To forget one's ancestor's is to be a brook without a source, a tree without root.
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To forget one's ancestors is to be a brook without a source, a tree without a root.
Roots, Trees, and Fruits
A tree is known by its root
The source of its first life
A fruit is known by the tree
As a man is known through strife.
The root of a man is his family
The tree is the man that has grown-
The words that he writes in poetry
Show the rearing he has known.
-
Copyright Cynthia Buhain -Baello
July 6,2009 Tarlac City Philippines
--
'No good tree bears bad fruit, nor does a bad tree bear good fruit.
Each tree is recognized by own fruit.'
Luke 6: 43
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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A New leaf
There’s a new leaf upon the Tree
A thousand, thousand have been before
In the life of this great tree
Yet, the Tree rejoices, and is glad
For there is a New Leaf upon the tree
The roots are deep, and hidden
Tis one tree from root to branch
And lives in and through each leaf
The hearts’ smile resurrected
Through the New leaf upon the tree
Like the stars of heaven
New leaves have been many
And so they all are One
For they all share the same root
Bless the New leaf upon the tree
Perfection in the Blessing
Joy released in tears of love
The strength in life will comfort
From root to God above
A New leaf upon the tree
Beauty, Truth, and life
Complete from root to branch
When life’s cycle turns
Leaves fall to nourish roots
And behold, a New leaf upon the tree
poem by Adrian Wait
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A Brook In The City
The farmhouse lingers, though averse to square
With the new city street it has to wear
A number in. But what about the brook
That held the house as in an elbow-crook?
I ask as one who knew the brook, its strength
And impulse, having dipped a finger length
And made it leap my knuckle, having tossed
A flower to try its currents where they crossed.
The meadow grass could be cemented down
From growing under pavements of a town;
The apple trees be sent to hearth-stone flame.
Is water wood to serve a brook the same?
How else dispose of an immortal force
No longer needed? Staunch it at its source
With cinder loads dumped down? The brook was thrown
Deep in a sewer dungeon under stone
In fetid darkness still to live and run --
And all for nothing it had ever done
Except forget to go in fear perhaps.
No one would know except for ancient maps
That such a brook ran water. But I wonder
If from its being kept forever under,
The thoughts may not have risen that so keep
This new-built city from both work and sleep.
poem by Robert Frost
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If I Ever Forget You
If i ever forget you,
the sun would forget
to shine nor the moon
at night.
If i ever forget you,
ants would forget to gather
food and the fish would
forget how to swim.
If i ever forget you,
the river would forget the
sea and the sunflower would
forget to gaze at the sun.
If i ever forget you,
babies would forget how
to crawl and cock would
forget how to crow.
If i ever forget you,
farmers would forget there
path and humans would forget
there name.
If i ever forget you,
the tree would forget to
bear fruit and demons would
forget to do evil.
If i ever forget you.
i will never forget you.
poem by Enebeli Ifyprada
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A Poem With Roots
Deep in the ground
Far beneath my feet
My mothers lifetime ago
A seed, a root, a tree began to grow.
Buried in the soil
It once lay alone,
Til the seeds, the root, the tree began to show.
Deep in the ground
Far beneath my feet.
A root became a tree.
poem by Caitlynn Rose
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Source Of Confort
God is a source of energy
God is a source of light
God is a source of love
God is a source of peace
God is a source of comfort
God is a source of hope
God is a source of freedom
God is a source of praise
poem by Aldo Kraas
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I Am Seized By A Strange Desire!
I am seized by a strange desire
That thrusts me through the dizzy darkness
Into ages and ages past to trace
That ancient soul, the very first seed,
That sprouted my lineage aeons ago.
Neither guides nor torches are at hand
To lead me into pitch dark corridors
Of the labyrinthine pathways
With strong stench of dead memories.
I lose my vision a few miles thereon;
Yet I will be on my way, struggles whatever may be.
It seems now as if I am the loftiest leaf
Of a tiniest twig kissing the heavens;
And my journey down below through a maze of
Leaves, branches to main trunk and to root proper
To have a holy meeting with my remotest ancestor look
Both arduous and bleak; yet my urge surges me on.
One by one wakes up from dead to my strong loving calls
And declares one's links to my family chain-
Only three links, one up and one down, is revealed to me;
And by the time I cover more and more distances
I realize that I have my relations in every country
In every caste, creed and religion, professions,
In every strata of societies, in all dialects and languages
In short I find that my blood coursing through
All individuals of all continents of this earth.
My journey is now just half way and I am exhausted
When will I reach my family tree's trunk and root?
Who could be my remotest ancestor, I surmise?
May I call him the God Himself, my remotest Dot!
