A tree that grows in the shade of another one will die small.
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Self Portrait
The willow tree stands alone.
It grows alone, relying only on the Sun and the Rain.
This willow tree offers shade.
It only shades during the day, casting a monster
of a shadow in the mornings and evenings,
its size shrinking in between. Its shadow
is solid in some places, but has empty
places of sunlight dotting the ground beneath
it, allowing room for purity among the darkness.
This willow tree is immune to the Wind.
It bends whichever way it needs to survive,
sacrificing its tiny leaves to be carried away.
This willow tree is a home.
Small birds build nests on its branches,
laying eggs that will bring new Life to the World.
The nest is supported. Some things of little
weight can be supported, but anything that drags
the branches too close to the ground
will be dropped so the tree can be saved.
This willow tree is weak.
As it grows, its branches come closer and closer
to the ground, for it cannot support the weight
of itself anymore. It cannot help its own soul.
With one swing of an ax, the tree will be felled.
It will be finished, left there to be eaten
and burrowed in and rotted away by the Earth.
poem by Zoe Guillory
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A Tree To Me
A Tree to Me
Once there was tree
It looks so strange to me
Wondering how it become a tree
A small sprout from a seed in my hand
Now, it's bigger than me.
Unfortunately, tree stood alone
Grows without heart and soul
No friend, no companion
But still stand strong
For you to help on
A tree is a friend to me
That set you free from calamity
From floods and erosion you are free
As you rest under the tree,
Think how lucky you are with a tree.
poem by Cristina Delos Santos
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A Family Is Like A Tree
A tree is like a family it starts
out very small but it soon begins
to grow and the family too also
grows.
The tree starts out with small branches.
A family ita a child.
as the years go by they have all
grown together.
Soon the tree has been generated with
new branches and too the family expands
not with branches, but generations.
.Their both so much a like in so many
ways., if nurtured and taken care of
they both will grow straight. and tall.
And generate many new branch
and many more generations too
come as the tree grows old
some branches will die and fall off.
When the generations of a family
get old they too will die off.
But both will leave something of
themselves behind.
.
To live on for many generations of
life and many generations of branches..
GAYLE GOFF
2008
poem by Gayle Anne Goff
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Sonnet: The Drumstick-Tree’s Growth
Look how the drumstick grows in length each day!
It goes so fast as if our eyes can know;
The fruit though small, grows long in Nature’s way,
And in a few days time, ’tis stick-like, oh!
Incredible it looks when fully grown,
From such a small flower, its present size;
God’s marvel makes man appear like a clown,
And yet, man will not agree God is wise.
The bees and butterflies too play their role;
Seeking nectar, they transfer pollen grains;
What umptine fruits cover the tree-like pole!
The lengthy fruits hang down like giant canes!
The drumstick tree shows God’s work at its best;
How much more wonderful, He’s done the rest!
poem by John Celes
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Shade Tree Horse
You know, I’m just a shade tree horse
I think they know it by now
When the sun is blistering hot
I won’t go in the field like a cow
I’ve tried to make my owner
Realize my station in life
I’ve sent a message to his kids as well
And even to my owner’s wife
I’m special and everyone knows it
If they don’t put me in my stall
When the weather’s so sweltering
There’s my shade tree after all
Then one day the weather will change
And winter will come, of course
But while the sun is a’blazin’
I’m always the shade tree horse!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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What Is Use Of Emminence?
Man goes as high he has broader view.
He can reach to root once got the clue.
Above the horizon once you rise
soon you feel you are part of the sky.
Start realising the world smaller than you;
Have a feeling in you, as yourself is blue.
But my friend! if want to see a spot;
you have to come down and have to locate.
Great personalities too, not of much use;
who look eminent but are not helpful.
Like the date tree which grows very tall
but doesn't provide shade and fruit grows far.
