LONDIS CARPENTER


The Little Christmas Tree - Poem by LONDIS CARPENTER

Bruce the Spruce was a Christmas tree
He lived on Christmas Farm.
Each night he dreamed that he could bring
Cheer into someone's home.
He stretched his branches every day
And squeezed his needles tight,
So he could be a perfect tree
For holding Christmas lights.
Every year at Christmas time
Bruce did as he was taught
He showed all of his Christmas charm
Hoping he would be bought.
The people came from miles around
To buy their Christmas Trees.
They pulled and tugged at branches
And gave the twigs a squeeze.
They looked for trees just the right size,
With needles that would stay,
And trees that gave a Christmas smell
To brighten Christmas day.
Bruce was a perfect Christmas tree;
The children seemed to love him.
But Bruce was small and other trees
Still towered high above him.
The years went by and Bruce the Spruce
Eventually grew tall.
His branches spread and held their form;
They didn't droop at all.
But there were many Christmas Trees
That grew on Christmas Farm
And no one ever seemed to pick out Bruce,
With all his charm.
Bruce grew so sad as years went by;
It seemed he'd grown too tall.
It seemed that he would never be
A Christmas tree at all.
And when the families came each year
To buy trees for their home,
They never looked at Bruce the Spruce;
He stood there all alone.
Bruce never forgot Christmas;
It brightened all his dreams.
But in the light of each new day
He lost his Christmas schemes.
One day a truck came to the farm;
Men came with saws and rope.
They came to cut the tallest tree;
Bruce finally lost all hope.
"My time has come; I've grown too old, "
His arms trembled in fear.
"I'm only good for firewood now;
"I''ve seen my final year."
They cut him down and tied him to
The flatbed truck they brought.
They drove away, while Bruce the Spruce
Lie weeping on the truck.
Bruce closed his eyes and fell asleep;
He dreamed of silent nights,
Of children's smiling faces,
Of gifts and colored lights.
When Bruce awoke He couldn't hold
Back all of his delight.
Bruce couldn't believe what he saw;
His branches all had lights.
His arms were filled with tinsel.
Children were gathered ‘round.
And everyone was cheering
And laughing on the ground.
Bruce looked around in ecstasy;
He couldn't help but stare.
Bruce had become the Christmas tree
That now adorned Times Square.

Topic(s) of this poem: story

Form: Epic


Comments about The Little Christmas Tree by LONDIS CARPENTER

  • The Crow (12/6/2017 10:10:00 PM)


    Yeah, that was epic, in all senses of the word. Great Story. Another Good one. (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
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  • Grace Kusta Nasralla (11/30/2017 10:22:00 PM)


    Such good writing style. You made me love Bruce the Spruce! Great Poem. (Report) Reply

  • (11/29/2017 8:12:00 AM)


    Way to go Bruce, I never lost Hope; I knew you could do it. Nice poem. (Report) Reply

    (12/6/2017 3:18:00 AM)

    Thank you Grace; your comment means a lot

  • Practicing Poetess (11/25/2017 1:49:00 AM)


    Just in time for the season, a sweet Christmas story in poetry form, with a happy ending.
    A hearty Welcome to Poem Hunter, to a poet that I'm convinced we'll be hearing more from. Your initial poems posted are quite captivating, and you are already attracting positive attention!
    (Report) Reply

  • Kumarmani Mahakul (11/24/2017 4:06:00 PM)


    Every year at Christmas time Bruce did as he was taught. Christmas light did dwell on face. An amazing story is brilliantly penned....10 (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Friday, November 24, 2017



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