Poemtree
A mighty oak tree offers shade
to all who choose to rest, freely.
It’s far from any forest glade.
Standing alone in majesty.
Travellers who have rested her
have fastened to this mighty tree.
A notice board on which appear
examples of their poetry.
Some were written hastily
others prepared in advance
Some laminated properly
which can be read at first glance.
Weather worn, unreadable
the early ones which set the pace
although they are illegible
are still left carefully in place.
This is no place for graffiti
but poems written to express
their gratitude towards the tree.
A record of their thankfulness
Who built the board? Nobody knows
nor does it matter seemingly.
Mean while this fine selection grows.
The oak is now a poemtree.
2-Mar-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Two Cats
Two Cats
One up a tree
One under the tree
The cat up a tree is he
The cat under the tree is she
The tree is witch elm, just incidentally.
He takes no notice of she, she takes no notice of he.
He stares at the woolly clouds passing, she stares at the tree.
There's been a lot written about cats, by Old Possum, Yeats and Company
But not Alfred de Musset or Lord Tennyson or Poe or anybody
Wrote about one cat under, and one cat up, a tree.
God knows why this should be left for me
Except I like cats as cats be
Especially one cat up
And one cat under
A witch elm
Tree.
poem by by unknown author
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When I was only three I planted a tree
When I was three I planted a tree. This was my tree and together we would always be. I gave it love and it to me, and so we were happy, me and my tree.
Then one day they came to see me and my tree. Men with no faces, and they said to me, you must go, and leave this tree.
Buy why I ask. For we've done no harm. Me and my tree, please let us be.
So they left us alone, me and my tree, but only for a while but I could not see.
Then one day they came and took me away. My tree was needed to save the day. Goods it will make it makes perfect sense. So we will take this tree, for wood we need. And so it was done, they took my tree.
And now I look around, my tree I no longer see. Taken from, this tree I planted when I was three.
poem by Brad Milner
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The Giving Tree
Once there was a tree....
and she loved a little boy.
And everyday the boy would come
and he would gather her leaves
and make them into crowns
and play king of the forest.
He would climb up her trunk
and swing from her branches
and eat apples.
And they would play hide-and-go-seek.
And when he was tired,
he would sleep in her shade.
And the boy loved the tree....
very much.
And the tree was happy.
But time went by.
And the boy grew older.
And the tree was often alone.
Then one day the boy came to the tree
and the tree said, 'Come, Boy, come and
climb up my trunk and swing from my
branches and eat apples and play in my
shade and be happy.'
'I am too big to climb and play' said
the boy.
'I want to buy things and have fun.
I want some money?'
'I'm sorry,' said the tree, 'but I
have no money.
I have only leaves and apples.
Take my apples, Boy, and sell them in
the city. Then you will have money and
you will be happy.'
And so the boy climbed up the
tree and gathered her apples
and carried them away.
And the tree was happy.
But the boy stayed away for a long time....
and the tree was sad.
And then one day the boy came back
and the tree shook with joy
and she said, 'Come, Boy, climb up my trunk
and swing from my branches and be happy.'
'I am too busy to climb trees,' said the boy.
'I want a house to keep me warm,' he said.
'I want a wife and I want children,
and so I need a house.
Can you give me a house ?'
' I have no house,' said the tree.
'The forest is my house,
but you may cut off
my branches and build a
house. Then you will be happy.'
And so the boy cut off her branches
and carried them away
to build his house.
And the tree was happy.
But the boy stayed away for a long time.
And when he came back,
the tree was so happy
she could hardly speak.
'Come, Boy,' she whispered,
'come and play.'
'I am too old and sad to play,'
said the boy.
'I want a boat that will
take me far away from here.
Can you give me a boat?'
'Cut down my trunk
and make a boat,' said the tree.
'Then you can sail away...
and be happy.'
And so the boy cut down her trunk
and made a boat and sailed away.
And the tree was happy
... but not really.
And after a long time
the boy came back again.
'I am sorry, Boy,'
said the tree,' but I have nothing
left to give you -
My apples are gone.'
