#NationalTreeWeek 2. I will feature your published/unpublished poetry/short prose/artworks about trees. Please include a short third person bio.

tree in snow by Anjum wasim dar

Tree in Snow

We grow as Nature ordains
never complain and bear the pains
from black to grey, green to brown
one by one we fall to the ground
Our duty done with full obedience
spreading freshness and fragrance
with peaceful quietude we surrender
making space for others in elegance.
This is The Truth This is The Call
This is The Providence of The Fall
Be it Oak, Pine Fir or Kowhai
Sown ‘n Grown, This is The Final Cry’.

-Anjum Wasim Dar

tree diagram

Tree Law

-Jennifer Roche

If we were trees
(after Tom Weir’s “Glass”)

Some of us were profligate, we were sycamore, we bolted,
trampled gardens. We were full of sap. We were headlong.
some of us were yew that puts down roots in graveyard loam
and closes up the mouths of the dead
some of us were holly, glossy, sharp and bitter We were all unkind
some of us were silver birch, we went everywhere like witchlight,
asked nothing of the ground; we could live on air;
we drank light. We danced
some of us were oak, and some of us grew straight as the mast
of a good ship, and some grew stunted, rooted among lichens,
and there was gold in our grain
some of us were old from birth, all wire and sinew,
we were hawthorns, our spines wicked against the browsing tongues of beasts
some of us were evergreen, fast growing pine, lush spruce,
lined up for the saw, the axe, how easily we split
all of us knew what all trees know, which is the art
of letting go. Every year we practice dying
because every one of us will burn. One way or another

-John Foggin

I choose.

A big old strong tree, gnarled
like an olive and full of owls –
Loll on in its generous shade
inhaling that uniquely exotic fragrance;
the power to command every quote and
epigram carried by the bees,
ivy-league messengers sweetly laden
with the harmony of the spheres.

-Jane Newberry

Be that tree,

standing strong, in all conditions.
Growing and stretching
arms towards the sky
completely free, still,
grounded deep in the past.
– Omar Kay

Love grows like a tree;
you never see it happen
but we have blossom.

-Lawrence Moore

I wrote about you on a maple leaf.
Pushed for space, my words were brief.
They blew away with a sudden gust
and will turn to compost,
just like us.
-Lawrence Moore


Mountain ash: I banish witches,
Grace hillsides, straddle ditches,
Greet spring, green as grasses,
Hold court as summer passes.

Red as winter cheeks, my berries
Pucker your mouth, like sour cherries.
Jelly rich in C and A
Wakens taste, keeps colds at bay.

Autumn’s gift gives winter savour,
To lend meat a piquant flavour.
I hold fast, through squall and blast,
To greet the living sun at last.

Bride of storm, the lightning flash:
Red-crowned rowan, mountain ash.

-Yvonne Marjot

Lament for Lemon Trees

I hate to slice a lemon
and cut through a pip

that’s green inside.
It’s like cracking an egg

and finding the foetus
of a chicken. But the seed

would have sprouted,
the chick would not.

I think of the tree
I could have grown

like those that touched the ceiling
at Elmfield Gardens,

had to be left behind,
too tall for the new house.

-Peter J. Donnelly

Bios And Links

John Foggin

lives in West Yorkshire where he writes an occasional poetry blog : the great fogginzo’s cobweb.

He was one of the winners of the Poetry Business Pamphlet Competition [2015]. His latest collection was Dark Watchers [Calder Valley Poetry: 2019]

-Jane Newberry

is a late-emerging poet, after 30 years of motherhood and a career in music education. March 2020 saw the publication of Big Green Crocodile (Otter-Barry Books).

Published by The Emma Press, South Magazine and online, Jane lives in Cornwall.

-Lawrence Moore

has been writing poems – some silly, some serious – since childhood. He lives in Portsmouth, England with his husband Matt and nine mostly well behaved cats. He has poetry published at, among others, DreichPink Plastic HouseFevers of the MindSarasvati and The Madrigal. @LawrenceMooreUK

-Peter J Donnelly

lives in York where he works as a hospital secretary. He has a degree in English Literature and a MA in Creative Writing from the University of Wales Lampeter.

He has been published in various magazines and anthologies, including Writer’s Egg where ‘Survival’ previously appeared.  ‘Peppered Moth’ was included in the Ripon Poetry Festival anthology ‘Seeing Things’. ‘One Day on Dartmoor’ was highly commended in the Barn Owl Trust competition and published in their anthology ‘Wildlife Words’. It was also published online by the National Trust on their Fingle Woods webpage.

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