Character is like a tree and reputation like its shadow. The shadow is what we think of it the tree is the real thing.
quote by Abraham Lincoln
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Character is like a tree and reputation like a shadow. The shadow is what we think of it; the tree is the real thing.
quote by Abraham Lincoln
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shadow Me
Shadow me oh my
Dark emotion.
Shadow me all the way!
Shadow me to rock
In cradle heart,
To sway and just to sway!
Shadow me as a
Shady love tree,
In my hot, scorching day!
Shadow me must in,
Middle of night,
Like a gleaming pure ray!
Shadow me, shadow,
My foggy love,
Shadow wild me to tame.
Shadow to follow
My every step,
Shadow me in each poem!
poem by Nilakshi Das
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fantasy...
A tree and its shadow
And a dreamy meadow
Waiting for someone....
The Shadow asks ' how is she doing? '
Tree whispers ' shhh! sleeping'
'oops! sorry' says shadow and waits
waiting...they are for the flower that sleeps
on a thin green brunch of the tree
The tree, now drowsy, as sun
Readies itself to set, for the night
and the little shadow? it grows unwatched
With the dimming light
The Tree sleeps,
The meadow sleeps
Huts sleep
and the man inside it
Is in slumber too
Tiny little shadow grows into night
Embraces life with darkness punctured with lights
Dawn Awakes
Sun rays come running back to the tree
Tree asks 'my shadow? where IS he? '
the Tallest palm tree, sky abreast
says 'i think I saw him running northwest! '
The Shadow creeps in and stands upon a pebble
Says ' i wana see...i wana see! ' with boyish charm
Then The flower finally falls
Into shadow's lap
'shh! she's still taking a nap! '
says tree to his friend
Wind blows, it wants to play with her
The sleeping beauty, The flower
'Look! Look! ...she's smiling!
She's happy! she must be dreaming! '
The shadow hushes, excited!
A girl comes out of the hut...
Takes the flower, the sweet, from Shadows lap
What will you do with her, little girl?
She's taking a nap! '
'I'll play with it', the little girl says
The Shadow starts crying
The tree wishpers...
' dont cry dear...let it be...
Tommorrow morning You'll see
Our flower is back with us
On your lap she's lying!
Night comes again
Tree and its shadow sleeps
with Dreamy smiles on their lips
Dawn brings light to the tree and shadow
They wake up and see
Adorned with Dew drops like some rare gems
Their Sweet little flower is back with them!
poem by Saurabh Som
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shadow Man
No one knows you but they all love you
Just don't let them get too much of you
Careful man
Don't forget you're the shadow man
Look how many beleave they need you
Look how many tried to read you
No one can
You get off on it shadow man
And so you smile your smile
And fool those fools you care about
You've got it all
You've got the whole thing figured out
Well haven't you?
Just confuse'em with smoke and static
Make'em think that you enigmatic
That's the plan
You're the best at it shadow man
And when anyone penetrated
The illusion that you created
Off you ran
You're too fast for them
Shadow man
No emotional complication
That would ruin your reputation
Every fan
Needs a fantasy shadow man
If they could see behind the smile
And find the fear and doubt
They'd turn away
They'd have the whole think figured out
Well%2
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When the shadow of a tree is bent, straighten the tree, not the shadow.
Shadow and Light Source Both
How does a part of the world leave the world?
How does wetness leave water?
Dont' try to put out fire by throwing on
more fire! Don't wash a wound with blood.
No matter how fast you run, your shadow
keeps up. Sometimes it's in front!
Only full overhead sun diminishes your shadow.
But that shadow has been serving you.
What hurts you, blesses you. Darkness is
your candle. Your boundaries are your quest.
I could explain this, but it will break the
glass cover on your heart, and there's no
fixing that.
You must have shadow and light source both.
Listen, and lay your head under the tree of awe.
When from that tree feathers and wings sprout on you,
be quieter than a dove. Don't even open your mouth for
even a coo.
A White Architect Of Light
8.8.88: She came back from the land of democrative destiny and dissolved
into the chaotic void.
Fighting for the freedom of reality
Building the light house in the darkest hours of life
Fixing up the spiritual essence through the existential nothingness
in the valueless zone
Layers by layers, realities of life theatre are turned into distilled light
out of trapped reflections
Mother of modern Myanmar honoured by consciencious tree of life
Curving away all the unnecessary parts
Curving away all the necessary parts
Communication revolution of the 21 st century
Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
COOL full TREE's
Tree's
Are
Ntaure' fan...'s...!
Fun of
Tree's...
To
The earth...!
To
Sun fire
Hot...
Catching
Green full
Umberlaw's...
The tree's...
Simply
Earth
Evean joy
Tree's...
Air counition
Of tree's
Shadow..
Hut
The sun fre
Cool full...
Collor full...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Chanpa Flower
Supposing I became a chanpa flower, just for fun, and grew on a
branch high up that tree, and shook in the wind with laughter and
danced upon the newly budded leaves, would you know me, mother?
You would call, "Baby, where are you?" and I should laugh to
myself and keep quite quiet.
I should slyly open my petals and watch you at your work.
