Every Tree Should Get A Poem

[kindofahippy]

Nostalgia never felt more bittersweet when "when" and "the" are poor choices for beggining and end words. Conjunctions make for a boring and anticipated logical flow
the old red oak tree by the north river pond had snapped 13 syllables here to line one's 11 causes the reader to rush through the poem to maintain the rhythm
in half by the storm, like his spine was made of rubber. anthropomorphism here adds intense emotional attachment to the tree just through using the word "spine", good job
Driving past the fields of childhood memories, This line is illogical. It has no connection to the preceding lines and ruins the scene created so far
it's like someone killed the local pastor. These last two lines switch from iambic to trochaic, which ruins the rhythm

Limp and bowed over, the rope swing dipped in water. add "now" after "swing", otherwise it sounds like the rope swing is limp and bowed over
His branches no longer constricted high the rope swing, or the tree? This line requires a logical connect-the-dots which, again, demolishes what could be a great mental picture. Also, why are the branches constricted? Was it a sickly, scrawny tree? If so, how could it have been a "high and mighty" oak tree?
and mighty, but drooped down to eye level.
No more fresh sap can he deliver, just sheltering an old honey hive, 18 syllables here is a full ten syllables longer than the next line, and eight more than the one before it. This makes the rhythmic quality sound horrible through this stanza, the lines have to be read through again and again because a good, lyrical quality can't be found in them
that the rain could not wash over,
and children were climbing his lifeless
trunk, ripping out the only twigs left on his withered
arms, and hauling them at each other. as in the first stanza, a great use of "arms" to humanize the tree and add emotion

With empathy I pulled over to get a look at what The inversion here feels forced, since it's just used to create a rhyme with the next line
mother nature undertook. Giving birth to a seedling,
only to watch it come crashing down.
Never did I question his strength
as I would swing on his dark, husky branches, jumping in greenery
to drown. This stanza is filler material, it uses a great deal more content than neccesary to say that it was sad to see such a wonderful tree fall away from you

Does he remember the sweat I soaked into his bole, when I pedaled so hard trochaic
from school, being chased by a battalion of girls using rocks as grenades. iambic
I hid, and he hid me in his regal position iambic
vines wrapping around my hurt, cradling me still. trochaic

Your metric pattern has disintegrated, which upsets any lyrical quality this poem had left. The content in the last three stanzas is mundane, straightforward, and easily anticipated, and the poem has to be read several times to try and find a good way to speak it. The poem from here simply rants on about the same concept, the protaganist's love for this oak tree, and it just keeps telling reasons why. Instead, you could show the audience the passing of seasons and time through the oak tree's perspective, and let the audience deduce the intinsic value of the oak from that.

No longer can he change colors to match the skylines. This is too forced. City skylines are gray and blue, colors the oak tree does not mirror
The old oak tree will be taken in by the city to be, no comma
chopped, sawed and glued.
Maybe to be the next headline warning Instead of telling us this, show us this by giving it as the last words of the oak tree
to take cover, enjambment here on a weak "to" would be better served by "cover"
when a storm is coming through.

It was a good poem, but too lengthy on its subject matter. With condensation and more attention to metrical balance, it could have that smooth, lyrical quality that demarcates a poem that souds "right" when read out loud.