Full Moon Behind The Broken Femur Of A Jack Pine
Full moon behind the broken femur of a jack pine
shattered by the wind on the ridge of the hill,
its pagoda of boughs, nothing but a lean-to now
for deer mice, fox, rabbit, groundhogs.
Old manuscripts of rock striated and stacked
by retreating glaciers
washing their hands of themselves.
The hill has never known a messiah
and the glaciers wrote for themselves.
The mast of the moon boat wrecked,
The rectal stake of Vlad the Impaler.
The axis of the world for the auto de fe
of some future heretic
with a penchant for the tragic.
No culpability in the event.
Hawk with an injured wing,
molar, stalagmite, Cinderella
sweeping up the pieces of a broken chandelier
so she won't cut her feet on the stars.
This tree talked to God.
This tree broke like an arrow
to make a truce with the wind.
Detonations of juniper and red ground willow,
splashes of tears and blood
going off like improvised explosive devices
in a mine-field covered in snow.
This tree was caught in a war-zone.
This tree is trying to flag a fighter back on deck.
This tree sailed out and met the French at Trafalgar.
This tree is a seasoned cannoneer
without a leg to stand on.
This tree is the capital A of a sacred alphabet.
The moon rises and shrinks from apricot
to blue-white toward zenith
and somehow metaphors
run off the back of the silence here
like water off a water bird
as a fractured pine
puts its finger up to my lips
and says shhhhhhh
there's nothing that can be said
that's going to make me whole again.
It's not me that you're trying to mend.
The wind shudders
with a bleak chill it doesn't recognize
like a power surge up its spine
as a cult of bats sweep the air helter skelter
like lunar butterflies with teeth.
The brutal clarity of broken things in the wild,
beautiful beyond compare
with anyone's reflexive remedies,
a wound more sublime
than the whole and the healed
among these groves that surround the hill
like devotees at Stonehenge
pouring blood libations
over the dolmen of a Druid
talking in tree language to the full moon
about things that haven't happened yet
and the things that inconceivably have.
poem by Patrick White
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Related quotes
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
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I'm Just An Ordinary Tree
My existence
start from a little piece of seed...
First, I was bury on the ground...
Then, I showed my two cute leaves up in to world...
But it didn't end just like that...
I grow... more and more...
With love, hope and care,
I became a tree...
Tree with many leaves,
if you need some shady circumstance...
Tree with a strong wood,
if you need me to make a good wardrobe...
Tree with a tight root,
if you want to make a solid foundation...
Tree with a sincerely pray,
if you need a support...
Tree with an everlasting presence,
if you need a friend beside you forever...
Tree with a dry branch,
if you want to share your tears...
Tree with a pure dew,
if you feel thirsty...
Tree with a warm wind,
if you get cold and alone...
Tree with a full color's flowers,
if you feel your life so black and white...
Tree with many hopes,
if you lost your dreams away...
But... after all,
I'm just an ordinary Tree...
By: Tree
22 May 2007,7: 02 PM
A Poem Of Syntax
A poet and his bird, his dog, his cat and his tree
A poet and the bird in the tree
A poet and his dog in the tree
A poet and his dog in the tree and the wind and the cloud
The bird in the tree, the dog in the tree, the cat in the tree,
The bird in the tree, the dog on the tree, the cat under the tree,
The bird on the tree, the bird in a tree, a bird in a tree, a bird in the tree,
And the wind and the cloud and the poet and his dog and his cat and the tree
The dog chases the cat the cat chases the bird
And they all arrive in that tree
Where the poet is sitting under that tree
The poet takes the dog and the cat was envious
And the bird looks at them in silence
The silence looks at the poet in the eye
Of the cat and the bird flies away
The poet and the dog is the poem of friendship
The cat and the dog is the poem of the endless natural quarrels
And the bird that flies away against the cat and the dog and the poet and the tree
And flies against the wind that the bird is now fighting
And the clouds that seem so blue and blue
The bird that actually flies away
Is actually me
I was not the poet with the dog
I am not the tree I am not the wind I am not the cloud I am not the poet there who had a dog as friend and I was not the quarrelsome thing from the blue and out of the blue
I am the bird with wings and I always fly away to places
Against the wind to places where I can be as always be the bird with wings in silence
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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You Are The Tree, I Am The Wind
You are the tree, I am the wind,
You alter my course, yet you also bend;
No longer is either the same after each-
I am the wind, be my tree, I do beseech!
