The tree that shades the kids. The kids in the park. With the sunlight over their lives. if not eternal, then what is? If light is not forever, then what is life? but a big willow that we cant stop playing under.
Amanda Ruge
willowy bodies bend with grace
skin gliding over joints muscles bone
lean mean sleek
self reliant
excess is excess
The whomping willow from harry potter is a very ancient sacred tree. It has been around for many ages and holds much more than other thinks. I have a willow like this in my backyard. It reveals its secrets to me daily. I
Synthia
willow trees
they remind me of sadness
where is the comfort?
serenity and warmth?
the long, swaying leaves
bring only sorrow and despair
willow drips drooping over sanctified pool. Reflections of waterfalls, pool and call one to swim within. Dreamscapes spreading before inner eyes.
Koan
Willow. Willow Trees. Willow Trees are the most beautiful trees. They’re like beautiful girls that don’t understand how beautiful they truly are. They sit in the corner and weep because of a problem that does not exist.
Kate
Like on Buffy, she became a lesbian and a witch. Or like that tree that Alison and I sat under. I don’t think we had food but we could have had food. But I do remember the way the sun came through the sinewy branches onto her and me and us. And the way that squirrel looked at us.
Like on Buffy, she became a lesbian and a witch. Or like that tree that Alison and I sat under. I don’t think we had food but we could have had food. But I do remember the way the sun came through the sinewy branches onto her and me and us. And the way that squirrel looked at us.
Adam Milner
The tall willow trees blow in the wind, lining the shore of the lake as we walk along it, arm in arm. You turn to me, hair blowing in the strong wind to surround your face in a golden halo. You whisper the fateful words that had been building inside for weeks: “I can’t do this anymore.”
Those five words are as a hammer to my heart.
Sean
what, like the tree or the chick from Buffy? Wait, was she on that show? I can’t remember her name. Allison Hannegan? Something like that. Fuck it, lets talk about the tree. Droopy shits, ain’t they? But cool looking. Actually, they look sad. Damn, now I’m sad.
Doodles
I always think willow trees are the ones where the branches go up, out and down creating a sort of branch and twig dome. I’m not sure if I’m correct in these thoughts, but there was a tree like that at the house of a kid in my elementary school. That tree held infinite potential in it’s shade.
Come to think of it, the kid’s name was Will… and I didn’t like him at all.
willow blowing in the wind
hold your head up & look within
you’re beautiful inside and out
see your beauty as you dance about?
your roots cannot hold you down
even if they’ve been planted firmly in that ground
you’re free to be, free to sing, free to dance in the wind
you’re free, you’re free! lovely, lovely, willow tree.
The leaves of the willow whipped around me as I fell to my knees. I couldn’t believe you were gone. I had been denying this fact for too long now and had almost come to believe that it was true, but this tree–this willow–brought me to the harsh reality. You were gone. You were never coming back.
Makes me feel sad right away. It’s called a Weeping Willow, right? I believe that imagery is frozen in my memory, but the more I let my thoughts wander it comes to the movie Pocahontas. That willow tree represented so much. I wonder what symbols we’d see in everyday life if we just took the time to view the world as it is and not as what we have created it to be.
willow is a willowy word. it’s a cricket word, a tree word and a vampire word. It sounds like wallow – “I’d like to wallow in willow”. Or pillow “I have a willow pillow”.
a tree thats in thr middle of the big forest all by itself actually…alone, with a cold wind blowing through it. i feel like im watching a harlequin romane noelv bad movie that went staright to video. ogh my God…willow is a good one.
cwick
the tree bent over the girl huddled beneath. she sat with her knees to her chest and scribbled in the dusty dirt with her pointer finger. wind gusted through the park and set the leaves to swaying. she glanced around, hoping to discover company… but saw no one.
withen_aych
ahh this brings to the childrens book or movies “wind in the willows” dont rememebr which one but i do remember calling it wind in the willowws everytime someone farted probably the most hilarious thing in the world……. when we were 8
Willow,
you may weep for now.
but just remember,
the sun will come back.
the rain will fall again.
and the dirt will show it’s face
but for now,
recognize what you see,
appreciate and love.
I think of the wind and willows. I can’t even remember what that story was about though. Was it the one with the frogs? Is a willow one of those plants near ponds that look like they have a hot dog sticking out of the end? I loved drawing those as a kid.
Mike O
One warm Sunday afternoon we talked of life, love, and happiness. Ironic, thinking about it now. That old willow tree, every time I pass, brings back so many memories. And now, you’re gone. Away in some town I’ve never even heard of. Here I sit, pen to paper, writing these thoughts. I wonder if you ever think of me. And of the Summers that seemed to never end.
