The Language Of The Trees
by Londis Carpenter
Saturday, August 09, 2003
Not rated by the Author.
Print Save Become a Fan
(Reposted from archive---This is the title poem of my new book which shoulf be released in the summer of 2004)
The Language Of The Trees
by Londis Carpenter
Do you think a tree has memories? If so, what might they be?
Beneath their spreading limbs do they recall things done by me?
Do they hear conversations, understand the things we say?
Do they remember secrets whispered, Or the games I used to play?
When I climb up in their branches do trees know I am there?
When I carve initials in their bark does it hurt or do they care?
When birds come and build their nests of maiden grass and weeds,
When I build a sturdy tree house filled with all the things boys need,
I just can't help but wonder If a tree knows what we've done,
If so, what is it thinking? is it also having fun?
A tree seems like a friend to me who watches all I do.
But never seems to judge me while I try to work it through.
It watches the mistakes I make like they are just a game.
Its silence waits for me to win, learn who I really am.
Its branches make a home for all, the insect, bird and frog,
Which shelter in its citadel that towers in the bog.
To the Oak tree in the meadow I once ran off and hid.
Did it hear me cry my heart out? Did it wonder what I did?
And when I stayed all night there did my tears all go unheard?
Was it shocked, did it get angry, when it heard my first bad word?
Will trees keep all our secrets if they recall what we do?
Or will they shout out to the wind I once carved, "I love you?"
I think the trees are speaking when they rattle in the breeze.
I think I almost understand the language of the trees.
Each leaf is a page in a book, a story to be told,
Which falls to earth at autumns end to sleep through winters cold.
And all their secret stories written, in gold and browns,
Make up our dreams on winter nights, when Sandman makes his rounds.
So if a tree does carry memories of the unseen life we live
And if it will keep our secrets. . . can a tree also forgive?
Man Of Asgard
Want to review or comment on this
Click here to login!
Need a FREE Reader Membership?
Click here for your Membership!
|Reviewed by J MC
|Prolific write !! MC|
|Reviewed by Barbara Terry
|You know what Lon? I actually think the trees do have a language all of their own. If we could only pick up the vibrations, we could hear what they say to each other. This is a sweet poem of imagination, and remeberance of what was done beneath 'the ole oak tree'. Thank you, Lon, for sharing this part of your life and mind.
May the Lord Jesus bless you, and those whom you love, and be with you always, and at your side constantly. With much love in my heart, joy to the world, peace on earth, & ((((((((((MANY WONDERFUL SISTERLY HUGGGGSSSS)))))))))), your sister, Barbie
|Reviewed by Laurel Johnson
|Lovely Imaginative poem, Lonny. True to your form.
I loved your first poetry book and am glad you are
planning a second.
|Reviewed by Jaclynn Huntington
|I loved this! Growing up near the forrest and listening to my father teaching us respect for nature. This brought back wondrous memories.
|Reviewed by Kay P Devenish
|Well I am so happy I stopped by to read this one before hopping into bed tonight it will help me dream.
This is such a beautiful poem.
I have often wondered the same thing myself about trees,I do think they know everything that's going on,I think they have feelings.
I can think of one tree that was forgiving.
|Reviewed by Katy Walsvik
|Lonny.. I usually don't read comments until I've made mine but I noticed my dear Erin and read.. Her emotional response matched not only mine but echoed the sensitivity and deeply moving innocence of your own voice in this piece. A lifelong lover of nature, a communer of living things, I found that your poem relieved a kind of stress that I hadn't been able to identify: that which comes from taking what breathes all around me for granted. How very fitting this is as the 'doorway' to your writing.. to your heart. You are a marvelous thinker, imaginer and person. I'm feeling very lucky to call you my friend. katy. xox.|
|Reviewed by Elizabeth Taylor (Reader)
|Beautiful work. Congratulations on the new book !!!|
|Reviewed by Erin Kelly-Moen
|:) This is beautiful, Londis! You've covered so many things I've wondered. I love trees. When we had that huge fire last year here, in Arizona, the pictures they showed just shrieked with blazing, leaping, excruciating tree-pain, the screaming was so resoundingly silent, yet monstrous, I wept. Mini-worlds were destroyed in those over 300,000 acres, many worlds, where trees ruled compassionately and stoically, for decades. And, so, Trees. Our earthy companions. A fitting tribute poem to your book, congratulations!! :)|
|Reviewed by Trixie Love
What a fabulous write...
Enjoyed this very much...
|Reviewed by Tinka Boukes
|Oh londis this goes deep my man..this is really deep....if only we could get that answer....i would tell my tree to gossip into the right ear!!
This one will be saved!!
|Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner
i adore this write
the trees in north texas are celebrating, because it FINALLY RAINED and it's only 79 degrees out there :)
(((HUGS))) and thanks for writing this delightful poem!
|Reviewed by John Bidwell
|Wonderful writing as always.
I appreciate trees. :)