Ethereal, unseen-yet alterations I may make!
Magnificent, beautiful-away, my gust, you take!
Together, we are an ever-changing landscape,
Making wondrous reality out of our dreasmscape!
A tree, without its wind-breathless, becalmed:
A wind, without its tree-purposeless, withdrawn!
The wind sweeps around the tree, the tree dances
More inspiring is this than all other romances!
I, the most powerful wind, you, the most beautificent tree;
Wonder do I what, as one, together, we may be!
Maurice Harris,30 August 2009
poem by Maurice Harris
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Happy Tree
Winter cold breeze,
Tree freezy.
The hand of Tree shakes as the wind blew.
So cold tree turn icy blue,
under blue moon night.
Lucky me,
Have a home to keep me dream.
Sweet as white cream,
So sad Tree.
I want Tree to be as happy as me,
Take my puffy blanket,
Roll Treedy like a sushi roll.
Good dream, creamy Tree.
My happy Tree.
poem by Dong123321 4931
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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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A Tree in a Field
There once was a tree,
A tree alone in a field.
And as that tree grew
It got bigger than all 'round.
And people would often stop
Just to look at that tree,
That tree in a field.
Till one day one person,
Went and cut down that tree,
That tree in a field.
And you know what?
That tree learned one thing
Don't stand too tall too fast,
Or someone just might
Cut you down.
poem by Matthew Tener Wade
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~~It was May, The Summer of my 12th Year~~
My fathers' field
acre upon acre of hay
barren in May
from winters blight
perfect for me to play
~~
Flat land
as far as I could see
except for one huge pine tree
a young boy, idealistic still
I thought this tree was grown for me
~~
I climbed the tree most every day
climbing right to the very top
branches formed a perfect seat
magically sitting there
time would stop
~~
Wind would blow, branches creaked
the tree and I swaying with the breeze
protected in my tree
ignorant of life's confusion...
its little ambiguities
~~
Now I wonder, as I sit
in these my twilight days
if only I could travel back
to that my 12th year in May
to hear the wind, smell the pine
and feel the boughs as they sway
~~
I would love to whisper one more time
to my very special tree
thank you so for keeping me safe
and all the memories
but most of all for the excitement
and the passion for feeling free
poem by Peter Shea
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Our Tree
When spring comes round, our apple tree
Is very full of flowers,
And when a bird sits on a branch
The petals fall in showers.
When summer comes, our apple tree
Is very full of green,
And everywhere you look in it
There is a leafy screen.
When autumn comes, our apple tree
Is full of things to eat.
The apples hang from every branch
To tumble at our feet.
When winter comes, our apple tree
Is full of snow and ice
And rabbits come to visit it...
We think our tree is nice.
poem by Marchette Chute
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An Imagination
intentionally i let my right hand hold my left hand
my left hand holds the branch of a tree that
holds some leaves,
my feet are on the trunk of a tree
beforehand i mentioned
there are clouds getting near us
fog that promise a cover
out there oceans sing
stars hang themselves upon a path of the horizon
all imaginary ceilings
where the moon behaves like one big chandelier
there are moment when stars and moon are simply themselves
as moon and stars without
self-imposed meanings and then all that we describe
is that it is the moon and they are the stars
no sauce for more words
nothing added nothing subtracted
faithful to the phenomenon of the stillness of what we see
to still this restlessness
we focus on what we have
a hand holding another hand
a head that looks upward to the heavens
a foot rooted like the roots of a tree
leaves falling like the wind
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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The balloon in the tree
There high up in the tree
was a bright Red balloon
how did it get there I mused?