'My teeth are too weak
for apples,' said the boy.
'My branches are gone,'
said the tree. ' You
cannot swing on them - '
'I am too old to swing
on branches,' said the boy.
'My trunk is gone, ' said the tree.
'You cannot climb - '
'I am too tired to climb' said the boy.
'I am sorry,' sighed the tree.
'I wish that I could give you something....
but I have nothing left.
I am just an old stump.
I am sorry....'
'I don't need very much now,' said the boy.
'just a quiet place to sit and rest.
I am very tired.'
'Well,' said the tree, straightening
herself up as much as she could,
'well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting
Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.'
And the boy did.
And the tree was happy.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mighty Fine Blues
Feeling mighty fine
Feeling mighty fine at this time, yes I am
Feeling mighty fine
Feeling mighty fine at this time, yes indeed
Walk down any street
Pass the people you meet
What is it about this place that keeps you on your feet
Feeling mighty fine
Feeling mighty fine at this time, yes I am
Feeling mighty fine
Feeling mighty fine at this time, yes indeed
Night is coming down
Closer to the ground
Gonna have a little fun while I'm still around
Feeling mighty fine
Feeling mighty fine at this time, yes I am
Feeling mighty fine
Feeling mighty fine at this time, yes indeed
Don't believe the words they say to you when their soul's hurting
Don't believe a word they say about me because I'm feeling mighty fine
Think I gotta go
Think I'm gonna die
Oh my God somethings wrong
The end is coming near
because I'm
Feeling mighty fine
feeling mighty fine at this time, yes I am
Feeling mighty fine
Feeling mighty fine at this time, yes I am, yes I am
song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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God's Christmas Tree
The traveler told me,
That He had walked far.
And He knew,
He had not much father to go,
Than He asked me,
Did I see the Christmas tree,
With a bright star,
covered in blankets of snow,
Fighting for life,
against nature and man's war.
Needing to find peace for the soul,
Touched by a angel's tear.
Standing alone out in the cold.
Once there was a little Christmas tree,
Adorned with a heavenly star,
Covered with soft blankets of snow,
every year,
The little tree would grow.
Sometime someone would come along.
Leaving footprints in the falling snow,
When they are far from home,
Somewhere out in the cold.
They could see the star on the tree,
Covered with soft blankets of snow.
The little Christmas tree seems to glow.
Decorated By God's hand.
A gift for every man.
A soft light,
in the dark night,
Offering peace for the soul.
See God's Christmas tree,
Adorned with a heavenly star,
A reminder of love,
A star from above,
For the world to see.
God's Christmas tree.
He didn't choose the tallest.
tree in the forest.
He saw that little tree stand alone.
A place where the soul can rest,
While the traveler walks home.
Did you see?
God's Christmas tree.
poem by Judy Arline Puckett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tis Me!
The tree on the left is made of bicycles.
The one next to it is red!
The one in the center is yellow
And the blue tree sits on the right end.
Unless you are standing behind them.
Then the blue tree is on the left.
Next comes the yellow then red tree,
And the bicycle tree comes next!
But if you watch from a merry go round
While it’s spinning in circles you’ll see,
Just a dizzying blur of colors,
Which one now is first, mercy me?
Who has such time that it does take
To sit and write the nonsense we read?
I bet whoever it is he’s retired,
And he looks an awful lot just like me!
poem by Robert Edgar Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Tree To Me
A Tree to Me
Once there was tree
It looks so strange to me
Wondering how it become a tree
A small sprout from a seed in my hand
Now, it's bigger than me.
