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Based on a true story .
Sunday afternoon in the middle of August. Sun lounging high in the sky. A cloudy menagerie decorates her home. I walk down to the river Hear the boats passing by A roar of engines and water
𝓗𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓾𝓹𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓢𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝔀𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓷𝓮 𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓮 𝓐𝓵𝓵 𝓘'𝓿𝓮 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓲𝓷 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓦𝓪𝓼 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝓮.
Yoshino cherry tree, blossoms glistening in the sunMost vibrant display of white-pink blossoms, with faint almond fragranceDelightful moment, overcome by a massive sneeze attack. .
Dark brown swampland meets, Where frogs roam free. Willow, that’s her name. They think your weeping, why have you led them to believe so? Weeping Willow, That’s what I’m told happens so.
The path of a forest stream is guided by the gentle branches of surrounding groves meandering angles shaped by stoic roots driven deep into the bitter earth
The path of a forest stream is guided by the gentle branches of surrounding groves meandering angles shaped by stoic roots driven deep into the bitter earth making dirt and mud their mossy home.
I saw upon yonder, a tree standing alone,Upon a hill, so stony and cold.I wandered that hill up to the tree,And to my surprise, the tree said to me,
The star shine is bright, blinding sparkling blue and red and orange and yellow so she has to squint. The contrast of light against the total black of the night sky is nearly unbearable.
Never be afraid to turn away from the past.Never be afraid to burn the bridges.Some people can only grow once their roots are nothing but ashes.Like a pine sapling after a raging wildfire.
I know why the willow grows. It grows for a life it yearns to know. It grows for you. It grows for me. It grows so tall for all to see. The willow grows because it can because no one told it that it can’t.
Have you ever starred in wonder At my favorite of sights A treat that’s only possible On dark and stormy nights When the light behind a leafless tree Seems to set the wood a glow
Can you smell the smoke? like the smell of summer nights we can barely remember, sitting in circles around a glowing red light. Do you hear the distant crackle?
I used to read a lot more, That’s just a hardened fact. Now what I read is simply for school, Annotations, blue and black. I remember loving books,
The trees in New York are so much wavier.There are different layers of opposites.Cattails in front of my nose, that house on the hill is staring into my eyes.I’m beginning to trust my gut more lately and I’ve been lucky not to blend into a peach f
If I was a tree, I’d be a lonely one Waving at people as they go by It’s a hot afternoon, the rays of the sun Make me grow up, but this tree will still cry 50 years later, of standing so still
Fearless or frozen, how do I chose? If I’m stuck in my tracks, then I will lose. Fight or flight, what’s the best option?
Sallow, sickly trees Hide the cunning wolf from view; Lurking in the dark
Your love came like a seed, Spreading roots inside me. Now, it became giant and to the sky defiant.
Still it stands, Tall and strong. With battle scars a mile long. It reaches high among the stars, And makes us wonder what we are.
Two waves in the sea Two branches of the tree Two wings of the bee These are you and me In everywhere I go I keep your love to gr
I was born Of a European Yew. Its mighty bough had grown Twisted and encrusted With moss In the garden of my great-great grandfather. As he left his house for the final time
In the center of my heart She planted a tree. Happiness a branch I'd soon know. The leaves sprouting in full with no limitation to height. The roots carry the depth of how far her hands have gone.
Get Free Jeffery: Making out --- Get out get free Jeffery - Break the mold Model the mound of clay Tracers free the me see the key dream the new acts of power.
A tree stands still. It grows from a seedling, A small little thing destined to be something great. A tree stands still. Waiting for it's turn to shine.
The ground seems to break open To reveal a tower tall I wonder what would happen If the tower were to fall The tower seems quite planted To the earth on which it stands
Reading the "Giving Tree"again at age twenty-three, made me reflect onmy current anger with my mother.She has been there for mebut as I have grown older, she became the boy and I became the tree.
tell me that you want a tree, an Apple Tree. the fruit you desire, it will produce but, if you, plant it first. the tree will give you many years but, if you, will give it drink.
Dearest Friend, Lend me your branches, that I may spend upon them a sultry summer day Enfold me in broad leaves allow secretive breaths to divulge the heartbeat of the forest
Dear Eyebrows, The fuller you became, the fuller I did, and when you became sparse, I did too.
Hunting, stalking Silent anticipation Waiting, watching Obsessive fixation Remember last time In the yard The intruder got away Not again This time we win
Why do you stand there throughout the wear and tear? You watch for all time committing a victimless crime. You are bound by root
Often seen,Beneath all tree,Green feather fallen here.GentlyLyingCaringCryingBeneath all tree,Green feather here.
