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Week 242 (December 22-29). Poems. Topic: Under the Tree.
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You're welcome, Al. And whoa, what a stunning poem. Beautiful stuff!
Here is my poetry submission for the topic: Under the Tree. Feedback is ALWAYS welcome!
Hand in Hand by Melissa Andres
The cross was made of wood
From a fallen tree
And a special man
Hanged there just for me.
I, of course, was not there
On that fateful day
He became my Savior
The ultimate price He'd pay.
But what if I had watched?
Had stood under that tree?
Would I have cried and screamed?
Or maybe hit my knees?
Could I have stopped the scene?
Would I have even tried?
Could I have known ...
Jesus was meant to die?
Tell others it's not just gifts
Christians, take a stand
Imagine being under the tree
Hand in hand in hand ...
Hand in Hand by Melissa Andres
The cross was made of wood
From a fallen tree
And a special man
Hanged there just for me.
I, of course, was not there
On that fateful day
He became my Savior
The ultimate price He'd pay.
But what if I had watched?
Had stood under that tree?
Would I have cried and screamed?
Or maybe hit my knees?
Could I have stopped the scene?
Would I have even tried?
Could I have known ...
Jesus was meant to die?
Tell others it's not just gifts
Christians, take a stand
Imagine being under the tree
Hand in hand in hand ...
Welcome back, Melissa! I've missed reading your entries. What a great take on the topic. This is a beautifully-written poem that gets right to the heart of things. Very well done. Have a wonderful Christmas :)
Excellent Melissa! It's very easy for poetry in that vain (both the topic and style you've chosen) to come off as cheesy or over the top, but you managed to completely avoid that!Al, great images in there :)
Ryan and Kristen - Thank you both very much! I am glad to be back! I have written a story too and am just about to post that! Thank you for your kind words! :)
This is several haikus.TREES OF WINTER
Pines sway in the cold breeze
Children play under
The colorful lights
A box of green paper
Tied with a bow
Your present
Under the maples
Next to a snowman
A kissing couple
Falling down the chimney
Pulling out toys
Santa Claus
This is my second postIm a hack and feedback welcome.
Under the tree A Soldier
My neighbor Claude,
at his own pace
and
maniacal times.
Understood only by
him.
Calmly walks outside,
looks to the
infinity heavens,
unblinking,
and howls.
Not the lonely
sleeping dusty dessert
howl,
of hungry coyote.
No,
something
desperately
more tragic.
This howl,
of my neighbor
Claude.
A howl violently ripped
from a human being
Who's
boundaries are closing in,
and squeezing.
Pushed.
Limits, unclear,
unchallenged.
Talents callously denied,
overlooked,
betrayed, of course,
then squandered.
Of course.
Misconstrued glances,
freshman hesitation.
A blink of an eye,
gone
to
never
have
back,
only the regret
remains.
I listen sometimes,
while Claude
howls.
The opera of
a man,desperately
trying to remain
intact.
An unfortunate respite,
between my battles
with the booze,
and dope, inevitable
madness.
The nightmares are scorched
into the terribly tender
unguarded places.
Held hostage
by a war fought
so very far
away.
A naked youth
sacrificed,
long ago.
The best of me
dead, and
by my hand,
all thats beautiful
is broken,
shattered.
All thats cherished,
Inevitably
pushed away.
love eternal,abandoned,
the remains
flee,
wounded, under fire,
limping to cover.
Raw wounds
to be
licked,
but never healed.
In the desperate
silence,
a boy's memory
of a faded red cabin.
Crooked porch,
tilted.
The constant
dull ache,
yearning
to be
embraced,
by childhoods
rolling,
Blue Ridge mountains.
Try so hard,
to come
home.
The boy
gone for so long,
so tired.
To just lay
under the tree.
Your ashes spread
there,
by your sons'
hands.
Yours even.
The boy lays down,
wind in the pines.
You speak
to him.
