A mouse that removes the palm-nut that turns out to be the bait of a trap, would already have known that the palm-nut does not ripen on the ground.
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Sleeping Mouse
Sleeping Mouse
In front of me, on the track that leads into the bushes, a tiny field mouse.
Picked it up and put it in the palm of my hand. The mouse was brown and
white, absurdly cute when it curled up and fell asleep in the morning light.
Eyes, lungs and heart, like me, so what’s next? I couldn’t stay here with my
hand outstretched waiting for it to wake up from its slumber, nor could
I take it home. Behind me I heard the shepherd with his sheep and dogs,
Put the mouse in my pocket. When dust had settled and the baaing stopped
I put my hand in pocket to pick it up, only it wasn’t there anymore. To have
a mouse in the palm of my hand, is one thing, but to have it crawling about
inside my pants? I took my trousers off. I took my shirt off. I stood there
naked as Adam in Paradise, no mouse. As I slowly dressed, butterflies flitted
making the woods enchanting.
poem by Oskar Hansen

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Change the world with turning the palm
Change the world with turning the palm
Turning upside
Turning downside
Changing the world is not as hard as you think
Turning outside
Turning inside
Changing the world could be as easy as turning palm
Palm is opened
Palm is closed
Clap! Clap! Clap! The astonishing sound heard
Palm is hailed
Palm is hugged
When all people do it together
Yes, we can make a different
Change the world with turning the palm
Hide away smile
Erase away tears
Changing the world with a slight change of mind
The fate is cast
The fate unknown
Changing the world by turning others opinion
Palm is embracing
Palm is praying
Crack! Crack! Crack! A flicker of hope seen
Palm is waved
Palm is offered
When all people do it sincerely
Yes, we can change the world
poem by Maria Sudibyo

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The Palm-Tree
Is it the palm, the cocoa-palm,
On the Indian Sea, by the isles of balm?
Or is it a ship in the breezeless calm?
A ship whose keel is of palm beneath,
Whose ribs of palm have a palm-bark sheath,
And a rudder of palm it steereth with.
Branches of palm are its spars and rails,
Fibres of palm are its woven sails,
And the rope is of palm that idly trails!
What does the good ship bear so well?
The cocoa-nut with its stony shell,
And the milky sap of its inner cell.
What are its jars, so smooth and fine,
But hollowed nuts, filled with oil and wine,
And the cabbage that ripens under the Line?
Who smokes his nargileh, cool and calm?
The master, whose cunning and skill could charm
Cargo and ship from the bounteous palm.
In the cabin he sits on a palm-mat soft,
From a beaker of palm his drink is quaffed,
And a palm-thatch shields from the sun aloft!
His dress is woven of palmy strands,
And he holds a palm-leaf scroll in his hands,
Traced with the Prophet's wise commands!
The turban folded about his head
Was daintily wrought of the palm-leaf braid,
And the fan that cools him of palm was made.
Of threads of palm was the carpet spun
Whereon he kneels when the day is done,
And the foreheads of Islam are bowed as one!
To him the palm is a gift divine,
Wherein all uses of man combine,--
House, and raiment, and food, and wine!
And, in the hour of his great release,
His need of the palm shall only cease
With the shroud wherein he lieth in peace.
'Allah il Allah!' he sings his psalm,
On the Indian Sea, by the isles of balm;
'Thanks to Allah who gives the palm!'
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier

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Palm trees
There’s palm trees that grows in a row
down Nelson Mandela drive
and I wonder how they survive
and are full of life and vibrance,
while the one or other pest
destroys the rest of the palm trees
and eats them from the inside
and my neighbour’s palm
is yellow brown and dead.
poem by Gert Strydom

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In The Palm Of Your Hand
In the palm of your hand
you hold my heart.
Cradle it gently, my love
so it will never fall apart.
In the palm of your hand
you hold my love.
Carress it tenderly forever
and always place it above
everything that you touch.
Hold my hand
in the palm of your hand
so that I may always feel
that the sifting grains of sand
in the hourglass of time
will never be able to steal
these precious moments away.
Let them be able to stay
always in the palm of your hand.
poem by Edwina Reizer

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Palm-Kernel-Chain Game
Chain Point One: The big cat may be away
But may appear any day
The Long-whiskered rats
Are pretending
NOW: a bait of palm kernels
Is strategically placed
The big cat
Pretends hiding
The rats
Start telegramming…
The cat is waiting
The rats are
Picking…!
The cat is inputting…
Chain Point Two: Palm kernel is the main gastronomy
And has national distribution-tag
NOW:
The cat is flying
The rats
Are sprinting
The feline rake
Is closing in
Some rats
Are hollering
Gripped furs
Are falling…!
Chain Point Three: Oh no lessons in the inner tray
No baiting chain breaks
NOW:
The big cat is away…
And
Again long-whiskered rats
Rush out
Again to rummage thru
Stately kept pantries
For
Fresh palm kernels
Chain Point One: A big cat may be away…
poem by by unknown author

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A palm wine taper does not stop tapping palm wine because he once fell from the top of a palm wine tree.
Licking The Palm For Guava
It was a cold, dark night
No hope in sight
I left my little hut
And went to the palm
To get some guava
Licking the palm for guava
Licking the palm for guava
Yes, when youre old and youre not very young
Lick the palm for guava
Lick the palm
When youre old and youre not very young
Lick the palm for guava
song performed by by Ween