Strong as an Oak, Tall as a Pine, As beautiful as the Willow, But single spark, Or lightning's arc, Can burn up all the Meadow.
I stand barren until very late spring in a yard of evergreens and hundred-year oaks young and a stick figure, not enough rings under my bark.
Dear friend, How are you? I must confess, That mine eyes have not seen, Your beautiful tress. Of green leaves, And long boughs, And fresh, gentle touch. I miss you,
Outside my window The last leaves left clinging to a tree Blowing against the bright sky are triumphant still Fluttering relentlessly like one hundred starlings Practicing to take flight
Trees take time to grow Love takes time to grow Cannot be forced into something it is not or manipulated into moving faster than it is able
I took an online quiz a few years ago...It told me that my soul was ancient,So I sat down today and dusted off my art pens,But I could not put down the image I saw.It eluded my fingertips.
My soul rests within your twisted knots, Warren and bear from storm and play. Each stroke of your bark holds separate memories, We pass you by without second thought.
If ever under an old gray treeWhen hesitation and anger scold free Remember the soft glow of the old jagged moon
The cherry blossom tree, likes to hide away its plumes, but for two weeks everything changes. As the spring dawns it flames out, pink blossoms opening up.
the man lived all by himself in a house down by the creek and he used a whittled stick to walk because his joints were very weak
I have no one No one has me I am all alone Stuck in a tree The leaves are changing The birds are singing In comes new weather That fall is bringing I have no one No one has me
Poetry Flourishes like a tree, Expanding it branches, Reaching, stretching Trying to expand Leaves form Blossoms bloom
It started as a gentle breeze,a whisper in my ear:the weeping of a weeping willow,weeping out of fear. 'Why do you weep, weeping willow?There is no reason to cry.'
The monster knocks,knocks knocks, collectively at our minds and lingers there daring to be moved away from its throne. Fear they call it, reigns over our thoughts
Last night I was perched High up on a tree. The higher I was, The more I could see. How great this view shines Way above the ground. But I could see more. How great did that sound?
Let me tell you a story, Fantastic as can be, It's about a perfect man, He who died on a tree. It was not a hanging, that's far from true, It's called a crucifixion, and He died for me and you.
Being excited to start the New Year Knowing there is nothing to bring you bad fear Maybe you’ll get up and grab you a beer Happy and joyful for the upcoming cheer Family and friends will all gather around
Brush strokes over a canvas, Waves, like roads, Like branches on a tree. An old car, papers balanced on the dash, The weaving highway a snake, Glints on the horizon of sunset-red.
all write on the living and not much of the dead on a garden of fully grown big, gigantic and enormous trees trees of full green leaves are what is written about
E! was I Green Someone painted me in Red I lost my naturalness Giving rise to artifice I was posted On a manmade web Alterations had I gone threw
I am a Seed Wanting Longing to be watered, so I can spread my roots into the ground Wanting To be able to dig deep down and build a path towards my own success I am a Seedling Visualizng
What potter molded your clay? You stand so tall and mighty. Your roots run deep, and your colors change as the seasons do. You battle storms. No matter how much you sway, you always stay.
I am a percentage, I am the one out of four that suffers inside my mind I am the seventeen of one hundred born with darker skin
I walk through the park I see a tree A tree with no leaves I look at the tree The tree looks at me I'm looking into a mirror I am the tree The tree with no leaves
The light shines bright as the sunset rises
Can You See? Have you ever wondered how a cave would react if light would stream in unashamed? Could you imagine the things you could see
We can only climb as high, As low as we can sink. I love how you keep my head in the sky, And never put a reign on the power of think. I grew roots into soil I never wanted;
When I die I want to be a tree, That may seem like a weird thing to be,
I had faith once Never questioned, never thought of twice I followed as hard as I could Maybe even harder than i should've I was on top, always trying to strengthen the foundation
The black bird hiddenA crow, dark as nightAmong the willow branchesCascading to the groundA song so mournfulFlat and broken, a puzzleIncomplete.
The flowers were around me Like pink tissue paper Guarding a presant From eager eyes. But this presant wasn't nail polish, Lip gloss or barbie dolls, It wasn't mudpies, Or beebee guns for guys.
