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Jesse stillwater May 2018
Some days the wind blows
and bends yonder willow
  Its roots hold sway
  perched high upon
  steep sea cliff walls
No gale could affix
a bow to such a limber
heartwood backbone
  Wind arched echoes
  undulate to and fro
  alike a gentle restoration;
  a resilience unrenowned

It looks as if it takes
the skies weight so lightly,
while the rising waves
gather an unhallowed chill
fomenting untamed
at the heart of the prevailing
       westerly swell

A human tends to lean rigidity
right up to the yonder most edge,
a thin line threshold
        a step away  ―
pushed by a moment's gravity;
a blind jump over a cliff
into an unfathomable deep ocean
       far beyond
       a forgiving
       willow's bend

Jesse Stillwater ... 09  May  2018
AnnaMarie Jenema Feb 2016
Rising to meet the sun,
A relative of the wind and time,
His branches reach out,
Stretching from his slumber.
The forest flames awaken fear,
Into the heartwood at his core,
He gives the thought a shake.
He would like to see the spring,
After the falling snow glazes the forest.
A resident of nature,
The Redwood withstands it all.
bear Nov 2014
I've said that I'm a drifter,
I've said it for many years.
When the hardest time in my life started,
my bark was stripped off.
I want to be strong, like oak
but I have become insecure.
I agree with things I would not approve of
just so people will not chop me down anymore.
I need to be grounded.
People come and go.
To me, this means I have to drift.
I must not get too attached.
I have trouble trusting anyone.
I don't know what my roots are either.
I don't know what my real personality is.
I get bits and prices of others and incorporate it into mine.
my branches have been carved and broken.
I have become plywood.
Plywood that does not fit anyone's needs.
I have a hard time using words like
"Love" or "Best"
to describe my feelings.
I see them as reserved words.
My heartwood is getting stronger
but my heart is not.
I forgot I wrote this. I found it the other day in my notebook.
Grace Pickard Apr 2014
I am a tree
Sprouting leaves
But my leaves too will leave

I am a tree
My thick bark protects me
But contains deep scars

Beneath my bark are layers of life
The history of my surroundings
But my heartwood is dead

My heartwood still supports me
It won't decay or lose strength
But it's only because of my thick bark

My outer bark- gained over decades;
Protects me from the destruction of my
For being
Gracie Pickard April 13, 2014

— The End —