The TreeUnder the tree, where
Lovers love and bond
Children play and laugh
Thinkers drown in their
Very reverie
Under this tree, where
Old friends meet and
New friends are made
And as the leaves fall
In autumn, and cold stiff branches
On the winter and warm cherries
Blossom on the spring and greens
On the summer
It still stands tall, a haven for
People when rain fall down
Or when the heat is to much
Its flowers adorn the town
This tree, under it
Is a place to meet and
A place to split
Please comment and i'd appreciate your critics since I'm a beginner :)
The TreeUnder the tree, where
Lovers love and bond
Children play and laugh
Thinkers drown in their
Very reverie
Under this tree, where
Old friends meet and
New friends are made
And as the leaves fall
In autumn, and cold stiff branches
On the winter and warm cherries
Blossom on the spring and greens
On the summer
It still stands tall, a haven for
People when rain fall down
Or when the heat is to much
Its flowers adorn the town
This tree, under it
Is a place to meet and
A place to split
Please comment and i'd appreciate your critics since I'm a beginner :)
Mapayapang Pasko! (sorry, a day late)translation: Have a Peaceful Christmas!
The Unspoken ChildMy mother never spoke of him,
my brother who wasn't born
with the right number of limbs
or everything that was supposed to be
under skin. So my sisters made a stew
of what we didn't know.
His eyes were coins struck
with father's hammer. Engine grease
oozed from his forehead
which reeked of overripe guava.
He had no lips,
but he could mumble
my name: “Mmm-mm!”
“Mmm-mm!” And I would know
he was calling out “Jimboy! Jimboy!”
It was lonely
under the shade
of the mango tree
despite the coming
and going of ants.
-o-
can't remember if i've posted this one here before. in any case, hope to get some feedback from you guys.
Christmas Reality Check by NicoleGet up! Get up! Ahhh! It’s Christmas
The loud shout awoke them all!
Sixty-two children sprung up at
Mayberry Orphanage Hall.
The squeals the laughter and the joy
Deafening beyond compare
No child could be calmed or settled
Christmas came but once a year
Their tiny feet moved so quickly
Dashing, racing to the tree
There was but one thing on their minds
What has Santa brought for me?
The tree stood tall with dancing lights
Blinking to every beat
Bows, candy canes and one star
Made the Christmas tree complete
But like magic the smiles vanished
Replaced by a saddened stare
For while the Christmas tree shone bright
At the bottom you see was bare
No gifts donated this year, not one
Can you believe it?! Not me!!
I have to ask…..I wonder
How much was under your tree?
Finer Sans Jars-Pots-NomenclaturesThe grizzly, moving
fur mountain with a wobbly
belly is clueless
about the nuances of fine dining.
It stands tall,
belly against trunk,
its bigfoot against wet earth,
jostling against a lean fruit-
bearer, one that could dislodge
any moment from the barely legible
root clusters holding it,
the way claws sink into and tear
a nugget of flesh built to stretch.
The salmon beached in the sap
above still wouldn't fudge,
doomed to be glued
until a beast with feathers
hijacks it in mid-flight.
Not long before a cub would nuzzle
against the giant's knees. The river
is rising the way mercury does
inside a burette. A furlong separates
the father-cub duo from an orchid
upriver, which is shivering not
because of the wind's bipolar
tendencies but due to the prospect
of getting tramped down by a foot
inside a boot or a hand plucking it
out of its joint and getting
reduced to the confines
of a jar, pot or nomenclature.
-Ajay
This is the first piece I am posting on here. Please enjoy and feedback is definitely welcome!Under the Tree:
The branches create
twisted, drunken shadows
on our arms and legs,
Revealing our veins
to each other,
spindly black crawling things,
mysteries not spoken of.
I stroke his arms
and they remind me of
bruised fruit;
wounds that are forbidden,
similar to the peach
that lays just before
our naked toes.
It is weeping,
seeping gold
into the dirt,
giving birth
to a plant not yet
known.
It's name
is Misunderstood,
and it smells
like rain which penetrates
Earth
but is always
followed by something
bright blue
and forgotten.
Adam, what have we created?
-Tiara
The TreeSilvery leaves shimmering in the breeze
Come look at me
Some will fall in a gentle wind
Scattered and lost upon the land
See all the branches spreading to the hills
Climbing to the sky and the pale moon above
Hiding below are roots that search
Long and sturdy piercing the earth
Do you see
I am the tree of life
Come, stand under me
-Frances-
Just a little something to sing to Jingle Bells and maybe bring a smile. Enjoy!Title: Christmas Life
Dashing through the stores
Like a bandit run amuck
I fly from aisle to aisle
Trusting to blind luck.
The just-right gifts to buy
For each and every one,
Then finding time to wrap
They say that this is fun?