The cracks in your trunk chunk together a sort of pattern,
The Beauty of Life The Beauty of
Limbs are lengthy like a tree. The smile is blossoms for all to see. Voice of syrup sweetly flows, Kind despite all the highs and lows. Through each winter the life persists,
So lightly you appear And my mind just can not compare Since everything is so different. How can it be this colorful? Still my sorrow lingers on too. My heart aches at the loss
I used to see myself as a tree. One of those that come in a bag, (go in a bag,)
The leaves slowling falling down So many leaves on the ground Branches swaying back and fourth The wind moves them and makes them free The trees look so alive They move and they breathe
What I'm about to say is from what I've learned No matter your agreement or concern Poetry can be written by anyone No matter by paper or touge Your reason or cause
Where the air flows fresh and crisp And life radiates shades of green And orange and red and colors That run deeper than the scars Of the Earth; Where the grasp of man halts, Giving way to nature,
The clouds roll over the sky, And the rain begins to fall, As if they have lost everything. Some think it's beautiful. But if crying is beautiful, then so is the darkness.
Being alive im cold I cant breath Life being taken from me as i lay asleep My mind wondering , whats happening to me Life isnt over? Than why do i feel dead Fighting a nightmare Looking for a dream
my heart has been through so much, i figured i wouldnt have to take another break...
“This life is not and easy one,” the tree said to its seed. “Make sure the place you settle down has everything you need.” “Water’s good but it’s not enough, you also need some light.”
Out of the ground of mystery I sprout, Bearing the fruits of eternity. No one really knows where I begin and end my journey, And what I will bring. Love and joy bloom on my branches,
Green sap oozing from great gashes in trees into paper, furniture, and houses all for human needs like the great stashes of black oil oozing.... into lakes, rivers, and streams
A tree on stage watch me grow, but i guarantee not a sellout show.
If I cry or if I'm down My resillence picks me back up My legs may be strong but my mindset is stronger My confidence is not found in a cup When I feel weak I say, "I'm strong" and that just does the trick
A Cardinal Sings With soft red wings Such happy things Underneath the shade of a tree Right now he only sings to me!
The tree laughs Children play below On a hot summer day so slow The tree is shade And the tree likes offering aid The tree smiles A couple look deeply into each other's souls
Family. Such a frail fragile thing It is a living ecosystem of aunts and uncles Mothers and Sons, daughters and their fathers. What becomes of this intricate unit when it is disturbed?
There will always be a tree alive or dead to climb or to sit under feed it and water it growing and growing it gives its life for us to have warmth and coziness there will always be a tree
A great tree with massive boughs, Sends its roots to the center of the earth. It does not move or sprint about, But dreams of things in silence with mirth. A great tree with sturdy ancient trunk,
Once I looked down while sitting in my favorite tree And I asked the tree how high the fall? The tree responded quietly to me, "If you worry about falling then you'll never see.
On a clear night, I look up and think that the sidewalk would rise vertical so that I may walk all those miles to the stars and on a bright morning as the sun still nudges the horizon,
I will look upon a normal tree, Robust trunk and swinging leaves, Then realize I wanted a flower. I’ll tell myself it could be one, Then it is, the transformation done, Less of a tree with each passing hour.
The woods were encumbering in the sunrise. My gut wrenched with uncertainty of the buzzing feeling atop my forehead. A little green creature rested in the nests of my tousled hair,
Dear Branches, Gnarled and twisted. Dear leavess, Brown and rotting, We give thanks to thee, Dear tree For through thee Our family lives vicariously. Though dead and gone,
I love beautiful Blue Birds Beautiful birds Beautiful peddles Different flowers every where Roses are Beautiful Wind is sometimes calm The wind is sometimes very cold
The description of the To Be Heard Scholarship Slam asked the question of who I want my poetry to reach. The answer is simple, my daughter.
A dying tree makes me weep.How beautiful it once was,how it will never be again.It’s branches no longer bend.It longs for sleepas Spring brings ever-closerits impending end.
I want to reach up and touch the tip Of the tallest tree on the tallest hill And maybe then I'll get a look At all the world and have my fill Of forests and mountains Of lakes and streams
Family is a bridge to our past, present and future.
Leaves fall from a Tree, Landing on the lifeless Earth, Life leaves its Branches.
As a baby, I laid and cried in my crib Observing the sunlight peering through my window
My brethren and I are thrown,
A brown leaf in an autumn breeze
A nimble spirit dancing this wayAnd that way, through the bare tree limbs;Resting for now, this moment.The breeze stirs translucentCelestial void;Cradled by Night,Exquisite,GorgeousNight.
I am but a tree, warm and blossoming. Once lost stood a green flower. In years past the tree faded. wilted medows. Over milked by the air and left ungifted and filthy by society. a green cherry long gone.