Michelle
It reminds me of a tree, a willow tree that is, or perhaps just a tree, a tree so high, only an airplane can reach the top. If you reach it though, you will fall in love.
I remember that tree as a child. Beautiful and frightening. The long slow walk to branches waving their impending pain. Touching each one, looking for a friend with the words echoing in your head, Go Get a Switch.
A prize, a treasure. I met you once and we whispered to each other about boys and dreams and the way to balance a check and keep things moving and stable. Be still and in motion, isn’t that the goal and the dream and the boy?
mk
Life would be great if I was sitting under a Willow tree and vast defenceless sky. A book in hand or some music or maybe another hand in mine. Just tall grass in sight and the occasional car.
The couple walked hand in hand. It was the ninth of March; Spring was just around the corner, but there was still a hint of winter bluster in the air. bloom. Ed took Nancy’s hand and stopped her by the budding willow tree. He got down on one knee, looked up, deep in her eyes and said, “Nancy? I love you more than life itself and I can’t imagine not having you in my life. Will you–”
“Hold on,” Nancy said, pulling out her iPhone, “I have just *got* to tweet this!”
Willow Martin was his name;
A man with hair all the same.
He bowed and sung songs at night
With a dress filled with fright.
Now, this man was a man like no other
He loved to dance with his brothers.
Not the dancing that was with the feet
but the one between the sheets.
Now you can question his sexuality
But he was a man with all sense of morality.
He wore stunning suits
And pranced around with leather boots.
He combed his hair
And bathed with Cher.
He cried when Blair and Chuck broke up
And drowned his sorrows in a cup.
But don’t forget that he wrote the universe in a night
And created all that was right.
From stars to fears
And men with no ears.
He created thoughts and manners
But forgot to save the enchanters.
He wasn’t a perfect man,
Although he tired to create the perfect plan,
He failed to save his own existence,
Now is just a man far from coexistence.
willow trees, weeping down to the ground, wanting to be among the trail of tears, wrapped in them, hidden in them, escaping from the world and the people hidden in the pain. Living pain, verdant around my entire being.
Kristin
We had a special place. It was up on the hill where the stream turned sharply. On the top was a large and ancient Willow. This was our tree, we sat under it eat there and made love there.
The willow on the hill.
The symbol of our love we shared when apart.. the memory of the tree.. the willow the moment our hearts our tree.
One of these days, Willow, I’m going to walk in and find you. Just like I warned you. You’ll be there among all your sweet “possessions” and it’ll overtake you. You’ll be consumed, not by these “possessions” but what they bring with them. Like a virus that spreads from your nose to your toes.
Oliver
I don’t know what a willow is. I believe it is some type of tree, but I’m not sure. I should go look up the word “willow” on dictionary.com haha. Well that’s all I’ve got, unless you want me to mention that “willow” backwards is “wolliw,” which is not really important.
Joseph Zerrudo
Beautiful and sad at the same time. Long tendrils reaching toasted the earth and branches stretching toward the sky as if it’s caught between two worlds, the willow cannot decide. Beauty in sadness.
Katriana
The weeping willow’s branches brushed the grassy front lawn gently in the summer breeze. I felt pity for the tree, the tree that never ceased crying. Did it never feel happiness?
The branches of the willow tree danced in the evening breeze like children in ballet class – haphazardly and without any true beauty. The tree was old, there was no other way to say it. It’s age bended it’s spine like the inhabitants of a nursing home live with everyday.
Why do we always think of the willow as a sad tree? Is it because its thin branches and plethora of leaves cause it to droop, sad and depressed? Is it because its name is composed of only soft, feminine sounds?
Perhaps we shouldn’t worry about it, and just stop anthropomorphizing everything we come across.
The willow tree in the front yard has never been the same since the UFO crashed on top of it. The blue skinned aliens said the were sorry and gave us a holographic entertainment cube. They were such nice guys to bad they’re in a lab some where being poked at.
