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Not a Knit Knot
Just what is,a Knit Knot Tree?
I looked it up, but could not see
It’s Not a Knit,it’s Not a Knot
A Knit Knot tree is,tell me what? 
I tried to Knit a Knit Knot tree
unlike the Knit Knot tree you see
but I can’t Knit,a Knit Knot Knit
a Knit Knot Knit.forced me to quit
Though I can Knot a Knit Knot Knot
a Knit Knot Knit, no,I can not
It’s hard to Knit a Knit Knot tree
Especially for a Nit like me
Gold trophy winner
  knit knot tree contest at AllPoetry.com

"The Gray Cold Sky"
 
It's cold outside,
too cold to go.
But the KnitKnot Tree doesn't think so.
In mittens clumsy,
With frozen toes
I add just one more luscious color
And then I add another,
Remembering suns of yellow, turquoise seas
flaming orange blossoms and skimpy pink tees.
There!
That's todays reply to the gray, cold skys.
Now into the Emporium for tea
And holding my frozen feet,
I sit saturated with color,
and watch the street
for the people who smile with the tree.
By Nancy Mellon

KNIT KNOT TREE
  Knit will not hurt the tree, you twit, All the experts say. Not acrylic or all natural, The tree will have its sway. 

 Its dormant shoots, its wounds (the knots) Delight in colors gay. Not double knit or garberdine, The tree will rule the day.  

Tree huggers trudge in woolen mitts To stand by here and pray. They knit their brows and toss their barbs From now to Arbor Day,

While knitters twitch their needles sharp, "It is not crewel," they say. Under the Village Knit Knot Tree The JAFAs dance and play. 

 --Steve Deal

The Knit Knot Tree, a Legend

In bygone days, a wicked witch
Knitted a tree in garter stitch


This tangled twisted kurchee stood
Upon the margins of a wood


And wayfarers who passed close by

And touched its bark, would quickly die


Then a good fairy called Lynette

Knitted a tree in stockinette


With branches red and bark of green
The happiest tree you'd ever seen


And happiness will always travel

The twisted kurchee did unravel


It dropped to pieces, stitch by stitch

So did the soul of the wicked witch


A golden sun rose o'er the wood

And weary travellers stopped and stood


As strength flowed into every vein

While hearty health restored their pain


They called this plant the knit-knot tree

And many people came to see


This miracle of many hues

Yellows and reds and greens and blues.

Keith Tait


TREES
I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is prest Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;