Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
AE Oct 2014
They called me a pessimist
And I guess I am
I mean it's true
But it's not my fault that the autumn days are dark
Whispering harshly in the night
Ripping leaves off of trees
Leaving them limp and bare to survive winter
The little winds foreshadow the coming brutal storms
That leave us cold in terror
But the breeze is so powerful
It numbs my skin like a drug
Keeps my blood rushing, wanting more
And my eyes are pleased to see the rainfall of the leaves
From branches of clouds
So beautiful
Then comes the holidays and cremed cocoas
The laughter and the dazzling crisp snow
One true pessimist
They call me but I'll go with it and let it go
RW Dennen Oct 2014
Trees hold the deep earth together way below with crooked fingers of the underworld and catches foul above
Upward to the heavens on finger towers,
clapping on winds they shake their dander
And the makers of green bras on mountain tops

They are the landlords of ground,and air beasts, and
incumbent giants of the ages
They whisper being puppeteered by winds of old
They are the alchemists of oxygen
They are dangling playgrounds
They are the Autumn crunches beneath our feet

Trunk etchings by bards, trees reflecting
cultures' dissemination
We walk under penumbras that deny the scorch of summer
as cool water douses fire, so too, shade douses heat

Watching trees in my pleasant reverie I observe how they
help break the carpeted land, bringing about a  certain diversity in moving tranquility and rustling of their songs
This poem was inspired by my poem "Ancient trees of Majesty" which catches rhymatic couplets
La Mer Sep 2014
Creaming leaves, dripping
off her spiderweb branches
as we eat dinner under the mustard sun,
I feel her nervous as I eat slowly, she glances
at my spiderweb branches and grabs my web.
She spins her prey in my web and moves it slowly
down, among her roots, where I feel gnarled and leafless.
My autumn colors have vanished in her winter
frozen stems, frozen in time, I stare into her
mustard reflected eyes.
Gladys P Sep 2014
Mild winds romantically whisper,
Beneath a sprinkled lit onyx sky,
Cuddled in a half-moonlit glow,
Beaming upon a fantasy world, air brushed,
In a white winter wonderland, quite high.

With streets coated in a blanket of snow,
Glistening through the night, in a fine array,
And tree branches engaging in a heavenly show,
In pearlescent tones and poetic notes,
As autumn seeps away, and a new season comes to play.
Johnny Huynh May 2014
His root is pitch-black
stumbling on broken branches
hopeless canopy
Daylight 4U2C May 2014
I gave away my branches,
I gave away my leaves,
you chopped me up for housing,
then ran off,
leaving me.

I gave away my dirt,
and gave away my air,
I gave away the water,
you said you'd none to spare.

I gave away my patterns,
I gave away my age,
I gave away all I had,
and you'd just take and take.

And now that I have nothing,
I sit alone, and cry
I think how I am now a stump,
and you didn't even say goodbye.
I don't know why,
I give stuff to you.
I tell the others,
it's just what I do.
But I'm ready to jump,
right over the ledge.
You keep laughing,
and pushing me off the edge.
Then you come back around,
asking for solace.
I'd have hit the ground by now,
but i won't get stuck in the past.
So whether or not hurting me was your goal,
Take that you ***!
Being a bully isn't cool.






:3
JR Matheny May 2014
Branches dance bare
blissful breeze
coming warmth soon to be
Liz Apr 2014
The tree's knarled,
melted bark dripped down
the warm, burnt umber
in its spokes, dropping mellowed honey as we climbed the branches.
We spoke of sweet things
like the kind frosts creeping into the valleys of misted bloom, as the silver crescents rise higher by day,
entangled by wreathes of smoke.
We spoke of that very oak tree and how it's palsied trunk had witnesses so many fires.
We spoke of love and how (despite the cliche) we can not live without each other. We together will beat on through the charms of the cold thistle.
We dance round the dusky colonnades as the stars shatter around us and the moon's cancerous head rides higher.
felicia Mar 2014
Try
You were the sun ray
Trying to get to my window
Through the branches of willow tree in my backyard

— The End —