When the tree falls every one runs to gather sticks.
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The Sundowner.
So He will at the last, too, gather all,
As in the bush a traveller for his fire
Sticks and dry leaves, as eerie the light fades;
Till from those sticks and leaves there comes a flame,
Beside which in a weird infinity
The man will sit and gather lonely thoughts.
So He will at the last, too, gather all,
The great Sundowner in a painless sphere.
poem by Robert Crawford
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The Tree (a Repost)
the tree
when the big tree falls
hit by lightning
roared by thunder
when the big tree finally falls
and i am there
the big sound
of a giant old tree
falling finally to the ground
the arrogance
that used to be
of that big old tree
we all look up
it is so high
and we do not
climb it anyhow
we fear
and
perhaps we too pay respect
for its grandeur
and today this big tree falls
hit by lightning and roared by thunder
the universe claps upon the
fall of arrogance and pride
and a tree's belief about
its hugeness and
strength
now this tree falls
and i am here watching it
you are not here
you are in some foreign country
how can i tell you
that this tree has fallen
and there is nothing to fear anymore?
when a tree falls and you are not there
your logic tells
there is no tree
there is no tree of such strength and posture
there is no tree like that
that can ever fall
all because a lightning hit it
and all because the thunder roared
without you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Tree
when the big tree falls
hit by lightning
roared by thunder
when the big tree finally falls
and i was there
a big sound
of a giant old tree
falling finally to the ground
the arrogance
that used to be
by that big old tree
we all looked upon
it was so high
and we did not
climb it anyhow
for fear
and
perhaps respect for its grandeur
and today this big tree falls
hit by lightning and roared by thunder
the universe claps upon the
fall of arrogance and pride
and a tree's belief about
its hugeness and
strength
now this tree falls
and i am here watching it
you are not here
you are in some foreign country
how can i tell you
that this tree has fallen
and there is nothing to fear anymore?
when a tree falls and you are not there
your logic tells
there is no tree
there is no tree of such strength and posture
there is no tree like that
that can ever fall
all because a lightning hits it
and all because the thunder roared
without you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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44
when the big tree falls
hit by lightning
roared by thunder
when the big tree finally falls
and i was there
a big sound
of a giant old tree
falling finally to the ground
the arrogance
that used to be
by that big old tree
we all looked upon
it was so high
and we did not
climb it anyhow
for fear
and
perhaps respect for its grandeur
and today this big tree falls
hit by lightning and roared by thunder
the universe claps upon the
fall of arrogance and pride
and a tree's belief about
its hugeness and
strength
now this tree falls
and i am here watching it
you are not here
you are in some foreign country
how can i tell you
that this tree has fallen
and there is nothing to fear anymore?
when a tree falls and you are not there
your logic tells
there is no tree
there is no tree of such strength and posture
there is no tree like that
that can ever fall
all because a lightning hits it
and all because the thunder roared
without you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The tree
When the big tree falls
Hit by lightning
Roared by thunder
When the big tree finally falls
And I was there
A big sound
Of a giant old tree
Falling finally to the ground
The arrogance
That used to be
By that big old tree
We all looked upon
It was so high
And we did not
Climb it anyhow
For fear
And
Perhaps respect for its grandeur
And today this big tree falls
Hit by lightning and roared by thunder
The universe claps upon the
Fall of arrogance and pride
And a tree's belief about
Its hugeness and
Strength
Now this tree falls
And I am here watching it
You are not here
You are in some foreign country
How can I tell you
That this tree has fallen
And there is nothing to fear anymore?
When a tree falls and you are not there
Your logic tells
There is no tree
There is no tree of such strength and posture
There is no tree like that
That can ever fall
All because a lightning hits it
And all because the thunder roared
Without you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh Ellen To Play Fun Sticks With You.
What a love and joy to see you,
Your blond hair shines in the sun,
Your smile doth capture my heart strings,
We are going to have such fun
Gran dad walkies you say to me,
As you tightly hold my hand,
Let’s go play hide and seek,
Under this tree I will count and stand,
A bridge over the stream in the wood let’s look,
I will gather some twigs for Fun sticks we will play,
We both throw our Fun sticks into the brook,
Whose twig will be first under the bridge this way?
Such fun and so delightful,
We have had such a lovely day,
We are so exhausted,
And you are so tired and need your sleep,
I feel we are so lucky,
To have a grand daughter like you,
And also such a daughter,
Who made sure we got to know you,
Such a love so overwhelming,
So sure so strong so true,
One thing I will always remember,
Is when I played Fun Sticks with you?
(Ref Winnie the Pooh)
poem by Anthony Foster
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Why We Fight pt 1 (Lock and Load)
You’ve walked out the garden and watched your hands go
From picking up berries to picking up ammo
The same sticks and twigs that build up your village
Fight off the conquers and plunders and pillage//
-Stones and sticks and sticks and stones
Gather them up to protect your home
And when needed use them on some bones
Lay them all down to outline your zone
Raise them and burn them on your throne
Monsters can’t outrun the sticks and stones-
Sharpen your spears to take down your dinner
You and the beast can’t both be the winner
It’s about time you got out of this slump
Load up your brains to outsmart the hunt
poem by P.R. Prosper
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Bonfire
stoke the fire!
sticks of prejudice
and hatred...
sticks of greed
and apathy.
sticks of profit
and loss....
sticks of capitalism,
and oil....
sticks of guns,
and patriotism.
sticks of sexual abuse
and addiction...
sticks of oppression,
and slavery....
stoke the fire!
build it up till
it's all gone....
maybe we'll find
...tomorrow..
in the ashes!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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When the tree falls every one runs to cut boughs.
When the tree falls everyone runs to cut the branches.
