En.Citatepedia^®.ro

That Gnarled Old Tree

that gnarled old tree,
you thought was dead,
withstood the winter storms.
bare bent limbs reaching,
against odds to bud,
holding the sky
in a lovers embrace.
home to the sparrow,
the worm, and the squirrel...
shade to the weary,
a constant guide to the lost.
without name, without need,
rooted deep in the earth...

that gnarled old tree...
is me!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Old Dead Tree

The old dead tree stood
gnarled weather torn;
its limbs were now brittle.
What stories could it tell
of the centuries it had lived,
the passing lives it had seen,
and the storms it had weathered
when it was young and strong.
When its foliage was green
and gave shelter from the rain.
Now it stands bare and broken,
a sorry sight to be seen.
It must have been beautiful
when it was young
with its canopy of green,
and a nesting place for little birds
among its evergreen.
Now they only used it
as a resting place whenever they pass by.
The old dead tree,
which had seen so much life.

17 September 2008

poem by David Harris
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The heart of a tree

With branches reaching out as if for a embrace
The tree may bow to nature with grace.
He stands alone when the wind blows strong.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eyes can't see.
Like the heart of a tree.
In winter's cold chill, You can see the tree stand still.
Leaves are gone but the tree stands strong.
Until winter turns into spring and the birds begin to sing.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eyes can't see.
Like the heart of a tree.
Through storms and the wind. Bowing with a graceful bend,
Until the sun shines again, still standing at the end,
The tree is like a true friend.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eye can't see,
Like the heart of a tree.
The old Tree's secrets
How many lovers sat together under the old tree?
If only the tree could speak.
The stories would be of weary travelers
finding a place of peace, and dreams in their sleep.
Stolen moments of lovers, perhaps a sweet caress.
A young man with a ring, a young girl said yes.
Tree I only imagine, I enjoy the guess.
Gentle breezes that lifted the leaves
to let them gently fall to earth.
Misting rain to meet the tree's thirst,
Perhaps two trees inter-twined are
Two lovers that were curst.

poem by Judy Arline Puckett
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Bare-Limbed Tree

summer gone to dog days,
autumn approaches on a
strange wind....
i long to watch the leaves turn,
and fall, tiny love stories

that no one else can see.
and the sound the bare-limbed
tree makes... reaching for the sky,
reaching through winter for
the spring....

the smell of woodsmoke,
coffee and brandy by the fire...
a thousand memories turned
to brown, lost to eternal moments,

i am that bare-limbed tree!
reaching for the sky, reaching
for another spring.... reaching
through death, reaching for you!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Big Tree

Big tree
Standing tall
Against setting sun
Majestic silhouette
Geometer's delight
Deep rooted trunk
Branches reaching the sky
Tree depicts life...

Every leaf
Shape so unique
Defining tree family...
Magical colors applied
By Creator's bold strokes
With the brush of seasons
Amazing panorama spreads out
Everywhere and all around.

Flowers spring out
Beauty and fragrance
Magical transformation
Into fruits
Nature transports seeds
To far off lands
It's a new cycle
Trees..forest...life.

Big tree
Stands still
Stands waving
I keep watching
Its far reaching ways
Tree gives us life
Tree gives us shade
To rest and contemplate.

poem by Tirupathi Chandrupatla
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Hill slope

Down on the hill slope a tree was there with flowers on it,
Season came and season goes,
it remain there with shade and fruits to give,

Small wood pecker or big owl,
all were there as it was there home to live,
One day a wood cutter found it useful to him,
he thought it to cut and takes its wood to sell in city,

birds and squirrel on tree helplessly saw the tree,
they tried to make noise,
but it didn't affected the woodcutter in the need

he cut down the tree to take the wood,
the tree on hiill slope became log of wood,
weak protest of bird and animals,
on it was not enough,
to save the tree.

tree full of life became silent as saying what was my fault,
is it only there right to live,
but yes its true only humans here,
are powerfull and can do anything to live and win,

hill slope became barren and dry like desert
poor tree however it was home for many
didn't found the place on to live on earth.

the reason it don't understand
why it is weak and meek.not able to
survive and get its right to stay alive to give shade and life to others.

poem by Hemu Gupta
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Wild Wild Party In The Loquat Tree

