Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Colm Jan 2018
Thin like the willow
Grey as the dove

Quiet as the wind beneath which pesters the cat floats the wings and sweeps the city streets clean of debris

Dark as the asphalt
Soft as the paws

Lean like meat
Old like soil
And slick like oil as it drips from beneath

Shaking like the bedrock
The running water whips

Damp as the corners
And dry as your eyes
It slips

And where asphalt meets the mossgrown bricks
Corners are placed and worlds collide

And the man within is locked away
Within the metaphorical city street

Would the Central Park I know and love, return to me?
In all such glory

The Willow trees
Must go.
Star BG Jan 2018
Little Bear is so divine
He moves with charm and grace.
Touching many with his writes
I stand to bow in place.

He writes of things that tickle eyes,
of those who gather near.
I am grateful for his poems.
I celebrate and cheer.

May he feel blessings I send,  
as I call all to see.
That he writes on many things,
including a grand tree.

So if you do meet him please,
do say hello won’t you?
As you know him you’ll feel light,
to sing below the moon.
Little Bear is a grand writer. He wrote a poem called tree. It made me want to write to him- to celebrate yes he.
Check it out so perhaps you the reader will remember how great and sacred our trees are. That leaves me with one question
Have you hugged a tree today?
Poetic T Jan 2018
It weeps flakes of time on the
unforgiving floor below....
     like leaves never fading
              stagnant greens linger
deformed by there empty moments

Contorted panels showing the pain
of there absence from the world.
              A glass panel cracked beyond
its sight, distorted reflections collect
fractured rainbows never reaching
                                      there *** of gold.

When the wind cuts upon its shadow,
   this door creaks open, falling to splinters
beyond its creation there is nothing waiting
just an empty space...
           Shut for so long lingering in denial
that beyond it lies nothing of interest..
    it lays on its hinges, a dead tree felled...
Crystal Freda Jan 2018
Glittery and gold,
big and bold,
hallow and round,
Shake it and no sound.
Shining and hanging
for all to see.
Glowing and twirling
its glitters so free.
Crystal Freda Jan 2018
Taupe limbs covered
with powdery snow
clumped together
with a silvery glow.
Harsh winds brush
each crystal mix
drops to the ground
from the taupe sticks.
Plant
a seed
In the soil,
the seed
will grow
to have a
thousand
leaves,
once
you give a
little gift,
you never
know how
your gift
can plant
a tree
within
someone's
heart
Snehith Kumbla Jan 2018
already awaiting
another summer,

in great stillness,
to spread out over

the pruned grass and
mingle with the gentle

sway of the flowering
gulmohars...
Star BG Jan 2018
Old man Willow stands,
regal and proper.
Giving shelter to birds
and is instrument for wind to whistle.

He’s full of wisdom in his roots
that meander to hug feet.
Allows one to hear grand tales
and invites meditation
beneath its woven majestic branches.

medicine from leaves
become tools for healing’s.


Old man river is his friend in distant
as they both sing
in backyard of Mother Gia’s garden.

Yes Old Man Willow is a gift of a sage
who patiently waits to impart his wisdom.
a gift I bow to inside gratitude and smile.
Topic Inspired by Closet Case...Thanks
Next page