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Alankar (Decor) -32
Chase (Rondeau Redoubled)
I won't let you go out o' little mouse
Shall see to it once and all for today
You run run-I run run-round round the house
But I win, you're caught and lost just today
Here I keep the trap to trap and dismay
Sugared magic sure you're fooled o'poor mouse
Cunning you think? brainy you think? ..today
I won't let you go out o' little mouse
Fought, caught, taught to rot petty petty mouse
Bitter squeaks, what a pest, what a hell, hey
Snouty mouse, messy beast, out from this house
Shall see to it once and all for today
May foe feline be fed on you today
Be hooked and thrown-that I shall venge you mouse
Ha, ha, ha then shall all end just today
You run run-I run run-round round the house
No reason, no season, no taste o' mouse
krrkk, krrkk-nibbling all things, all time whole day
Like thief hide and steal you do in my house
But I win, you're caught and lost just today
Here is the trap for your best goal today
Slip in soundless for the 'masaal' o'mouse
I'm sure you will tempted fall but at bay
Thrown awed by foe feline outside the house
I won't let you
poem by Indira Renganathan

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When you drink milk under the palm tree, people will say that it is palm wine.
It is only one bad palm tree that spoils the whole lot of palm wine.
Which is worth the bride?
A healthy palm looks good.
A bearing palm gets value.
Women with attributes,
Excel ones with features.
26.05.2000, Palakkad
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar

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Sea Canaries
The small white whales in packs of pods
keep their pacts with us, the fated beasts.
They wail their songs and the water wavers,
and we who signed them waive our rights
to have them. Here is where they belong,
all right, and here is where I leave them:
their pale, bountiful bodies to the sea.
I see a pail of fish and I would rather
feed on palm wood than palm one up
to shed it to those seabirds. To bate the brink
of bygone beauty, I bring no bait. A thatch shed
on the shore would keep me closer. O idol
of the gulls and wingèd seagirls and idle guitar
players, paddle deep and far off from my kind
who peddle our wares like love-me-kindly petals.
Heart turn to Tilapia
Joh gave Mou small
roasted tilapia fish
Small as it’s
Mou rejected tilapia in greed
And threw it in to river
fat and savoury soaked Mou palm
Mou looked and smelled his palm
He licked his palm
‘’why you throw fish away
And you lick your hand’’
Joh asked
‘’I am not licking but washing ‘’
‘’why don’t you use water’’
‘’my tongue can clean better than water’’
Mou said
What irony
poem by David Aoloch Bion

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Dont Let Go
Words and music: mike reno, brian macleod
Does anybody out there
Ever want to stand up
And shout it out
Tired of going nowhere fast
Gotta turn your world about
You know you have to keep on tryin
Cause sooner or later
You get what you want
Show em what youre made of
Ohh, its just a matter of time
So tell me can you feel it
Can you touch it
If you feel it in the palm of your hand
Dont let go
Aint it funny how the gross looks greener
On the other side of town
Dont you ever get tired of feelin
Like the whole world is bringing you down
Nows the time to get things movin
Follow what youre feelin
Prove that you can do it
Show what you believe in
Ohh, its just a matter of time
Tell me, can you feel if
Can you touch it
If you feel it in the palm of your hand
Dont let go
Tell me, can you feel if
Con you touch it
If you feel it in the palm of your hand
Dont let go
I know where you con get it
If anybody wants if
I know if made you feel so right
All you gotta do is stand up and be counted
Show me that youre out there tonight
Can you feel it
Can you touch if
If you feel it in the palm of your hand
Dont let go
Come on
Can you feel it
Can you touch it
If you feel it in the palm of your hand
Dont let go
Tell me, can you feel it
Can you touch it
If you feel it in the palm of your hand
Baby, dont let go
Dont let go
Dont let go
Dont let go
If you feel it in the palm of your hand
song performed by by Loverboy

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Palm Sunday
Because it is the day of Palms,
Carry a palm for me,
Carry a palm in Santa Chiara,
And I will watch the sea;
There are no palms in Santa Chiara
To-day or any day for me.
I sit and watch the little sail
Lean side-ways on the sea,
The sea is blue from here to Sorrento,
And the sea-wind comes to me,
And I see the white clouds lift from Sorrento
And the dark sail lean upon the sea.
I have grown tired of all these things,
And what is left for me?
I have no place in Santa Chiara,
There is no peace upon the sea;
But carry a palm in Santa Chiara,
Carry a palm for me.
poem by Arthur Symons

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Of Mere Being
The palm at the end of the mind,
Beyond the last thought, rises
In the bronze decor,
A gold-feathered bird
Sings in the palm, without human meaning,
Without human feeling, a foreign song.
You know then that it is not the reason
That makes us happy or unhappy.
The bird sings. Its feathers shine.
The palm stands on the edge of space.
The wind moves slowly in the branches.
The bird's fire-fangled feathers dangle down.
poem by Wallace Stevens

Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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The palm-trees
Palm-trees become frequent victims
Of thunderbolts!
Don’t grow tall like palm-trees;
Sprout and spread your branches …
poem by Asif Andalib

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Palms
Tender palm
Upon thy palm
Fate upon
Another fate.
This junction
Shall now fly calm
And thus feel
So ever great.
***
poem by Josh Alfred

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Little palm tree, stop crying, you child is the tall palm tree.