Unfortunately, tree stood alone
Grows without heart and soul
No friend, no companion
But still stand strong
For you to help on
A tree is a friend to me
That set you free from calamity
From floods and erosion you are free
As you rest under the tree,
Think how lucky you are with a tree.
poem by Cristina Delos Santos
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Shade Tree Horse
You know, I’m just a shade tree horse
I think they know it by now
When the sun is blistering hot
I won’t go in the field like a cow
I’ve tried to make my owner
Realize my station in life
I’ve sent a message to his kids as well
And even to my owner’s wife
I’m special and everyone knows it
If they don’t put me in my stall
When the weather’s so sweltering
There’s my shade tree after all
Then one day the weather will change
And winter will come, of course
But while the sun is a’blazin’
I’m always the shade tree horse!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Under Our Tree
Like fine diamonds, the stars could shine
The evening breeze blowing so fair,
From the dark end I could see none,
And from the light end I could see you come,
The leaves will wither with honour,
Witnessing the arrival of the expected,
Under our tree was a house of love
Midnight approaches for two almost lovers,
Under our tree were moments of glee,
The romantic experiences we saw,
Under our tree was a fairtytale
The sentimental touch,
Under our tree was a moment of relaxation,
The sensetional periodic hugs,
Under that tree was a paradise,
Sitting there, sitting with you
Looking there, looking at stars,
Touching there, touching you legs,
Under our tree was a lost story
It was always you and me there,
The world see but it could never know,
Such our place was so nice to be,
Like proving something to someone,
Someone who is expecting nothing,
In pain and in joy, it remains our tree,
And for what the future has for us,
So shall we always look back at the tree,
And so shall we know where it started,
Under our tree was friendship,
Under our tree was more and more,
Under this tree shall be even more
poem by Gaylord Munemo
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An Do Tu
These past years, you have grown in knowledge
As a tree grows in sunshine.
You have reached out and made friends
The way a tree reaches out and plants roots,
And like a tree in spring
Your personality has blossomed.
May your future be as bright as the sun
And may success rain down upon you
(1984) Written for An on his graduation.
The Poem Tree
The poem tree is a very safe haven,
for birds and fowl, a hawk, a raven, or
a little barn owl.The tree could be a
silhouette, or the finest place to raise
your pet.The poem tree could bear
the fruit of life.Such as apples and
pears, with morning dew.A wonderful
place to play the flute.The poem tree
could have a nest.Giving birds with
eggs, a place to rest.It could capture
a kite who someone lost, or be bitten
by the morning frost.It could capture
a balloon, which went astray, or drop
all its leaflets by the bay.The poem
tree could have a lollipop, or maybe
a candycane, umbrella branches, to
stop the rain.The tree could protect
all animals, from an oncoming flood,
and keep all the tree bugs out of the
mud.Above the tree the sun will shine.
Home for a raccoon, or a porcupine..
The Poem Tree by Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 2011.All rights reserved.
poem by Kim Robin Edwards
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Reservation For One
This is my tree, my tree, my tree,
My one lone tree, pear tree,
It grows, overflows, it grows it’s fruit,
Alone, only for me.
If I could go to a far-away place,
With just me and my tree, pear tree,
I’d pack my bags, my bags I’d pack,
I’d pick up my bags and flee.
There’s nothing at all, no nothing,
At all, that films me more with glee,
Than those globes, those globes,
Of precious fruit in my tree, pear tree.
I sit beneath, beneath I sit,
Its laden canopy, I polish it’s leafs then,
Set a table of fruits,
Of wine, and bread and brie.
This tree, my tree, could feed the world,
Find me a wife and camaraderie,
It’s powers, it’s powers are vast but I
Can’t pass on its secret sadly.
I’d tell the world, the world I’d tell,
If they weren’t all so hungry, you see.
But my fruit, my fruits, my laboured.
Fruits, I grew only for me, for me,
No none are as hungry as me.