I drown into deep meditation; then why should there be
Fights amongst siblings of this earth for all silly causes
When we all are from the same apex but sprinkled all over?
Peace settles on me like mist on a mountain on a cool night
O greedy folks, when you fight, think of that one ancestor
Who brought us all and shake your hands, throwing down your conflicts!
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Love
Love is a source
To unite deserted hearts,
A source to recognize God,
A source to illumine character,
It lies in the fragrance of rose,
In the rippling of brook,
In the sermon of a saint,
In the innocence of a child.
It admits no barrier,
It denies region, religion and,
language,
It's impact is universal,
Love has it's own way
To accomplish the matters.
Anything which is devoid of honesty
Is not love.
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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On Tree
Just a plain old TREE. I Ignored the weather
satisfied with me. I Looked at TREE.
What if anything do I knoe about TREE.
It used to be a thing made out of wood, always tall,
with branches near the ground. Roots fingering the ground.
Life comes up somehow to TREE. Water cascades down to ground, seeping slowly into ROOT. ROOT transmogrifies
the water into inner sanctum stuff known only to the Lord.
People still tell me, Tree just cannot live.
There is no real feeling in TREE.
There is knowledge in TREE or it would be a blade of grass.
People say the life is in the seed or sapiling.
I think the knowledge is in the MAN, the ONE who can.
He Makes all the TREE begin, upon a distant planet,
Creates the thing again, in the courtyard of his KING.
And every meadow of his earth.
The ONE who gave me birthe the second time around.
The ONE who gave me TREE.
And Time to write this down.
poem by Charles Hice
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The Hare And The Fox
The fox lay still by the birch-tree's root
In the heather.
The hare was running with nimble foot
O'er the heather.
Was ever brighter a sunshine-day,
Before, behind me, and every way,
O'er the heather!
The fox laughed low by the birch-tree's root
In the heather.
The hare was running with daring foot
O'er the heather.
I am so happy for everything!
Hallo! Why go you with mighty spring
O'er the heather?
The fox lay hid by the birch-tree's root
In the heather.
The hare dashed to him with reckless foot
O'er the heather.
May God have mercy, but this is queer! --
Good gracious, how dare you dance so here
O'er the heather?
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Don’t be an uprooted Tree
Seed is sown and the embryo is formed
Legitimate or not, radicle develops into root
Root penetrates into the surface of the soil
Absorbs water and food, turns seed into plant
Inherits the culture of the earth beneath.
It’s in root science that, it moves in
Right direction to fetch the exact need.
Stem gives the support and balance to stand
Branches form the vitality of the plant
Leaves prepare the food to survive
Bearing even odds the plant grows into tree.
As long as deep roots embraces mother earth
The tree shows confidence and attracts.
Location and depth are the might of the tree
Flower, fruit, shade, firm soil, H2O and CO2
Vary from tree to tree, but all owe to root
Never there is an existence beyond this means.
Still human trees surrender under the pressures
Try to get uprooted from the surface and means
Hoping for better flower, fruit, soil and breeze
Truth is, an uprooted tree, a timber, put to ablaze.
-vidi-
22-04-08
poem by Vidi Writes
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Chug-a-lug
Here a mug, there a mug, everybody chug-a-lug
Here a mug, there a mug, everybody chug-a-lug
Gary likes a girls tight black pants
Larry knows he doesnt stand a chance
Carl says hurry up and order it quick
Dave gets out to chase that chick
Dennis wonders whats under the hood
A big chrome tach and it sounds real good
I go down to the root beer stand
And drink up all that I can
Give me some root beer (chug-a-lug chug-a-lug chug-a-lug)
Give me some root beer (chug-a-lug chug-a-lug chug-a-lug)
Give me some root beer (chug-a-lug chug-a-lug chug-a-lug)
Cold beer, root beer
Here a mug, there a mug, everybody chug-a-lug
Brians still glued to the radio
Louies lookin out the rear window
Guys got around to orderin fries
But root beers my best buy
Give me some root beer (chug-a-lug chug-a-lug chug-a-lug)
Give me some root beer (chug-a-lug chug-a-lug chug-a-lug)
Give me some root beer (chug-a-lug chug-a-lug chug-a-lug)
Cold beer, root beer
Here a mug, there a mug, everybody chug-a-lug
Give me some root beer (chug-a-lug chug-a-lug chug-a-lug)
Give me some root beer (chug-a-lug chug-a-lug chug-a-lug)
Give me some root beer (chug-a-lug chug-a-lug chug-a-lug)
Cold beer, root beer
Here a mug, there a mug, everybody chug-a-lug
Root beer, need another mug now
Root beer, chug-a-lug-a-lug now
Root beer, need another mug now
Root beer, chug-a-lug-a-lug now
Root beer, need another mug now
Root beer, chug-a-lug-a-lug now
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Hemlock Tree. (From The German)
O Hemlock tree! O hemlock tree! how faithful are thy branches!