Willow was my grandmother’s name. She used to sleep with her head under the covers. I always wondered about her. I wondered what was under there. Where there was. I knew she was an escapist, because I saw the distant glaze in her eyes when she would slip off into worlds unknown to you or I. I miss my grandmother. My biggest regret is never learning her secret passage to the other world.
willow
brooks
springs
beautiful things
the weeping willow
i always wanted a weeping willow as a child
i believed that they would be the best trees for making tree forts
built in curtains included
can’t beat that
The tree that shades the kids. The kids in the park. With the sunlight over their lives. if not eternal, then what is? If light is not forever, then what is life? but a big willow that we cant stop playing under.
willowy bodies bend with grace
skin gliding over joints muscles bone
lean mean sleek
self reliant
excess is excess
The whomping willow from harry potter is a very ancient sacred tree. It has been around for many ages and holds much more than other thinks. I have a willow like this in my backyard. It reveals its secrets to me daily. I
willow trees
they remind me of sadness
where is the comfort?
serenity and warmth?
the long, swaying leaves
bring only sorrow and despair
willow drips drooping over sanctified pool. Reflections of waterfalls, pool and call one to swim within. Dreamscapes spreading before inner eyes.
Willow. Willow Trees. Willow Trees are the most beautiful trees. They’re like beautiful girls that don’t understand how beautiful they truly are. They sit in the corner and weep because of a problem that does not exist.
Like on Buffy, she became a lesbian and a witch. Or like that tree that Alison and I sat under. I don’t think we had food but we could have had food. But I do remember the way the sun came through the sinewy branches onto her and me and us. And the way that squirrel looked at us.
Like on Buffy, she became a lesbian and a witch. Or like that tree that Alison and I sat under. I don’t think we had food but we could have had food. But I do remember the way the sun came through the sinewy branches onto her and me and us. And the way that squirrel looked at us.
The tall willow trees blow in the wind, lining the shore of the lake as we walk along it, arm in arm. You turn to me, hair blowing in the strong wind to surround your face in a golden halo. You whisper the fateful words that had been building inside for weeks: “I can’t do this anymore.”
Those five words are as a hammer to my heart.
what, like the tree or the chick from Buffy? Wait, was she on that show? I can’t remember her name. Allison Hannegan? Something like that. Fuck it, lets talk about the tree. Droopy shits, ain’t they? But cool looking. Actually, they look sad. Damn, now I’m sad.
I always think willow trees are the ones where the branches go up, out and down creating a sort of branch and twig dome. I’m not sure if I’m correct in these thoughts, but there was a tree like that at the house of a kid in my elementary school. That tree held infinite potential in it’s shade.
Come to think of it, the kid’s name was Will… and I didn’t like him at all.
willow blowing in the wind
hold your head up & look within
you’re beautiful inside and out
see your beauty as you dance about?
your roots cannot hold you down
even if they’ve been planted firmly in that ground
you’re free to be, free to sing, free to dance in the wind
you’re free, you’re free! lovely, lovely, willow tree.
The leaves of the willow whipped around me as I fell to my knees. I couldn’t believe you were gone. I had been denying this fact for too long now and had almost come to believe that it was true, but this tree–this willow–brought me to the harsh reality. You were gone. You were never coming back.
Makes me feel sad right away. It’s called a Weeping Willow, right? I believe that imagery is frozen in my memory, but the more I let my thoughts wander it comes to the movie Pocahontas. That willow tree represented so much. I wonder what symbols we’d see in everyday life if we just took the time to view the world as it is and not as what we have created it to be.
willow is a willowy word. it’s a cricket word, a tree word and a vampire word. It sounds like wallow – “I’d like to wallow in willow”. Or pillow “I have a willow pillow”.
mother.
protection.
love.
Pocahontas.
old.
deeply rooted.
affection.
wisdom.
lake.
park.
hugs.
the giving tree.
age.
youth.
love.
a tree thats in thr middle of the big forest all by itself actually…alone, with a cold wind blowing through it. i feel like im watching a harlequin romane noelv bad movie that went staright to video. ogh my God…willow is a good one.
the tree bent over the girl huddled beneath. she sat with her knees to her chest and scribbled in the dusty dirt with her pointer finger. wind gusted through the park and set the leaves to swaying. she glanced around, hoping to discover company… but saw no one.
ahh this brings to the childrens book or movies “wind in the willows” dont rememebr which one but i do remember calling it wind in the willowws everytime someone farted probably the most hilarious thing in the world……. when we were 8
Willow,
you may weep for now.
but just remember,
the sun will come back.
the rain will fall again.
and the dirt will show it’s face
but for now,
recognize what you see,
appreciate and love.
I think of the wind and willows. I can’t even remember what that story was about though. Was it the one with the frogs? Is a willow one of those plants near ponds that look like they have a hot dog sticking out of the end? I loved drawing those as a kid.
One warm Sunday afternoon we talked of life, love, and happiness. Ironic, thinking about it now. That old willow tree, every time I pass, brings back so many memories. And now, you’re gone. Away in some town I’ve never even heard of. Here I sit, pen to paper, writing these thoughts. I wonder if you ever think of me. And of the Summers that seemed to never end.