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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Shade
by the shadow
of the mountain
i am taking
a shade
on the shade
of a tree
i take my
shade
on the shade
of my body
i am taking
my shade
on the shade
of my soul
the mountain
the tree and
my body
also take
their shade
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hill slope
Down on the hill slope a tree was there with flowers on it,
Season came and season goes,
it remain there with shade and fruits to give,
Small wood pecker or big owl,
all were there as it was there home to live,
One day a wood cutter found it useful to him,
he thought it to cut and takes its wood to sell in city,
birds and squirrel on tree helplessly saw the tree,
they tried to make noise,
but it didn't affected the woodcutter in the need
he cut down the tree to take the wood,
the tree on hiill slope became log of wood,
weak protest of bird and animals,
on it was not enough,
to save the tree.
tree full of life became silent as saying what was my fault,
is it only there right to live,
but yes its true only humans here,
are powerfull and can do anything to live and win,
hill slope became barren and dry like desert
poor tree however it was home for many
didn't found the place on to live on earth.
the reason it don't understand
why it is weak and meek.not able to
survive and get its right to stay alive to give shade and life to others.
poem by Hemu Gupta
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Sonnet – Don’t Be
Don't be the fallen leaves, so young and green;
Don't be the buds that never can flower;
Don't be the twigs that always remain lean;
Don't be the flow'rs that dropp with each shower.
Don't be the branches growing very long;
Don't be the tree that never blooms at all;
Don’t be the nests that disallow Bird-song;
Don't be the fruits that hit the Earth by Fall.
Don't be the trunk hollowed by Birds, white-Ants;
Don't be the crown that can't get Sun or Rain;
Don't be the tree that grows not straight but slants;
Don't be the roots that prop the tree in vain.
Don't be the tree that grows on marshy-land;
Just be a tree secure in Maker's Hand.
poem by John Celes
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Reservation For One
This is my tree, my tree, my tree,
My one lone tree, pear tree,
It grows, overflows, it grows it’s fruit,
Alone, only for me.
If I could go to a far-away place,
With just me and my tree, pear tree,
I’d pack my bags, my bags I’d pack,
I’d pick up my bags and flee.
There’s nothing at all, no nothing,
At all, that films me more with glee,
Than those globes, those globes,
Of precious fruit in my tree, pear tree.
I sit beneath, beneath I sit,
Its laden canopy, I polish it’s leafs then,
Set a table of fruits,
Of wine, and bread and brie.
This tree, my tree, could feed the world,
Find me a wife and camaraderie,
It’s powers, it’s powers are vast but I
Can’t pass on its secret sadly.
I’d tell the world, the world I’d tell,
If they weren’t all so hungry, you see.
But my fruit, my fruits, my laboured.
Fruits, I grew only for me, for me,
No none are as hungry as me.
poem by Suzanne Louise Bishop
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An Old Tree Listens To The Tumult Of Distant Storms?
'And the days are not full enough
And the nights are not full enough
And life slips by like a field mouse
Not shaking the grass.'
-Ezra Pound, American,1885-1972
That flamboyant tree
gave us shade,
Remember once
Under the burning Sun.
But now the branches
fall often?
Flowers never bloom,
So how do you expect
sweet fruits?
Birds changed their usual route
for better orchards.
And the hollow tree shivers
even to a small drizzle.
Though the tree dreams of a refuge
unless the friendly termites
does anybody interests of an old barren tree?
to my West bengal poet friend Pranab!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A tree trunk the size of a man grows from a blade as thin as a hair. A tower nine stories high is built from a small heap of earth.
The Willow Tree
I am a Willow Tree, that sways gently in the wind
I am a Willow Tree, who has no limits.
I am a Willow Tree, who has long and beautiful branches
I am a Willow Tree, who provides shade and comfort.
I am a Willow Tree, who can be placed anywhere
I am a Willow Tree, I whisper in the wind.
I am a Willow Tree, you think I'm very free
I am a Willow Tree, don't ever want to be me.
poem by Lucy Gocher
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Proof positive 2011
Proof positive 2011
This tree is where no tree should be.
It clings to life precariously.
From whence it cam nobody knows.
