Treasure Island

Valerie Dohren

(13 January 1947 / Southport)

The Willow Weeps

I sat beneath the Willow tree
And cried in sad lament -
The Willow wept because I wept;
Despaired and discontent

I lay upon the clovered grass
Enwrapped in fresh, sweet air -
The Willow wept, oh how she wept
To see me lying there

Her tears dripped down from branch and leaf
Then touched the moistened ground -
The Willow wept, because I wept
As there I sobbed and frowned

My love, my love has gone away
And never to return -
The Willow wept, oh how she wept;
With me, to ever yearn

She touched my face with gentle sway
Of boughs that bended low -
And then she wept, because I wept;
Why did you have to go?

My love, my love has left me now
And I am so alone -
The Willow wept, oh how she wept;
Then watched me turn to stone

And now the clover ‘round me grows
Beneath the azure sky -
The Willow weeps, because I wept;
Forever here to lie

The sun shall burn upon this stone
Yet cold I’ll always stay -
The Willow weeps, oh how she weeps,
For here I lie today

Submitted: Friday, May 31, 2013
Edited: Friday, May 31, 2013

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  • Colleen Courtney (6/25/2014 6:07:00 PM)

    Another beautifully creative write. I had a Willow tree in my backyard when I was a kid and I remember crying because my parents told me that if us four girls wanted a swimming pool put in then the Willow tree had to the Willow tree went but I'm proud to say I was the only hold out! I just loved lying under that tree so much! Your poem has brought back some cherished memories for me! Thanks for another gorgeous poem! (Report) Reply

  • Sj Holland (6/25/2013 4:29:00 PM)

    Lovely and haunting. The kind of rhyming poetry that I like. My fav stanza:

    I lay upon the clovered grass
    Enwrapped in fresh, sweet air -
    The Willow wept, oh how she wept
    To see me lying there (Report) Reply

  • Walterrean Salley (6/22/2013 8:24:00 PM)

    A sad tone beautifully written and finely set. I thoroughly enjoyed reading. I'm drawn to this composition, and especially feel the spirit of it, for I have written one much akin to it, though I haven't had the opportunity to post it as of yet. Good job Val. (Report) Reply

  • Unwritten Soul (6/19/2013 2:21:00 AM)

    absolutely another beautiful and lovely poem..such a magical dimension you have created lovely! _Soul (Report) Reply

  • Somanathan Iyer (6/16/2013 4:12:00 AM)

    A poet peeps into places where light can not venture. That is true with this poem. Thanks a lot for this treat. (Report) Reply

  • Thomas A Robinson (6/14/2013 4:01:00 AM)

    Imagination is everything
    Blaise Pascal
    You must have a touch of Celtic blood in you.
    Things associated with weeping willow trees by Celts.
    Williow wood still used in ceremonies intended for enhancement of one's psychic abilities.
    Honoring the moon.
    The increase in the essence of love in our lives.
    The willow's affinity for watery domains and their close connection to the flora and fauna
    of the same makes them dwellers of a psychic realm
    Synbol of inspired imagination.
    Closely associated by relationship to water to the moon (a powerful symbol of psychic and intuitive
    energy) .
    The Celts understood that the willow was instrumental in bringing about psychic visions that produced a
    clearer understanding of the world in which they lived.
    The willow's adaptability enables it to thrive in harsh conditions and it's flexibility (to bend without snapping)
    is used th metsphorically to suggest one's search for those things spiritual and the ability to adjust to life rather than fight it. (Report) Reply

  • Kevin Patrick (6/13/2013 9:18:00 PM)

    Had to read this two more times because I needed to get it across my puny mind. Well crafted imagery Valerie, it felt like a fairy tale with Brothers Grimm illustrations. I don't see the need to cry with such a magnificent companion this is a touch of beauty, thank you for sharing (Report) Reply

  • Chuck Audette (6/13/2013 2:41:00 PM)

    Love the personification of the Willow and ending, and the possible metaphor of the stone as death, or from a broken heart that can feel emotions no longer. (Report) Reply

  • Kavya . (6/13/2013 4:37:00 AM)

    wow wat a beautiful poem mam..........the imagination of turning into stone, the emotions in depth of loneliness is very nicely portrayed in ur poem (Report) Reply

  • Elena Sandu (6/10/2013 10:07:00 AM)

    Magic pen transformed in flute playing a touching song, it filled my room's air with a scent of salt. Thank you! (Report) Reply

  • Danny Draper (6/10/2013 9:25:00 AM)

    This fine poem remindes me of another fine poem by Emily Dickinson with some similar emotions touched. See below.

    I Died For Beauty

    I died for beauty, but was scarce
    Adjusted in the tomb,
    When one who died for truth was lain
    In an adjoining room.

    He questioned softly why I failed?
    For beauty, I replied.
    And I for truth - the two are one;
    We brethren are, he said.

    And so, as kinsmen met a-night,
    We talked between the rooms,
    Until the moss had reached our lips,
    And covered up our names.

    Emily Dickinson (Report) Reply

  • Neela Nath (6/7/2013 11:16:00 PM)

    Sadness spreads everywhere.Nature cries, when we cry.Cinematic language goes like this.A wonderful poem from a wonderful poetess! (Report) Reply

  • Kevin Halls (6/4/2013 2:44:00 PM)

    It must be the time of year because I've just done a poem on a Tree.
    This is a bit of a classic though.
    I've always been fascinated by Trees they are magnificent and a bit sinister at the same time! (Report) Reply

Read all 38 comments »

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