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lunchboxpoems · 2 years

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PADMA VENKATRAMAN

#padma venkatraman #poem #poetry #trees #tree poem #hope

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bugburrypond · 5 months

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(via Head Into the Wood 🌲)

www.laurajaworski.com

#poem #poetry #woods #forest #woodland #trees #tree poem #nature #nature poem #laura jaworski #spirituality #tree quotes #namaste

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haystackpancake · 1 year

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misty rind of busty limes tart and pucker, zesty kind, life's dripping nodes, showers burst rupturing silence of the forest- forest of swaying cranes, soot steeped sofa and concrete panes- but in the jungle of mans design ive got tree cum in my sinuses

Its been so long since I've had time to sit down and write.

#writing #creative writing #original writing #poetic #my poetry #poem #poetry #my poem #poems on tumblr #poetsandwriters #original poem #trees #pollen #tree poem

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inksplashgirl · 2 years

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Trees

They say the trees watched over my cradle- the swaying leaves wiped my tears- and words were not mine when I began to speak, but the trees have always heard me. They shaded my books as I learned their names- daily blessing me, every one- and I talked to them with more love than I did people, so the trees grew alongside me. They were there when one of them died- Her branches had held me as I wrote- and though not another soul sorrowed, my closest, my trees, wept with me.

#trees #friends #childhood #poem #tree poem #poetry #poet #new writer

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scrvwnycherub · 9 months

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trees

i weep, weep like the thin, propelling branches of a willow, as the tender, fragile leaves sway ritualistically.

ever the same, never different.

i weep, i weep, i weep.

i pine for my life prior, pine like the thick, prickled needles adorning the trees in the woodland coating my primary school.

every memory is like a jabbing pine needle to my psyche, until i am nothing but a spiky coat of pain.

i pine, i pine, i pine.

i am ash, not ash like the tall, bright, strong tree, but i am simply ash.

every hurt was a burn mark, a kindling to my flame, until i eventually burned into a pile of ash.

i am ash, i am ash, i am ash.

#idk #tree poem #poem #poetry #writer #writing #trees #bpd #bpd poet #bpd poem #bpd poetry #write #art #love #poet #mental health #sapphic #artist

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geezerwench · 2 years

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Poetry

Brian Bilston

#poem #poetry #tree poem #poem about trees #Brian Bilston

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purplepiratefaerywitchthing · 2 years

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I feel bad about

Grinding up the old stump

In my back yard

For it was once a tree

Most likely a sapling

When this old house was build

1900 or 1901, a long time ago

Either way.

It grew to rise

Beyond the rooftops

Leaves reaching

To the sky.

Cut down, probably,

When "they" had to put in

More telephone lines

But the stump remained

A tomb stone

Roots deep and long and wide

To tell the world

That it was Here

Long before

We were.

When it's gone

Will we remember?

Or will we just

"keep moving forward"

As the laws of Progress

Dictate our demise.

#writing #writeblr #poetry #poets of tumblr #poem #daily poems #tree poem #writing community

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thehornedgodpan · 6 months

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The Nature of Trees

Bright the day, and bright the leaves

Standing firm, neath star-kissed eaves

Waiting, watching, are the trees

Remembering still the old stories

Old is oak, and firm its roots

Steady it is, and swift its shoots

Oak was there, when world began

And oak will see the world again

Ash is wise, its branches tall

Its power flows, the woodlands call

It rights the world, with simple might

Ash works to set the world aright

Elm is bold, its power clever

It twists the world, and loves you never

Elm stands upon the gates of death

And watches for your final breath

Willow wanders, and seeks to wind

Its windswept branches, it cannot bind

The restless world, beyond its ken

Willow bends low, to try again

Oak and Willow, Ash and Elm

See again the mortal realm

They are old, and know what’s true

And still they stand, waiting for you.

#poem #poetry #trees #tree poem #magic #original poem

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bc-byron · 7 months

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The Benefits of Being a Tree

I'm sure that trees think very hard.What else could they be doing?In the years and years of standing,Thoughts are simmering and stewing.They ponder why the sky is blue,Why they haven't eyes to view it.They wonder how their thinking works,Without a brain to do it.They imagine places they would go,If they had some legs to roam,But rooted deeply in the Earth,They're happy with their home.I'm sure…