All that we know is that it grows.
Although it’s stunted gnarled and bent.
It has survived that’s evident.
Perchance it’s where it should not be.
It does not matter to the tree.
This is the only place it knows
and so it very slowly grows.
Defying rules conceived by men
It forces them to think again.
Although the experts all agree.
It’s an impossibility
The tree discounts the experts view
A seed took root and simply grew.
That’s all seeds know how to do.
Its mere existence proves it’s true.
Tuesday,27 December 2011 http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Atheist And The Acorn
Methinks this World is oddly made,
And ev'ry thing's amiss,
A dull presuming Atheist said,
As stretch'd he lay beneath a Shade;
And instanced in this:
Behold, quoth he, that mighty thing,
A Pumpkin, large and round,
Is held but by a little String,
Which upwards cannot make it spring,
Or bear it from the Ground.
Whilst on this Oak, a Fruit so small,
So disproportion'd, grows;
That, who with Sence surveys this All,
This universal Casual Ball,
Its ill Contrivance knows.
My better Judgment wou'd have hung
That Weight upon a Tree,
And left this Mast, thus slightly strung,
'Mongst things which on the Surface sprung,
And small and feeble be.
No more the Caviller cou'd say,
Nor farther Faults descry;
For, as he upwards gazing lay,
An Acorn, loosen'd from the Stay,
Fell down upon his Eye.
Th' offended Part with Tears ran o'er,
As punish'd for the Sin:
Fool! had that Bough a Pumpkin bore,
Thy Whimseys must have work'd no more,
Nor Scull had kept them in.
poem by Anne Kingsmill Finch
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Why can't we...?
River flows
Only in one direction
And knows its destination
Yet,
Those by the banks
Thrive and prosper
Why can't we be
Like the river?
Tree bears fruit
And gives shade
For none in particular
Yet
Knows not its fruit
Or its shade
Why can't we be
Like the tree?
Rain rains
For earth to regenerate
The seed to sprout
And plant to bear leaf
Yet
Knows not the life
It recharges
Too many hands
On too many things
Do we have desiring
Name, fame and bounty
And suffer
We end up in
Rain of tears
With no shade to protect
We flow direction-less
Allowing our core
To wash away!
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Beauty By The Tree
Beauty By The Tree
It is you beneath the tree…
A wonder of wonders to behold…
A queen of nature's perfection…
Ebony layers starting up a re-action…
Yet the tree shades you well…
My heart swells with anticipation…
What a beauty you are by far…
I am swallowed up by your beauty…
Nature maketh no mistakes…
You and a tree by the lake…
Both wonders of the same creator…
God…God's love for beauty…
As God paused while creating you…
Then added your wisdom…
My, my…what a woman you are…
And the tree just adds to your beauty…
As nature adds to the beauty of this land…
As the rain gives the tree life…
Your heart grows and grows…
You, you wonderful you…
Make you some day a wonderful wife…
Of man's pit falls and strife…
For you my granddaughter I pray …
That you be honored like the tree always…
A creation of creations…a woman of women…
Awe! …a word for you…and your beauty…
Granddad
poem by whisperkwane Lamb
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Team efforts
Every seed that comes off a tree
Does not grow to a tree.
The one that grows to a tree
Depends on various factors
That have come in its fevour.
Don’t boast your glory.
14.08.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Poemtree
A mighty oak tree offers shade
to all who choose to rest, freely.
It’s far from any forest glade.
Standing alone in majesty.
Travellers who have rested her
have fastened to this mighty tree.
A notice board on which appear
examples of their poetry.
Some were written hastily
others prepared in advance
Some laminated properly
which can be read at first glance.
Weather worn, unreadable
the early ones which set the pace
although they are illegible
are still left carefully in place.
This is no place for graffiti
but poems written to express
their gratitude towards the tree.
A record of their thankfulness
Who built the board? Nobody knows
nor does it matter seemingly.
Mean while this fine selection grows.
The oak is now a poemtree.
2-Mar-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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