek, only paw prints, left proof of an existence.
In memories I venture, hoping, just a glimpse.
To sit once again, past meadows, beyond trees, down muddy banks, there it flows, otter creek.
poem by Gary Kedron
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fantasy...
A tree and its shadow
And a dreamy meadow
Waiting for someone....
The Shadow asks ' how is she doing? '
Tree whispers ' shhh! sleeping'
'oops! sorry' says shadow and waits
waiting...they are for the flower that sleeps
on a thin green brunch of the tree
The tree, now drowsy, as sun
Readies itself to set, for the night
and the little shadow? it grows unwatched
With the dimming light
The Tree sleeps,
The meadow sleeps
Huts sleep
and the man inside it
Is in slumber too
Tiny little shadow grows into night
Embraces life with darkness punctured with lights
Dawn Awakes
Sun rays come running back to the tree
Tree asks 'my shadow? where IS he? '
the Tallest palm tree, sky abreast
says 'i think I saw him running northwest! '
The Shadow creeps in and stands upon a pebble
Says ' i wana see...i wana see! ' with boyish charm
Then The flower finally falls
Into shadow's lap
'shh! she's still taking a nap! '
says tree to his friend
Wind blows, it wants to play with her
The sleeping beauty, The flower
'Look! Look! ...she's smiling!
She's happy! she must be dreaming! '
The shadow hushes, excited!
A girl comes out of the hut...
Takes the flower, the sweet, from Shadows lap
What will you do with her, little girl?
She's taking a nap! '
'I'll play with it', the little girl says
The Shadow starts crying
The tree wishpers...
' dont cry dear...let it be...
Tommorrow morning You'll see
Our flower is back with us
On your lap she's lying!
Night comes again
Tree and its shadow sleeps
with Dreamy smiles on their lips
Dawn brings light to the tree and shadow
They wake up and see
Adorned with Dew drops like some rare gems
Their Sweet little flower is back with them!
poem by Saurabh Som
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Willow Tree
Let me be your weeping willow tree
Surround you with my long limbs
My dear, let me grow in the shade
In the sands by the bank of your river
Let I drink from your streams
The cool breeze fill my leaves
We will sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
Sweet river caress how softly
Stir my searching roots
Shading the sun in the summers heat
Let I cool you
We have been dancing so long
In the winters freeze and the summers drought
We survive
We belong
Let us sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
I wish I was your weeping willow tree
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
Let us sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
Let us sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
We can sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
Let me be
Your willow tree
Your willow tree
song performed by by G. Love & Special Sauce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!