Was it put there by a little boy
or did the wind pluck it from his hand?
it was stuck firm on a branch now.
When I came by the tree the next day
I looked up and it was still there
and it wasn't the only balloon
there was a blue one and a yellow one?
The following day the tree was covered in them
all different colours and sizes and shapes
the wind and rain couldn't pop them dead.
Every day more balloons were there in the tree
all different colours, shapes, and sizes,
the wind and rain wouldn't hit them at all.
I was the only person who knew of the tree
it became invisible to anybody else
the balloon tree was there just for me.
When a balloon died another took it's place
so the tree was always covered in balloons
throughout the years it stood proud and strong.
You may say I'm making this up or I'm mad
and there's no such thing as a balloon tree
but I know it's true so that's all that matters.
This is for Chloe, Holly, Katie, and Oliver.
poem by Kevin Halls
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St. Valentine's Day
The South is a dream of flowers
With a jewel for sky and sea,
Rose-crowns for the dancing hours,
Gold fruits upon every tree;
But cold from the North The wind blows forth
That blows my love to me.
The stars in the South are gold
Like lamps between sky and sea;
The flowers that the forests hold.
Like stars between tree and tree;
But little and white Is the pale moon's light
That lights my love to me.
In the South the orange grove
Makes dusk by the dusky sea,
White palaces wrought for love
Gleam white between tree and tree,
But under bare boughs Is the little house
Warm-lit for my love and me.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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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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I Say There's A Tree, A Horizon
Big tree
right outside my room
tell me when your flowers will bloom
big tree
a wars'a comin soon
this war'll bring you alotta doom
big tree
spread your leaves and fly
cuz you dont wanna be here when your flowers die
big tree
uproot yourself and run
run from the bullets and run from the guns
war
from the oceans to the land
no more water to fill your hands
flowers
I'll try to water you
but theres salt in my tears and that jus' wont do
big tree
they dont understand
that what they do effects your land
big tree
by you I've made a bed
and I ask you how this war moves us ahead
big tree
my friend whats the cost
if only they could see the faces of the lost
pinecone
shaped like a grenade
the grass where you lay is all I could save
big tree
where have your sisters gone?
to make more boxes to lay flags on?
big tree
where have your brothers gone?
to make more boxes to carve names on?
poem by Chris Osterbrock
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Leaves Turning Grey
Like a carcass lays, an ancient tree,
he tried to pray, through celestial seas,
but his spirit flew just like a bee.
Everyday he gazed at crying clouds,
the wind through his branches was so loud.
He looked for listening ears
as he stood in a sea of tears.
O tree, do you still wade?
Why have you lost your will to change?
O tree, leaves turning grey,
your roots have lost their range.
But how can one ask for help,
when you're not helping yourself?
And so this tree founded on sand,
with the wind tumbled to land.
He's an arboreal fool,
in a world that pulls
his heart and blood apart.
O tree, you've lost your blood,
your dead branches lay in the mud.
O tree, leaves turning grey,
your roots in such ground won't stay.
poem by Soren Valentine
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The Tree's
In the morning the birds sing
The Church bells ring
The Beautiful Tree's Covered In Bark
But what do they look like in the dark
Your walking, and you see the moon
The moon Silhouettes a scary looking tree that fills you with gloom
Carry on walking, Don't worry, no scare
You look behind you 'wasn't there a tree there? '
poem by Holly Chanel
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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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Air Fight
Tree
Fighted
For Air...
Rain non stop
Cyclone on sea...
Tree
Figh ted for
The Air...!
Air...
Broken the tree...
Tree on the road...
Broken to dead also
With out air...
? ? ? ? ? ? ?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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