I can't forget the tree
A fresh fine fir they want;
Now tied atop the car
It's sagging down in front, grrr!
Refrain:
Christmas time, Christmas time
Presents 'neath the tree
Oh what fun it is to shop
My credit card's maxed out!
Johnny wants a car
Judy wants a barre
Hubby takes a nip
I just want a nap.
Grandma drops the cake
Bro’s out on parole
Sis won’t lift a hand
When will they go home?
Refrain:
Christmas time, Christmas time
Presents ‘neath the tree
Oh, what fun it is to spend
The time with family!
:)
The Cat SleptGuy Duperreault
Snow thick and heavy covered the ancient conifer.
It was another harsh winter.
Beneath the tree the air was cold and the blanket of needles dry.
The wild cat’s breath puffed visibly into the air as it slept,
Its thick coat warm.
hello. i'm new here. this is my first participant. Title : Little Princess And A Pauper.
Little princess saw him
at the age of three.
Such a whimp people called him
Under the willows tree.
Little pauper cried out loud,
Envy he is because his life had no such fancy.
By the sudden there a shout,
From afar came a princess who offer him a candy.
Year by year
Flowers under the willow looks alike.
The princess and the pauper develop a feelings.
Year by year
Human are never the same.
From an aquantainces to friends and finally lovers.
By Ask Bug
Thanks guys.
For Tiara: I really like this poem. It´s original, and beautifully written.
To everyone here, new and old, thank you for submitting your poems. This is an excellent collection! I hope to find the time to comment on all individually. Happy New Year!
Catha Yvette Under The Red Cedar Tree 2014 copywrite
Miss - our - I - somewhere:
(My family's name for me)
there grows a red cedar tree.
We live in Eu less
on Red Cedar Street. Brownsville,
Texas. A sere place
to young poets fare.
My name is Victoria
Royal Oak Greensward
in Columbia
Well, there is red cedar there.
Maybe I there go-
to say a prayer
and dream of the tall grasses
of Konza, Kansas.
Family konz-ya
with a tact - solitary
out of the haptic
peeling of hard strips.
My young wood already rusts.
I am Tantalus
under the branches
looking for meaningful fruit
that the birds can reach
but I cannot touch.
Because the name in my chest
a heart to the rest -
Seeking her, myself
Comes to the red cedar fences
where a fowl chicken
like Victoria
curses to bless the fire
that controls cerise
family apple
fumes that spike my here
like an art until,
winters when I laugh
at the cold one can endure.
the splinters in Am-
for an Amphion
perhaps who charmed stones, a wall.
A sered poet sings
my name, my all.
750 years -
in Miss our I, tall.
in Eu less, I stall
leafing through family trees
under seasons'
stationed at roadsides
waiting to uncover me
- from a dynasty.
Catherine Niedzwiecka
c.niedzwiecka@aol.com
Miss - our - I - somewhere:
(My family's name for me)
there grows a red cedar tree.
We live in Eu less
on Red Cedar Street. Brownsville,
Texas. A sere place
to young poets fare.
My name is Victoria
Royal Oak Greensward
in Columbia
Well, there is red cedar there.
Maybe I there go-
to say a prayer
and dream of the tall grasses
of Konza, Kansas.
Family konz-ya
with a tact - solitary
out of the haptic
peeling of hard strips.
My young wood already rusts.
I am Tantalus
under the branches
looking for meaningful fruit
that the birds can reach
but I cannot touch.
Because the name in my chest
a heart to the rest -
Seeking her, myself
Comes to the red cedar fences
where a fowl chicken
like Victoria
curses to bless the fire
that controls cerise
family apple
fumes that spike my here
like an art until,
winters when I laugh
at the cold one can endure.
the splinters in Am-
for an Amphion
perhaps who charmed stones, a wall.
A sered poet sings
my name, my all.
750 years -
in Miss our I, tall.
in Eu less, I stall
leafing through family trees
under seasons'
stationed at roadsides
waiting to uncover me
- from a dynasty.
Catherine Niedzwiecka
c.niedzwiecka@aol.com
Please post directly into the topic and not a link. Please don’t use a poem previously used in this group.
Your poem can be any length.
This week’s topic is: Under the Tree. It can be Christmas related or something else entirely - you choose.
The rules are pretty loose. You can write a poem about anything that has to do with the topic. I do not care, but the poem you post must relate to the topic somehow.
Have fun!