It reminds me of a tree, a willow tree that is, or perhaps just a tree, a tree so high, only an airplane can reach the top. If you reach it though, you will fall in love.
Crept down under the willow tree,
Hid away so the world couldn’t see.
I cried my tears on the roots of that tree,
giving it life from the pain in me.
I remember that tree as a child. Beautiful and frightening. The long slow walk to branches waving their impending pain. Touching each one, looking for a friend with the words echoing in your head, Go Get a Switch.
A prize, a treasure. I met you once and we whispered to each other about boys and dreams and the way to balance a check and keep things moving and stable. Be still and in motion, isn’t that the goal and the dream and the boy?
Life would be great if I was sitting under a Willow tree and vast defenceless sky. A book in hand or some music or maybe another hand in mine. Just tall grass in sight and the occasional car.
The couple walked hand in hand. It was the ninth of March; Spring was just around the corner, but there was still a hint of winter bluster in the air. bloom. Ed took Nancy’s hand and stopped her by the budding willow tree. He got down on one knee, looked up, deep in her eyes and said, “Nancy? I love you more than life itself and I can’t imagine not having you in my life. Will you–”
“Hold on,” Nancy said, pulling out her iPhone, “I have just *got* to tweet this!”
WILLOW MARTIN
Willow Martin was his name;
A man with hair all the same.
He bowed and sung songs at night
With a dress filled with fright.
Now, this man was a man like no other
He loved to dance with his brothers.
Not the dancing that was with the feet
but the one between the sheets.
Now you can question his sexuality
But he was a man with all sense of morality.
He wore stunning suits
And pranced around with leather boots.
He combed his hair
And bathed with Cher.
He cried when Blair and Chuck broke up
And drowned his sorrows in a cup.
But don’t forget that he wrote the universe in a night
And created all that was right.
From stars to fears
And men with no ears.
He created thoughts and manners
But forgot to save the enchanters.
He wasn’t a perfect man,
Although he tired to create the perfect plan,
He failed to save his own existence,
Now is just a man far from coexistence.
willow trees, weeping down to the ground, wanting to be among the trail of tears, wrapped in them, hidden in them, escaping from the world and the people hidden in the pain. Living pain, verdant around my entire being.
We had a special place. It was up on the hill where the stream turned sharply. On the top was a large and ancient Willow. This was our tree, we sat under it eat there and made love there.
The willow on the hill.
The symbol of our love we shared when apart.. the memory of the tree.. the willow the moment our hearts our tree.
One of these days, Willow, I’m going to walk in and find you. Just like I warned you. You’ll be there among all your sweet “possessions” and it’ll overtake you. You’ll be consumed, not by these “possessions” but what they bring with them. Like a virus that spreads from your nose to your toes.
I don’t know what a willow is. I believe it is some type of tree, but I’m not sure. I should go look up the word “willow” on dictionary.com haha. Well that’s all I’ve got, unless you want me to mention that “willow” backwards is “wolliw,” which is not really important.
Beautiful and sad at the same time. Long tendrils reaching toasted the earth and branches stretching toward the sky as if it’s caught between two worlds, the willow cannot decide. Beauty in sadness.
The weeping willow’s branches brushed the grassy front lawn gently in the summer breeze. I felt pity for the tree, the tree that never ceased crying. Did it never feel happiness?
The branches of the willow tree danced in the evening breeze like children in ballet class – haphazardly and without any true beauty. The tree was old, there was no other way to say it. It’s age bended it’s spine like the inhabitants of a nursing home live with everyday.
Why do we always think of the willow as a sad tree? Is it because its thin branches and plethora of leaves cause it to droop, sad and depressed? Is it because its name is composed of only soft, feminine sounds?
Perhaps we shouldn’t worry about it, and just stop anthropomorphizing everything we come across.
The willow tree in the front yard has never been the same since the UFO crashed on top of it. The blue skinned aliens said the were sorry and gave us a holographic entertainment cube. They were such nice guys to bad they’re in a lab some where being poked at.
Willow was my grandmother’s name. She used to sleep with her head under the covers. I always wondered about her. I wondered what was under there. Where there was. I knew she was an escapist, because I saw the distant glaze in her eyes when she would slip off into worlds unknown to you or I. I miss my grandmother. My biggest regret is never learning her secret passage to the other world.
willow
brooks
springs
beautiful things
the weeping willow
i always wanted a weeping willow as a child
i believed that they would be the best trees for making tree forts
built in curtains included
can’t beat that