Oh
Sister Willow
Your branches
Spread out wide
Like a giant umbrella.
Handling
The stresses of life.
Unlike your brothers
Maple Oak and Elm
Tall stately trees.
Towering
Into the skyline
With majestic
Rigid branches.
This year's heavy snowfall
Crippled many stately crowns
Unable to handle the burden.
While
The ugly sister survives
On tiny slender branches.
But
Beauty is
In the eye
Of the beholder.
Better
To be flexible
Then dead.
From stress
And diseases.
Swaying
Beneath summer's
Hot breath.Therisa © 2012
Author's note: From my poetic vault. Only changed the arrangement of some stanzas and words, for spelling corrections.
33 comments:
better to adapt of course, still staying true to your own self. nice analogy.
Each tree has their own allure. I quite like the whispering Aspens who seem to talk to you! Glad you dug this out the vault Therisa.
Thank you, Thotpurge, wrote this poem, while riding the local bus, to the subway station, on my way, to an appointment, back then.
Love the tender wistfulness in your lines, Therisa :)
Thank you, Sanaa, lots of trees were damaged, it took until almost July, before all of the broken branches were cleared up.
So very true, Robin, although, I have little patience, for the Sumac trees, and it's ability to shelter mosquitoes. Darn weed tree.
Luv the fact that you contemplate nature to this extent. Yes there certainly is personality in those trees.
Here in Trinidad. I Luv when the Yellow Poui, bust out in their golden splendor. Shouting (I really feel that I can hear them) its Easter Time.
Happy you dropped by my Sunday Standard today at my blog.
Much love...
aw...more power to the slender branches...love this...
Ah, better to be flexible than dead....definitely important to keep this in mind. Somehow we have to find a way to survive.
I always thought willows were quite pretty.
Oh please do go into your vault more often. This is lovely to read!
This reminds me of the saying that a geisha should have the strength of willow... bending but never breaking... yes that is beauty...
Nice crisp writing Therisa - you capture the essence of things here...
Oh there is such a good message here - better to survive than be dead, any old day. Smiles. We survivors have our wrinkles, but we're still here!Gloriously so. I loved this one, Therisa.
Thank you, Bev, for your kind words. Have about 2400 more poems, in my poetic vault. Not all of them, do I feel comfortable sharing, for various reasons.
I love the message here and the way that we can find strength and beauty by looking for deeper truths in nature. Lovely, Therisa :-)
Thank you, Gillena, and your welcome. There are some days, which my writing reaches that next level, as this poem shows.
I find that ability to survive most beautiful!
Thank you, Sumana, am trying to myself, so I can be like the willow, able to bend, without breaking.
The right way, which allows, to heal us, while flowing with the punches that life brings to us, at times. Wonder, if President Trump has anyone to remind him, of this, instead of the "yes" men and women, who surround him. For I see him, as one of the damaged maples, from my poem.
Thank you, Rommy, to me, the willow is, a tree, in constant mourning. I know, this won't make sense to many people, but then again, I see life differently, from others.
Thank you, Bjorn, have never heard of that saying, about geisha and willows, before. Interesting, I and that saying, have identify, the willow, as female.
Thank you, Scott.
Thank you, Sherry.
I love it (though I am largely unacquainted with snowfalls). Beautiful literally and metaphorically.
In case you missed my answer to your comment on mine, I appreciate your reading, but please feel free to ignore my more formal efforts in future. I won't be offended, now that you have explained. (I don't want to torture anyone through poetry!)
So nicely and poetically stated, to survive we must bend a little. Good writing!
Thank you, Rosemary, consider yourself, lucky. Toronto is suppose to get 15=25 cm, in the next 48 hours, of dry powder snow. Sometimes, during snowstorms get freezing rain or icy pellets, mixed that result in black outs, from downed power lines, what happened, in December 2013, when I went 40 hours, without any electricity, in my apartment. It was made worse, by the outside temperatures, being well below 0 C, just before Christmas, too.
Will try to read your more formal works, Rosemary, and respond, when possible.
Wow, I do count myself lucky. I hate the cold!
Thank you, C.C, for your gracious words. Looking back, at this poem, now, think I was sadden, by the senseless loss of these trees, to me.
Thank you, Susan, at that time, I was struggling, with my mental health, with my semi-annual bout of depression.
Same here. Much prefer, the seasons of Spring/Fall, before the extreme weather of Summer/Winter intruded.
Thank you, Myrna, often, am filled with doubts, where my poems are worthy, to be shared, with others.
I love the willow trees, so pretty on my bike rides. Beautifully put.
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