Green not alone in summer time,
But in the winter's frost and rime!
O hemlock tree! O hemlock tree! how faithful are thy branches!
O maiden fair! O maiden fair! how faithless is thy bosom!
To love me in prosperity,
And leave me in adversity!
O maiden fair! O maiden fair! how faithless is thy bosom!
The nightingale, the nightingale, thou tak'st for thine example!
So long as summer laughs she sings,
But in the autumn spreads her wings!
The nightingale, the nightingale, thou tak'st for thine example!
The meadow brook, the meadow brook, is mirroro f thy falsehood!
It flows so long as falls the rain,
In drought its springs soon dry again.
The meadow brook, the meadow brook, is mirror of thy falsehood!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Back To Our Root
we are going back to our
root to start from where
our ancestor stopped. We
have come to make the
motherland best amoung
it's counterparts, we are
back to our root i remember
many years ago we wonder
when we shall step our foot
in Africa? but right now it is
one hour different, inside
ship in the deep blue sea
full of lust to step our foot
on the land full of honey
and precious creatures.
We are back to Africa after
many years away from home.
there in far west been deny
our rights.
poem by Enyinwa Okechukwu Enyinwa
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I'm Just An Ordinary Tree
My existence
start from a little piece of seed...
First, I was bury on the ground...
Then, I showed my two cute leaves up in to world...
But it didn't end just like that...
I grow... more and more...
With love, hope and care,
I became a tree...
Tree with many leaves,
if you need some shady circumstance...
Tree with a strong wood,
if you need me to make a good wardrobe...
Tree with a tight root,
if you want to make a solid foundation...
Tree with a sincerely pray,
if you need a support...
Tree with an everlasting presence,
if you need a friend beside you forever...
Tree with a dry branch,
if you want to share your tears...
Tree with a pure dew,
if you feel thirsty...
Tree with a warm wind,
if you get cold and alone...
Tree with a full color's flowers,
if you feel your life so black and white...
Tree with many hopes,
if you lost your dreams away...
But... after all,
I'm just an ordinary Tree...
By: Tree
22 May 2007,7: 02 PM
A victory flag will fly with democracy
There are so many falling roots in our banyan tree
We are the younger roots among these ones;
If these roots are anchored in the land,
it is an array of strengthening the
principal root of that tree;
Then - a victory flag will fly
Over the root that forms an array;
On top of it - frontal area of the flag -
There will be three thilaks - these are
FREEDOM
DEMOCRACY
SOCIALISM.
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Tree-Frog Pedigree
Our great ancestor, Polly Wog,
With her cousin, Thaddeus Pole,
Eloped from her home in an Irish bog,
And crossing the sea on the 'Mayflower's' log,
At the risk of body and soul,
Married a Frog; and thus, you see,
How we come by a place in the family-tree
And the family name, Tree-frog.
poem by John Bannister Tabb
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Arbor Amoris
I have a tree, a graft of Love,
That in my heart has taken root;
Sad are the buds and blooms thereof,
And bitter sorrow is its fruit;
Yet, since it was a tender shoot,
So greatly hath its shadow spread,
That underneath all joy is dead,
And all my pleasant days are flown,
Nor can I slay it, nor instead
Plant any tree, save this alone.
Ah, yet, for long and long enough
My tears were rain about its root,
And though the fruit be harsh thereof,
I scarcely looked for better fruit
Than this, that carefully I put
In garner, for the bitter bread
Whereon my weary life is fed:
Ah, better were the soil unsown
That bears such growths; but Love instead
Will plant no tree, but this alone.
Ah, would that this new spring, whereof
The leaves and flowers flush into shoot,
I might have succour and aid of Love,
To prune these branches at the root,
That long have borne such bitter fruit,
And graft a new bough, comforted
With happy blossoms white and red;
So pleasure should for pain atone,
Nor Love slay this tree, nor instead
Plant any tree, but this alone.
L'ENVOY.
Princess, by whom my hope is fed,
My heart thee prays in lowlihead
To prune the ill boughs overgrown,
Nor slay Love's tree, nor plant instead
Another tree, save this alone.
poem by François Villon
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Cicely Bathing
The brook told the dove
And the dove told me
That Cicely's bathing at the pool
With other virgins three.
The brook told the dove
And the dove told me
That Cicely floating on the wave
Woke music in the tree.
The brook told the dove
And the dove told me
That Cicely's drying in the sun,
A snowy sight to see.
poem by Norman Rowland Gale
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