If A Tree Falls
If a tree falls I hope that it falls on the grass
If a tree falls I hope that it falls in the lake
If a tree falls I hope that it doesn't fall on top of me
If a tree falls I hope that it doesn't fall on the roof of the houses
poem by Aldo Kraas
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123
From the bowery to the brimstone
I tried to find your heart
With drugs of initiation
The bottom of a barrel that drops
I understand your causes
Sympathize the motivation
But all the details of this war
Are just self-infatuation
And its 1 2 3
Nothings for free
4 5 6
Pick up the sticks and go home
Manic blood runs thick my friend
Are you looking for a clean escape
Whats left when the locks have all been broken
Young children of authority
Now how long can you be agile
Dancing between the alter and the mercy seat
Yeah now heres a chance to make a choice
Are you aware of the fire beneath your feet
1 2 3
Nothings for free
4 5 6
Pick up the sticks and go home
The basement lies within us
Our fear comes through the door
Now theres nothing left between us
As the fear becomes a roar
Once that wheel is in motion
Dont you lose what you have found
Im talking about that burning wheel of tongues
Everything that makes it go round and round
Were all born in the devils scorn
They want to see you die
Im asking you are you true
Everything they say is a lie
Its a lie
1 2 3
Nothings for free
4 5 6
Pick up the sticks and go
1 2 3
Nothings for free
4 5 6
Pick up the sticks and go
1 2 3
(were all born)
Nothings for free
(in the devils scorn)
1 2 3
(were all born)
Nothings for free
(in the devils scorn)
Everything they say its a lie
(were all born)
Its a lie now
(in the devils scorn)
Everything they say its a lie
Its a lie now
Pick up the sticks
(pick up the sticks)
Pick up the sticks
(pick up the sticks)
Pick up the sticks
(pick up the sticks)
Pick up the sticks
And go home
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Like A Mango Tree
like a mango tree bearing so many fruits
this month of May
the unruly children gather around
with stones and sticks
and beat each branch
and both the young and
mature fruits fall
without a careful
segregation
what a waste!
the moral lesson is:
do not be too fruitful, just be leaves and twigs.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Bonfire
After this I gather a wooden stick collection,
Burning the sticks of wooden nature.
A fire has rudely devoured the flesh of my world,
The later periods have contrived a short pause.
Please do not desist this activity, when you gather wood,
For my father has been the future, living like warmth
And this fire is within the layers to bind it,
The soul is mighty with grief, the soul has cancer
Of the brain, as for this world.
The fire has risen into the sky, like it is a bonfire
For all to see and imagine, for my father loved the sky
At night when the wooden sticks were burnt
To remind him of the variety of afterlife.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Rain
Rain falling always falling pain hurting never ending
Tear come off tears of sorrow fear after day tomorrow
Cry when there's no use crying goodbye there's no use trying
It all runs together when your love once are gone
And your head spins in circles you're lyin' with your face down and you're afraid
Salvation army band playin' in their all night stand
Rain pourin' from the sky blind people passin' by
No one will help 'em now no one will even try
It all runs together...
This is his time at last (this is his time) his life is fading fast
His faith is fled away (his faith is gone) he tries but cannot break
This is the way we live (this is the way) we take and never give
It all runs together...
Rain falling always falling...
Someone could have helped him but no one would try
Cause their pride wouldn't let them and now he's gonna die there in the rain
Shall we gather at the rain (shall we gather at the river)
song performed by by Kris Kristofferson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Peaceful Waters
The river of life runs long and narrow
with twists and turns here and there.
Sometimes it hits rapids,
sometimes it hit’s a falls,
but the majority of the time it sticks
in peaceful waters where you can rest a while.
There will always be turbulence
when a storm suddenly breaks.
Dark clouds will cover the horizon
and it will send the river on a rough ride.
As soon as the squall has passed,
it will drift again,
to where peaceful waters lay.
7 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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Oh unchanging tree
Such a beautiful thing Is a tree.
In summer, in winter, in spring, in fall
the beauty of a tree, doesn't change at all
The leaves fall to the ground
all the richest beautiful color
can be found
The snow falls
but it doesn't hurt the tree,
it just lays on it's branches
like frosting on a cake
Then it gets warm, the snow melts.
Say goodbye to to winter, say hello to sping.
New life is such a beautiful thing
But so is the tree, the beautiful mighty tree.
That stands alone as the seasons pass
as when you were old or just a lass.
A tree must have a heart, because when it falls to the ground.
No Joy can be found..
So when you see a tree say hello, they can get lonely you know.
Tell them a story, tell them a poem, they will listen.
This I know
poem by Summer Song
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We Gather Together...
We Gather Together...
We gather together...
...for there is strength in your name
We gather together...
...to rekindle the flame
We gather together...
...Your kingdom we claim
We gather together...
...Your words we proclaim
15 Jan 2008
In Praise Of Henna
A KOKILA called from a henna-spray:
Lira! liree! Lira! liree!
Hasten, maidens, hasten away
To gather the leaves of the henna-tree.
Send your pitchers afloat on the tide,
Gather the leaves ere the dawn be old,
Grind them in mortars of amber and gold,
The fresh green leaves of the henna-tree.
A kokila called from a henna-spray:
Lira! liree! Lira! liree!
Hasten maidens, hasten away
To gather the leaves of the henna-tree.
The tilka's red for the brow of a bride,
And betel-nut's red for lips that are sweet;
But, for lily-like fingers and feet,
The red, the red of the henna-tree.
poem by Sarojini Naidu
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Unwilling Witness
i have seen a black bird
high on the leafless tree
and i hear a shot
once twice thrice
and i see the face of the
boy and he runs away
he takes away the black bird
that falls dead on the
pebbled ground
and i follow him
erasing every trace
of his footstep
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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