Why all the restrictions? There are so many, they are suffocating me. It's no wonder I have this devastating addiction. Recall that similie of ones life and a tree? Well, it apllies to me in every sense.
a Tree falls the way it leans, leans the way it grows, and grows the direction of sunlight. We grow the way We are planted. Trees are not We, and Trees will We never be.
For many years we were planted in this soil together. We grew from seeds to saplings, our roots entangled. Now there are thick forests separating us, and I have been replanted into such foreign ground.
The trees are lovely, green, red, orange, gold, and gone. Then they are naked. Leaves parade across
I am a tree in a forest of trees At first glance, there's nothing special about me We're worn down - some more than the rest We've stood through each storm, through every test
To be heard i
Each tree is a soldier lined up for war, Motionless with its comrades, Eyeing stumps of fallen friends. Morituri te salutamus. Dad carries the sparkling saw, its teeth
Age and age again it stands, And beholds the change of the land. Through rain, shine, snow and fire, Young trees grow, the old retire.
A practically endless stream of copies lines the shelves at just about every store we can think of.It’s printed so very often.By so many different publishers.
I may not be able to speak, But my branches tell a story deep I was once a seed, just like you My mother, Nature, from which I grew; Protected by a womb of dirt, Nutrients, water and time I took.
Preciously you lay Underneath the willow tree Upon gentle ground
I remember the dirt buried beneath my fingernails. The anxious feeling of a young girl, choosing the perfect seed to plant. I remember the sense of calm.
It's the beauty all around, that calls sweetly to deaf ears. Persisting that it's presence be found, but not many hear. A voice melodic, story hypnotic, with love and sadness intermingled. Eternal love and freedom began with strife.
The moon has set and it is dawn Wind brushes my limbs on the surface Its briskness makes me tremble My world is quiet Except for the whispers of creatures Who live beneath me
The thoughts of running myself into a car, or wrapping myself around a tree is automatically followed by that of apathy and then sorrow for even thinking of putting that kind of weight on my parents
There once was a planet,a ball of rock, dirt, and granite.Full of life, lush with green,it was like a heavenly dream.Populated with beasts of every kind,the void of the universe it redefined.
Lonely little tree, Not even a leaf on it, Come to my garden
I see a world below but nowhere to say hello I am up in the tree speak to me For time is too slow and I can't let you go Let me hide in the sun's rays because I know you can't stay
As I drive along the back roads, I come upon a dirt home next to an open fence for my truck to rest.
i am only branches and leaves you carved into my finite flesh and still used my shade took all i had left me bare and petrified i can give no more for i am only branches and leaves (c.z.)
The skin that I am in is my own For it is something that I could never loan It is the bark on my bones the shell on my back It is the canvas of life for the voice that I lack
The Sycamores sit high enthroned Above a frozen stream, Limbs bare as bone, Like old skeletons from a dream. But Beeches wear their leaves quite late So that when other trees
O' Thy sweet hollow tree Kind, wild and free Some describing generation Protecting us from invasion Others not knowing the occasion With their long and lengthy arms They are usually standing on farms.
My friend is a tree He sprouts and grows And he loves me He's sort of shy Because he's a pretty small guy But I love him just the same I know he shouldn't worry One day he'll be taller than me
It rises like a pillar from the ground Its skin rough and grey The branches bristle with thousands of leaves Quivering in the brisk wind They are bright gold and ochre
Along a lost dream, He grieves the loss of reality. And feigns forgiveness to the dry bones Of humanity. Society and it’s pillars Hierarchy of wisdom and folly: The child, the woman, the man.
She stumbled She fell She got up and she walked. She stumbled she fell She got up And she walked. She stumbled She fell And she stayed there.
Birch, Your bark once white Is now black From all the things we can’t take back. You’ve shivered in the wind But now you burn because we’ve sinned Your shade may be no longer,
Winding their way through the foundation Digging deeper everyday Hate is the roots of a tree Some shown above the surface Not always noticed Causing entanglements, Tripping and falling
If I were a tree, I would want to grow, tall, and round green and brown. I would stretch my branches wide, so that children, in them, would hide. And when my time to go was near, I would never shed a tear.
How does one person so easily sway my thoughts like wind, tossing the branches of a tree or maybe the sun, casting watery shadows on the ground through my leaves Maybe he's the life-giving water that I draw through my roots
When you look at a tree, With its monstrous trunk And shining emerald leaves, You see only a tree.
There's nothing much I want to say, but I'll pour my heart out to you anyway. All I can think is no more talking. Only out of faith, we gotta keep walking. Never spoke a word to you before now,