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Shade
In the woods…
The shade
comes to listen
In the shade…
Veined leaves
and silver firs glisten
In the veins…
There courses
voices of the trees
In the trees…
The shade listens
then grieves
The shade comes…
The shade listens…
Then leaves…
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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They Remain Beautiful To Behold
there are trees without leaves
there are those
that do not flower
that do not give you
any fruit at all
yet these trees remain
trees
and i do not entertain
any idea
of an ax
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Allure Fruits
bats are back
their fruit trees in fruit
forgotten fruit not
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Strange Fruit
Southern trees bear a strange fruit
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees
Pastoral scene of the gallant south
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth
Scent of magnolia sweet and fresh
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.
Here is a fruit for the crow to pluck
For the rain to wither, for the wind to suck
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop
Here is a strange and bitter crop.
song performed by by Ub40
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Strange Fruit
Lewis allen
Southern trees bear strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.
Pastoral scene of the gallant south,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.
Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Crossed Apple
I’ve come to give you fruit from out my orchard,
Of wide report.
I have trees there that bear me many apples.
Of every sort:
Clear, streaked; red and russet; green and golden;
Sour and sweet.
This apple’s from a tree yet unbeholden,
Where two kinds meet, -
So that this side is red without a dapple,
And this side’s hue
Is clear and snowy. It’s a lovely apple.
It is for you.
Within are five black pips as big as peas,
As you will find,
Potent to breed you five great apple trees
Of varying kind:
To breed you wood for fire, leaves for shade,
Apples for sauce.
Oh, this is a good apple for a maid,
It is a cross,
Fine on the finer, so the flesh is tight,
And grained like silk.
Sweet Burning gave the red side, and the white
Is Meadow Milk.
Eat it, and you will taste more than the fruit:
The blossom, too,
The sun, the air, the darkness at the root,
The rain, the dew,
The earth we came to, and the time we flee,
The fire and the breast.
I claim the white part, maiden, that’s for me.
You take the rest.
poem by Louise Bogan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Perennial regrets
A bird seeks a tree for its fruit
And its chicks, for its shade
And abandon the tree when it suits.
Man and trees end with regrets.
25.04.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shield Bugs
I was assiduous
organizing my collection.
Had you not been told
what they were,
you might have thought
they were trees and stars,
or an orchard,
a small one of nine large trees,
three to a row,
or a large one of forty-five small conical trees
in nine groups of five,
three to a row,
or, taking part in a contest
to find the largest possible number of trees,
you could add the two together
and have fifty four
and think you had them all.
Some bright spark,
a contestant,
got the idea to replace the lot with wind turbines.
Someone was sure the turbines had been there
before the shield bugs.
Another, threw theory into chaos:
while agreeing that
a tree can be made of stars,
he also asserted,
a star can be made of trees!
Within a steady state of coexistence
each possibility pulsed
in and out of sense.
poem by Douglas Scotney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Seed Within
what are you going to do?
he might ask
are you going to wait
are you going to wait
for the seed to take root
bloom and bear fruit
leave it to me
he might say
i will give you the fruit in a capsule
you give me your seed...why toil
he would ploy
A FRUIT IN A CAPSULE IS'NT A FRUIT AT ALL
The path too is a joy
the growth too is a joy
from the seed to the fruit
a spiritual share is a joy too
the giver and the taker share the joy
if it was a share
which gave you joy
how can you use it
as a ploy
poem by Samanyan Lakshminarayanan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Karen
Disillusioned with the dwarf fruit trees,
And with the seeds and tools to march on to my farm;
But, how could you not get enough of my love?
The doorbells rang as i was carrying my bags to the front door,
There i met Karen without having a second thought!
But don't be disillusioned with the dwarf fruit trees around.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Tree's Fruit
Good fruit or bad fruit, a tree can only bear one,
This parable was taught by God's one and only Son.
First mentioned by John as a warning for the Pharisees to heed,
But being blind to The Truth, most of them would not believe.
Your life is the tree and your deeds are the fruit,
This is a simple analogy that it hard to dispute.
But the Pharisees who knew the Word and lived in the land,
Were rebuked by John the Baptist, as they didn't understand.
Christians need to produce fruit for the Lord and nothing less,
And all the fruit that we produce should be fruits of righteousness.
Our old nature will produce fruit that comes from the past,
Not only is this fruit bad, but it's the kind that won't last.
Not only is bearing good fruit The Lord's heart desire,
But trees that continue to bear bad fruit may be cast in the fire.
Within your own heart is where the good or bad fruit is stored,
And by your fruits men will know you, is made clear by The Lord.
The fruit of righteousness is a tree of life, was once said,
However, a tree that bears bad fruit may be eternally dead.
What fruit you produce is strictly your choice my dear friend,
And by this choice you will either be blessed or condemned.
( 03/2002)
Fruit Not Felled By The Wind
old fruit trees shedding petals in the wind
fragrant lily white petals strew green grass
before wedding of tree love born on wind
flowers endure grace old trees with fruit
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Strange Fruit
(l.allen)
Originally performed by billie holiday. jeff performed it live on air at kcrws man in the moon, on january 1994.
Southern trees bear strange fruit
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.
Pastoral scene of the gallant south
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.
Here is fruit for the crows to pluck
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop
Here is a strange and bitter crop.
song performed by by Jeff Buckley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sanctuary
'And on the banks, on both sides of the river, there will grow all kinds of trees for food. Their leaves will not wither nor their fruit fail, but they will bear fresh fruit every month, because the water
for them flows from the sanctuary. Their fruit will be for food, and their leaves for healing.' ~ Ezekiel 47: 12
sanctuary
dying trees
and fallen
leaves
dried river
hungry heart
and wounded liver
sanctuary
bones of dust
sanctuary
my head
know longer knows
poem by Jay Reynolds
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Don't Want to Give My Shade Away
Don't want to give my shade away.
Today it's too valuable
And it's not easy to just give it.
Like yesterday.
When some would deliver it,
WITH a nose lift!
I only hope they have some left refrigerated.
These are not those times anymore.
Pruddish snobs have pawned their offenses.
Many of them.
I remember when some gave me shade.
And now they don't have it to give away.
They once gave shade as if with them it would stay.
And only 'they' were able to give it.
But their philosophies and mine have changed.
Today I am more selective as to who gets my shade.
And if it has not been earned...
Who ever gets it has to pay!
I am not into that kind of charity.
I've been demoted by those motions.
And now I don't devote my time to those 'giveaways'.
Don't want to give my shade away.
Are you serious?
Some took away my dignity,
So I could afford this!
Today?
It is too valuable.
And it's not easy to just give it.
I've learned to be selfish.
I want to see some remorse.
At least some effect of my willingness,
To intimidate.
'My brother...
We must learn to turn the other cheek.'
I agree.
Close your eyes.
I have a surprise for you.
'Owww!
Why?
Why did you hit me? '
Excellent.
Maintain your training.
One day you will be skilled.
Wait until you graduate into the 'tongue in cheek' arena.
I bit many a tongue on that one!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Strange Fruit
(l. allan)
Southern trees bear a strange fruit
Blood on the leaves and blood at the roots
Black bodies swingin in the southern breeze
Strange fruit hangin from the poplar trees
Pastoral scene of the gallant south
The bulging eyes and twisted mouth
Scent of magnolias sweet and fresh
And the sudden smell of burning flesh
Here is the fruit
For the crows to pluck
For the rain to gather
For the wind to suck
For the sun to rot
For the tree to drop
Here is a strange and bitter crop
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He who plants fruit-trees, must not count upon the fruit.