poem by Suzanne Louise Bishop
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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from A Fallen Tree All Make Kindling' (dutch Proverb)
Whenever I sit under a tree I’m in my grandpas arms
My grandpa was like a tree with his strong and silent charm
He would shelter the world under his shade
And in the harshest storm he just merely swayed
He was like a tree but not the ones with big flowers
For his beauty was endurance it lasted more than mere hours
My grandpa was a tree the kind with big leaves
The kind that when cut down the whole forest grieves
He was like a tree big and gentle
He sat there and listened kind and parental
And though he was the tallest tree all around
He never looked down on the ones on the ground
My grandpa was a tree his love ran deep like roots
So even when cut down we still have loves fruits
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Under The Laburnum Tree
(A simple tale)
Under the Laburnum tree
She saw his gentle face
Under the Laburnum tree
She knew their first embrace
Under the Laburnum tree
She gave to him her love
Under the Laburnum tree
Beneath the stars above
Under the Laburnum tree
He left her there to cry
Under the Laburnum tree
That`s where she chose to die
(Under the Laburnum tree
Were scattered all its seeds
Under the Laburnum tree
Amongst the growing weeds)
Under the Laburnum tree
The moon was shining bright
Under the Laburnum tree
Her silv`ry soul took flight
Under the Laburnum tree
At last she was set free
Under the Laburnum tree
She found eternity
poem by Valerie Dohren
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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
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Merry Christmas, Baby
Written by lou baxter, johnny moore
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And never brought to mind
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
In days of auld lang syne
Oh ooh
Merry christmas baby
You sure did treat me nice, oh ooh yeah yeah
Said uh, merry christmas baby
You sure did treat me nice, oh ooh
You gave me a diamond ring for christmas
Now i'm living in paradise, oh oh
I'm, i'm feeling mighty fine
Got good music on my radio
(yes you do child)
Well i'm feeling mighty fine
Got good music, music on my radio, oh
Well i, i wanna kiss you baby
While we're standing underneath the mistletoe
Santa came down the chimney
About a half past three
Left all these pretty presents
That you, that you see before me, ohh
Merry christmas baby, merry christmas baby
You sure been good to me, ohh, oh ooh
Well i, i haven't had a drink this morning
But i'm, i'm lit up like a christmas tree
Christmas tree, ohh ooh oh, ohhh yeah
Oooh...yeah yeah yeah
Oh oh ooh
Oh oh yeah, yeah, yeah
Dr. john:
St. nick came down the chimney
About a half past three
He left all these pretty presents
That you see before me
Merry christmas baby
You sure been good to me
Haven't had a taste this morning
But i'm all lit up like a christmas tree
Oh, oh, oh ooh, oh ooh
Merry christmas baby
You sure been good to me
Oh ohh, oh ohhh...
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah...oh
Sure been good, to, to, to...me
Hey...ooh oh hey
song performed by by Christina Aguilera
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An uncreative medicine
no hope
no friend
no family
no home
no nativity
no nationality
no fame
no name
no future
no points
no market
no identity
no possessions still a tree without roots
no relationship still a tree without roots
no anarchism still a tree without roots
no hiearchy still a tree without roots
no country still a tree without roots
no colours still a tree without roots
no degrees still a tree without roots
no certificates
no imaginations
no dream
no poetry
no fiction
no story
no news
no media
no happiness still a tree without roots
no genre still a tree without roots
no labels still a tree without roots
no names still a tree without roots
THE FOURTH EYE
of
A post-conceptual poet.
The big tree
Lets make a tree house for ourselves,
I can remember the words of my love,
Piling up fine wood with your soft hands,
I can see the visions of my love, .
I remember the hanging ropes,
Climbing the tree and tightening them,
It was a tree that we made our tree,
Tears role down my cheeks standing before it,
The footprints of a lost lover I see, .
Your imprints brings sorrow to me,
The tree brings me memories
The swings we made there my love,
Playing while hoping for tomorrow,
Remember the marriage we planned,
The wedding we admired,
And children we debated about,
You said three and i said two,
It was under the tree,
And ended under the tree,
Death took you by surprise,
My hopes so long gone,
My wishes drained into mystry,
Im all alone, with the tree, our tree
You have gone my love,
I wanted to marry you,
I wanted us to grow together,
With our tree, the big tree,
The swings are empty,
The tree house so desolate,
Im missing you.......
This tree shall be symbolic to us,
Us, , , the us that will never be,
As seasons shall surely change and pass,
The tree shall die also,
And will be left all alone, ,
Of course, in solitude
Im missing you
poem by Sir Gaylord Munemo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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