Tree Poems

Popular Tree Poems

The City Planners

by Margaret Atwood

Cruising these residential Sunday
streets in dry August sunlight:
what offends us is
the sanities:
the houses in pedantic rows, the planted
sanitary trees, assert
levelness of surface like a rebuke
to the dent in our car door.
No shouting here, or
shatter of glass; nothing more abrupt

......

Disabled

by Wilfred Owen

He sat in a wheeled chair, waiting for dark,
And shivered in his ghastly suit of grey,
Legless, sewn short at elbow. Through the park
Voices of boys rang saddening like a hymn,
Voices of play and pleasure after day,
Till gathering sleep had mothered them from him.

About this time Town used to swing so gay
When glow-lamps budded in the light blue trees,
And girls glanced lovelier as the air grew dim,-

......

Talking Turkeys!

by Benjamin Zephaniah

Be nice to yu turkeys dis christmas
Cos' turkeys just wanna hav fun
Turkeys are cool, turkeys are wicked
An every turkey has a Mum.
Be nice to yu turkeys dis christmas,
Don't eat it, keep it alive,
It could be yu mate, an not on your plate
Say, Yo! Turkey I'm on your side.
I got lots of friends who are turkeys
An all of dem fear christmas time,

......

Love And Hate

by Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal

Ope not thy lips, thou foolish one,
Nor turn to me thy face;
The blasts of heaven shall strike thee down
Ere I will give thee grace.

Take thou thy shadow from my path,
Nor turn to me and pray;
The wild wild winds thy dirge may sing
Ere I will bid thee stay.

......

A Red Palm

by Gary Soto

You're in this dream of cotton plants.
You raise a hoe, swing, and the first weeds
Fall with a sigh. You take another step,
Chop, and the sigh comes again,
Until you yourself are breathing that way
With each step, a sigh that will follow you into town.

That's hours later. The sun is a red blister
Coming up in your palm. Your back is strong,
Young, not yet the broken chair

......

Recent Tree Poems

Barefoot Tangerine Moon

by Evelyn Judy Buehler

Barefoot in luxuriant grass, luscious, pearl moonlight falling down,
In the golden season of sensual thrills, in the hours without sound,
Underneath the tempting tangerine tree, eating of its fragrant fruit,
With the stars dancing to tomorrow, by enigmatic, invisible routes.

Barefoot in peaceful dreamland, caressed softly by romantic moon,
When the ebony world lies in waiting, for the yellow canary's tune,
Barefoot in tangy tangerines, in the warm, soft, wandering breezes,
In the darkest hours of sleepless night, when it seems time ceases.

The Red at the End of Gold

by Evelyn Judy Buehler

I was a happy fruit farmer, growing delicious, healthy fruits for consumption.
Since we'd bought the farm ten years prior, all the family lent to its function.

It was a large, productive farm, and we ran it with our extended, fine family,
As pretty bluebirds of vivid sunset, are homeward bound to their family tree.

We all had our cozy, separate houses, but came together every working day,
As hilltop blooms gather each sunrise, sensing the luster coming their way!

Our farm produced several fruit varieties, but not my favorite, strawberries,

......

The City Planners

Disabled

Talking Turkeys!

Love And Hate

A Red Palm

Barefoot Tangerine Moon

The Red at the End of Gold

Magnolia Days

Deep Red and Ripe

Canary