Poem of the Day

2 Comments

How Trees Grow

 

First, they listen to the wind’s ideas

and take notes.

They suck nutriment from the soil

but never forget their manners.

They bathe regularly in rain

and soak their feet in special solutions.

Measuring distances from star to star

they dream of universal travels.

Also, they touch each other kindly

and play host to thousands of guests.

 

Jennie Fraine

Jenny said: This poem was published in 1993 in a booklet I prepared and printed myself, to share with children as I spoke to them in schools about the mystery and magic, the pure possibility, of poetry. The poems had originally been written for other children, in response to their requests for a poem on a topic they liked. I had created a business called Poetic Licence and apart from lots of work in schools (via three agents) I also worked at festivals as a roving performer (writing on the spot about anything suggested by those I accosted) at literacy camps, on tour along the Murray River, in country towns and suburbs in Victoria, at writers festivals for children, at Georges and David Jones for special occasions, and at private celebrations, and at schools and the fringe festival in the Kimberleys.

Poem of the Day

3 Comments

Family tree

by Bill Condon

 

The mother was a ghost gum,

a really terrific tree-mum.

The father was a noble oak,

a shining prince of tree-dom.

You’d think with a family tree like that,

the offshoot would have to be a winner.

Instead he was a toothpick,

who lived in fear of dinner.

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #2

Prompt2

 

Bill says: I wrote this years ago when I was very silly. Nothing’s changed.

 

Poem of the Day

2 Comments

T for Tree

by Virginia Lowe

 

Straight trunk

Typical tree

Outstretched arms

Thick canopy

Leaves trap the sun

brilliant green

Dark brown trunk

A child’s drawing

 

Burnished silver

Polished gum

Dead, but shining

in the morning sun

Froth of regrowth

at its roots

Towers a silver

toasting fork

Branches curve tortuous

weaving and gliding

starting way up

the tall straight trunk

the architecture

fully exposed.

 

Architecture exposed,

even living.

Dull eucalypt green

Narrow leaves

loosely bunched

hang down to escape

the sun’s rays

Trunk bright pink-gold

Burnished by

morning sun

 

Huge animals

that hopped

Egg-laying mammals

with duck bills

The first Europeans

couldn’t believe

their own eyes

Painted what

they longed to see

Dark trunk

outstretched branches

thick canopy

typical (Northern) tree

starting with T.

 

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #2

Prompt2

Virginia says: I spent the first weeks of January in the mountains, Falls Creek (about 40 friends took over a ski lodge). Falls Creek was in the middle of a bushfire about 12 years ago, and is surrounded by bleached white dead trees – sad, but beautiful – and regrowing. I had several phrases in my mind, and the letter T sparked off contemplation about the comparison between Northern and Southern Hemisphere trees, and reactions to them.  It is my usual blank verse, short lines, with some half rhymes thrown in.