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The tree softly whispered to me
It wished to be free
Just like me
It wished to walk
It wished to talk
It wished to swim in the sea
It wished to be like me
I listened to its plea
And all I could do was agree
All it did was sit on my lawn
My time with the tree had gone
I got up with a yawn
For it would soon be dawn
I smiled gently at the tree
I told the tree it was very dear to me
I couldn't breathe without it
It provided oxygen for me
I wanted it to see
That it was very precious to me
~13/4/21
A little seed
For a huge tree.
A drop of love
For eternal bliss
People ask why do I love them
And I ponder how to answer…

My love for thee is a tree:
I know not why I grow here.
I know only I found what I needed
For my roots to go deep,
My leaves to bolster in radiance;
I drink and am filled.

But not only for me do I grow
For now the deer have shade
And bark to muse during grassless winter
And homes for squirrels to run about.

Like Elves I am to
those small creatures:
Near timeless, near immortal,
Tall and Slender, ever reaching.

Yet I too must fall,
For I shall grow weary
Of stretching to the sky, and
Digging into the Depths of the Earth.

To the very earth that nurtured me
I bequeath my wealth
e’er morn someday I shall go hollow
When my love has fulfilled me whole.

So I say to thee
When she ask of me
Why I love her so
‘I am the tree
And she thee
Earth and Sun
That let me grow.’
This poem came about in a dreamlike state as I was nearing sleep. All of the times in my life when people asked me why did I love them or why did I love their friend or a friend asking me why did I love this girl and I never new how to answer, until now.

(c) Eric Courtney Haines 2021
Wallflower Mar 2021
Hello,
Hi,
Good morning,
Good night,
Greetings my friends,
It sounds like a chance
Like a start of something new
even when we're feeling blue
they connect us with strangers
and destroy the unknown dangers
And then "goodbye" is there
to end this whole affair
To leave us in peace
so I could write this piece
I'm just a silly human writing a poetry
who doesn't know how to rhyme- a tree
The end isn't supposed to make sense. It just points out the fact that sometimes being silly and not knowing what to write and how to rhyme doesn't really stop you from it.
Abi Carroll Mar 2021
Fire Agate

Rendered at last,
  with seamless lines
    of every shade
  and layer on top of layer

As we know,
  one burning tree
    can set
      it's forest aglow

and so came her soul
  with fire's inside

    But with fire comes chaos

Birches chirp
  for consequential change
    for her edge's
      to chip away
Then a Maple
  , through sweet rustles,
     asks for more
Willows fume
  fatal wishes
    for the forest
    to surrender,
  for water over embers
A Cypress follows
  , with deep concern,
      and begs to stand
Ashes whisper
  for another
    just one more day
But an Elm
  seeks that same color
    but within her
  and to stay

It's dangerous to dance
  with this many tree's

"One day,
  maybe I'll break,
and maybe someone,
  maybe you,
    will see

between the waves
  that meet at peak,
    that fold into another,
see why the cold sky
  shy's behind the hot sun
    but are drawn together,
see below the clear surface
  that deceives
    by gifting you assumptions,
see how clear agate
  over hematite
    gives you iridescence,
see beyond the points
  we know,
    and please see
  where a circle stops.

Maybe you'll see
  what I can't

    , me"
Not Rand Feb 2021
Rotted hollow stumps grow greeting
Minds like yours and mine to meeting
Might and menace - the men retreating
From utter, bar none, monsters beating

Of hearts so strong and weak, along
To stringent thrums they croon our song
They part and in this place belong
Some rightful seat to wax and wrong

In love and scorn, in thoughts alone
Of deeds repaid and sins atoned
Upon the glim we fling the stone
And call aloft to steer us home

But not the blood home whence our birth
Nor still the foster touch of earth
- The flames unfit, the skies in dearth -
Instead on stanchions of our worth

Beneath twin pools of muck and ire
Beneath two more: The beast; The fire;
Ceaseless straits of optic mire
Rivers down and up the spire

From our aft the wire emerges
The string'ed puppet craft from urges
Our safety ropes - A net converges
Upon we fall in chants and dirges

Through gaps astride we tears fall
Side by ****** side from all
Our tide of eyes will cue the call
The masses' fist to uninstall

Yanked aside like rotting weeds
Our amalgam minds took-root recedes
The might has died, the menace bleeds
Our wants - They are this monster's needs
Doesn't make a whole loto f sense without the esoteric lore that goes with it, just checking to see if it sounds okay on its own.
Josie Stewart Mar 2021
sometimes

She thinks about digging it up.
She wonders why she doesn't.
The climate is overbearing.
Why shouldn't she?

sometimes

There is only one answer.
She has but one thing stopping her.
The fruit is delicate and unripe.
She can't spoil it.

sometimes

It really hurts to work.
It takes a lot of care to keep growing.
The environment is toxic.
How does she do it?

Sometimes, all that keeps her going is one small thing, too precious to let suffer.
Alexis K Mar 2021
The wind is in your face.
It's cool and the sun is warm against your skin.
Your hair is just barely blowing in the wind behind you.
The trees are green and the grass stands at attention for you.
The fluffy clouds dance above you as the squirrels scramble.
The flowers are in bloom and colors surround you.
The serenity envelops you and all cares fly away.
Because for at least today you can be one with nature.
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