Tag Archives: #Tree

The tinsel untangler of old Looe town

Tinsel in a tangle?

Decorations run amok?


Stay jolly,

leave the holly upon the bush;

imagine your Christmas tree,

without actually having one.

Imagine it perfectly lit,

with tinsel and ornaments

perfectly positioned,

and sturdy enough

to allow all the cats in the neighbourhood

to swing from the branches

without harm to either party.


And no needles to pick up,

no tree to pack away,

no chocolates hanging

low enough for the dogs to eat,

no worry, and no vet’s bill,

no cost involved

at all.


Tinsel tangled?

Decorations in a mess?


There’s a cure for that.

Monkey Puzzle Tree

Three little words,

one, two, three,

put them all together,


add them together

that makes six,

take them off to Pelham

for the puppets to fix;

monkeys puzzle long

over pick ‘n’ mix,

at the top of a tree,

in a house made of bricks;

watching the book of the film

on a visit to the flicks.

The Old Man and the Tree

“I have never ever hugged a tree. I haven’t even been tempted to. And, in that sort of ball-park, I have never ever wanted to hold hands with a grandfather clock, or cuddle up close to a Lavender bush.”

The tree cried a little, all it needed was a hug.

A Penguin (up a tree) – revisited

I saw a penguin up a tree

it was, I think, an Emporee;

it’s hard to tell quite what you’ve found

when looking up so high

from the viewpoint of the ground.

I could have been mistaken,

I often always am;

but, I’m fairly pretty certain that a penguin,

up a tree,

is a penguin in a jam.

Tree Fellers

Tree Fellers

Three of them, there were;

armed with cheery banter,

and a thermos of coffee a piece.

Down came the tree,


⁃ the end of an Ash.

Dec. 9th – Bird Song – #PoemADayForDecember

High upon the branch

of a leafless tree

perches a tiny song bird,

chirruping free;

calling out welcomes, or Winter warnings,

or just singing a tune;

he throstles and thristles, and whistles,

about the heat of the Sun,

or the light of the Moon;

who has poked her face

through a cloudy day;

and the song bird comments

upon this, and that,

and has lots to say.

High upon the branch

of a neighbouring tree,

perches another tiny song bird,

who listens, happily.

The race to be

Is it you,

or is it me,

who’s going to be

the last leaf on the tree?

Every other leaf has fallen,

we’ve been left behind;

and when one more leaf

has heard its calling;

there will only be

one last solitary leaf

upon the tree to find.


There was,

some might say,

a necessity

for a Teapotupatree;

me, I can’t even see

the point in tea.

Three Little Thirds

Three little thirds

flew into a tree,

as one.

An Wedhen (The tree)



an wedhen.