Out in the back by the grape stake fence
Is a place where nature makes so much sense
All the creatures livin in harmony
Its a wild wild party in the loquat tree
Fuzzies and furries run walk or fly
Havin a feast beneath a clear blue sky
Animals comin from miles around
To bounce the branch and shake the loquat down
The squirrel and the sparrow and the mouse and the bee
All havin a party in the loquat tree
Eatin all the yellow fruit they can see
Its a wild wild party in the loquat tree
Peckin at em pickin at em hidin em away
Savin em up for a rainy day
No matter how big no matter how small
Theres more than enough theres plenty for all
The squirrel and the sparrow and the mouse and the bee
All havin a party in the loquat tree
Eatin all the yellow fruit they can see
Its a wild wild party in the loquat tree
Chatter chirp squeak buzz
Chatter chirp squeak buzz
Chatter chirp squeak buzz
Chatter chirp squeak buzz
Every little loquat holds the seed
For a brand-new baby loquat tree
One o these seeds may find its way
To a place in the sun and then someday
The squirrel and the sparrow and the mouse and the bee
All havin a party in the loquat tree
Eatin all the yellow fruit they can see
Its a wild wild party in the loquat tree
The squirrel and the sparrow and the mouse and the bee
All havin a party in the loquat tree
Eatin all the yellow fruit they can see
(eatin all the yellow fruit)
Its a wild wild party in the loquat tree
(eatin all the yellow fruit)
The squirrel and the sparrow and the mouse and the bee
(eatin all the yellow fruit)
[havin a party]
All havin a party in the loquat tree
(eatin all the yellow fruit)
[in the loquat tree]
Eatin all the yellow fruit they can see
(eatin all the yellow fruit)
[havin a party]
Its a wild wild party in the loquat tree
(eatin all the yellow fruit)
[in the loquat tree]
Chatter chirp squeak buzz
Its a wild wild party in the loquat tree
Chatter chirp squeak buzz
Its a wild wild party in the loquat tree

song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Miracle!

the way your
small hand fits
in my gnarled and

battered old hand...
and feels like home!
your fleeting smile

a cup of water,
a tree giving shade
against the sun.

what you say
never speaking a word!
what you give...

without looking back!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Grass is easier?

Up on a windy hill a tree is
a grassy field wind is the breeze
birds and bee's play and play
long lost lovers sign there names
in the tree
a tire swing sways and sways
on this tree
children songs and voices
filled the air at the time
now and days the grass is dead
tree is bare and the birds and the bees
play else ware
long lost lovers are lost
the names wore and decay
on this tree
a tire swing once swayed
on this tree children played
now on this tree smoke and ash lay
songs and voices now all gone
for this is the tree we once plaid on

poem by Cody Lee Jones
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I Love You

i love you as the leaf,
shouting, 'i am tree'...
i love you as the piece of straw,
woven into the sparrow's nest.
i love you as the pebble,
dreaming, 'i am mountain'!
i love you as the rain,
licking the thirst of the grasses.
i love you as the weathered old oak,
bent and gnarled, still strong.
i love you as the cave,
and as fresh fallen snow.
i love you as time itself,
weeping as it sweeps your footsteps.
i love you as the wind,
coming when you need it most!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Proof positive 2011

Proof positive 2011

This tree is where no tree should be.
It clings to life precariously.
From whence it cam nobody knows.
All that we know is that it grows.
Although it’s stunted gnarled and bent.
It has survived that’s evident.

Perchance it’s where it should not be.
It does not matter to the tree.
This is the only place it knows
and so it very slowly grows.
Defying rules conceived by men
It forces them to think again.

Although the experts all agree.
It’s an impossibility
The tree discounts the experts view
A seed took root and simply grew.
That’s all seeds know how to do.
Its mere existence proves it’s true.

Tuesday,27 December 2011 http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Father Squirrel (Dedicated To My Father)

I watch a squirrel outside in a tree,
he seems so alive and free,
hopping from one tree to the next one,
I watch and think what fun. Down the trunk to the ground,
scampering, hunting all a round,
until the nuts have been found,
back up the tree he goes,
while a gentle breeze blows,
tree to tree he leaps,
you can not even hear a peep. Into his home he goes,
the winter harvest he sows,
day by day he repeats these steps,
so his family will be well kept.

poem by Kathleen Johnson-Breakfield
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My feet are like gnarled old tree branches.

quote by Dennis Rodman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You And The Tree

As I see you standing there
looking at that tree.
Many a thought come flocking by
deep-down inside of me.

I can't decide whats more beautiful
You or the tree?
I stand flummoxed, captivated
Immersed in deep mystery.

I find you protective as the tree
sheltering me in your arms.
I find you reassuring as the tree
Always believing in me, always firm.

You protect me from life's harsh realities
as the tree shades the rain and light.
You shield me from all misery,
you give me a reason to fight.

Whatever it is, I don't care.
I want both of you here.
The tree for its shade and you as my mate
And then i can spend ages here.

poem by Bistirna Barua
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The Willow Tree

Around the willow tree
Sounds of life rang through the air
It felt like home to me.

Home, where I was not.
But this willow tree comforted me,
And so I forgot.

This tree was part of me.
It's limbs swaying so gracefully
A lovely thing to see.

But now I am back home.
And I think about the willow tree
Standing all alone.

Home, where I'm glad to be.
But often I still find myself
Longing for that tree.

poem by Desiree Peters
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Killing Trees

Ev'rytime I write, my pen chops a tree,
Hacking it down with an ink-blotted blade.
I see it bleed in black as my thoughts seize
My hand and slice into the bark and shade.
I split the tree of its epidermis,
Shaving the skin off to maybe reveal
All the growth rings and perhaps their purpose—
Though I scar its stem where it cannot heal.
I take the flayed peelings and uncover
The tree's inner feelings the more I press.
Further I go, further I discover
I can cut through all deep-rooted distress
Because I am the tree, tall and sturdy,
And I will fall by my saw when ready.

poem by Tim Stensloff
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Tree

Ancient tree
Aching twisted limbs, gnarled and torn,
Wind battered, weathering and worn.
What stories can it tell?
Through generations of sunshine,
Through decades of rain,
Storm battered, weathered by pain.
What stories can it tell?

© 2012

poem by Nick Strong
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Which Tree Am I?

Which tree, Which tree, Which tree Am I?
Do gaunt limbs swing high upon my trunk-
Etching signals in the sky?

Maybe my roots are solid and firm,
Grounded in being, strong and thick,
Passing soil and grub worm?

Specifically-
Am I, perhaps, an evergreen?
Warm and welcoming- Sheltering,
Birds within my canopy?

Or-
Do I sag, like a willow,
Showcasing agony with each wind,
Whispering melancholic mellows?

Which tree, Which tree, Which tree, Am I?
Oak, Redwood, Willow…. Bonsai?

poem by Lazarus Knix
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The Almond Tree

This snowy cold December morning
the pen
is full of almond branches, leaves
and black gnarled twigs covered
with white blossoms
the scent of that tree is intoxicating
for here on the real earth,
such trees do not ripen,
nor bear the fruit of that tree.

As children our first movement is to sing joyous songs,
innocent voices, filling mountains and dales with arias.
As adults our first movement is toward joy,
yet we give it away, venting full expression
to a gloomy tho not unfamiliar view of life.
once delighted with the world as children
now the world is in a tangle,
for opened eyes have seen only the glow of fires,
massacres, injustices, humiliations,
and the unrelenting shame
of braggarts and despots.

I look at the pen, it's branches, twigs, leaves
now covered, with cherry blossoms
and breathe in the intoxicating scent of that tree
knowing full well such a tree does not grow in dirt
nor can humanity cut down that tree.

That tree does not desire to save
nations or people
heal the sick,
raise the dead,
connive with politicians,
nor change drunkards and fools
with songs of hope...

The only goal is this, only this
that I see and smell the almond tree,
learn to look with love,
heal this heart,
without knowing from various ills-
for that almond tree says to me: Friend
stand in the glow of ripeness with me
not knowing what purpose served.

Through worm filled tufts
in that sweet garden
that almond tree raises it's eyes
and every blossom
enjoys the air it breathes

poem by Liberatore Suffoletta
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The Giddy Tree' by David Hart

'The Giddy Tree' by David Hart

Giddy tree, oh giddy tree
You tickle my funny bones
You see

Your branches swirl and twirl
And you look all gnarled and
Ready to unfurl

You creak and swing with
Ease
In a sweet swirling and
Affectionate breeze

Feisty tree, oh feisty tree
Butterflies dance
And fall in a frenzy
At your knees

Silly tree, oh silly tree
Ladybugs sunbath and linger
Giddy on your leaves

Limber tree, oh limber tree
You give and you live
A delight to the
Sight
and always you please

Dreamy tree, oh dreamy tree
Love birds surround you
and like adventurous ships sailing on
Sprite and dazzling seas

Charming tree, oh charming tree
Little children squeal and tickle
and swing on your arms in
the breeze oh so fickle

Mysterious tree, oh mysterious tree
The sparrows adore you
The squirrels they implore you
The owls ever asking you,
Who, who, who
The stars with certainty
Know you are no fool

You are a funny and twisty and
dreamy and mysterious and
wonderful and charming
tree, you.

poem by David Hart
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The Green Bay Tree

'Where is the place of their first fond meeting,
'Where, oh where, is that green bay tree,
'Under whose cover
'The maid and her lover
'Plighted their troth and their constancy?'
O the winter nights were bleak and dreary,
The storms of summer were fierce and free;
Its trunk is shattered,
Its branches are scattered,
O! withered and dead is that green bay tree!

'Where are the lovers who courted its shadow,
'Where, oh where, may those fond ones be?
'The troth which they plighted,
'How is it requited-
'Say, have they forgotten that green bay tree?'
The lover was fickle, and would not remember;
He met with another more fair than she;
For her-broken-hearted,
Her peace hath departed,
The maiden doth fade like the green bay tree!

poem by Charles Mackay
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