When after your bath, with wet hair spread on your shoulders,
you walked through the shadow of the champ tree to the little court
where you say your prayers, you would notice the scent of the
flower, but not know that it cane from me.
When after the midday meal you sat at the window reading
ramayana, and the tree's shadow fell over your hair and your lap,
I should fling my wee little shadow on to the page of your book,
just where you were reading.
But would you guess that it was the tiny shadow of your
little child?
When in the evening you went to the cow shed with the lighted
lamp in your hand I should suddenly drop on to the earth again and
be your own baby once more, and beg you to tell me a story.
"Where have you been, you naughty child?"
"I won't tell you, mother." That's what you and I would say
then.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Not exact
Shadows are not exact but real
You can’t force it or conceal
It may be even longer than size
You must think it wise
It may accompany where you go and turn
You stand, sleep or even run
It has same strength and reflection
Think over it and base your action
A tree’s shadow proves it is standing.
A bird follows its shadow and knows it is flying.
My shadow proved that I have existence
I am living in present tense
What has it do with my being on earth?
I cease to exist upon natural death
I follow on every step and prove
That I am real and follow or move
The story doesn’t end with non existence
Its impact may follow even without insistence
People may follow on what has been left behind
They will try to know the shadow of wisdom and find
So it stays even if you are dead
Your message is accepted and widely read
Single word is enough to give impetus or lead
You have formed some link by providing the thread
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Ego Tree
What tree would has grown in our land?
What leaves the tree would be growing?
The tree feels pain which must stand by its self
In rainy days, snowy days, windy days...
Only standing by its self is painful
But the sunshine is not lavish to give the grace
But the ego tree only standing for its self can't know the shadow of its self
In thick, in dark, in cold...
My Shadow
Hey there shadow
What's it feel like to be the shadow of me?
Following me around
Head facing down
Got no way of saying
Exactly how you're feeling
In the dark, all the time
What's on your mind?
The shadow
Shadow of me
You're the only one
Who does exactly as i do
Capture every movement
Memorise my fear
You're forever here
By my side
The shadow
Shadow of me
poem by Lucy Vernezze
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Tree in a Field
There once was a tree,
A tree alone in a field.
And as that tree grew
It got bigger than all 'round.
And people would often stop
Just to look at that tree,
That tree in a field.
Till one day one person,
Went and cut down that tree,
That tree in a field.
And you know what?
That tree learned one thing
Don't stand too tall too fast,
Or someone just might
Cut you down.
poem by Matthew Tener Wade
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When I was only three I planted a tree
When I was three I planted a tree. This was my tree and together we would always be. I gave it love and it to me, and so we were happy, me and my tree.
Then one day they came to see me and my tree. Men with no faces, and they said to me, you must go, and leave this tree.
Buy why I ask. For we've done no harm. Me and my tree, please let us be.
So they left us alone, me and my tree, but only for a while but I could not see.
Then one day they came and took me away. My tree was needed to save the day. Goods it will make it makes perfect sense. So we will take this tree, for wood we need. And so it was done, they took my tree.
And now I look around, my tree I no longer see. Taken from, this tree I planted when I was three.
poem by Brad Milner
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Generations
You are like the stem
Of a young beech-tree,
Straight and swaying,
Breaking out in golden leaves.
Your walk is like the blowing of a beech-tree
On a hill.
Your voice is like leaves
Softly struck upon by a South wind.
Your shadow is no shadow, but a scattered sunshine;
And at night you pull the sky down to you
And hood yourself in stars.
But I am like a great oak under a cloudy sky,
Watching a stripling beech grow up at my feet.
poem by Amy Lowell
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Shadow Of The River
As I look around under the shady trees breezy atop the river
Even as the shadows of the tree are seen in it like a mirrror
My curious nature got more of me as i ask myself where is the shadow of the river?
Why does it create shadow for other nature like itself and keep its own shadow hidden?
I said to myself as I look into the river, a glared around into the forest and its horror
And it becomes clear to me that Even the river brings calmness to evil wherever it finds itself.
So i found my answer.
The shadow of the river is in its calmness, the gentle flow that puts your heart to rest even when it overwhelms you.
Its contradiction to body temprature and yet so agreeable.
Under the shady leaves and the calmness around, i have found the shadow of the river.
poem by Yewande Adedokun
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A Thing Just A Thing
things only seem to be what they are
when they try so hard to convince
they ask the help of light to cast some shadows
and if they can only speak they will say:
'you see, i am true
i am real, i am casting a shadow'
in my doubt, i touch a thing in you
there is nothing there but only a thing
and i tell you
'you are only a thing with a shadow
i haven't touched a heart'
and then i hear the silence
and then there was calm and quiet
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Aeroplane and Its Shadow
An hour before noon
Southward bound
Aircraft in landing mode
I look out the window
Lo behold
Tree tops and buildings
And the green meadows
A moving shadow
Follows my flight
A few hundred miles
An hour I move
Speed of the shadow
Matches my speed.
No light, no shadow
Nor an eclipse
Life without shadow's
Life without light
Light, object, shadow
An intimate link.
Runway in sight
Chase continues
Anxious wait's
For the moment of truth
When the faithful shadow
Will meet its master
Object from space
With amazing grace
A welcome voice
Relief on face
Jouney's segment
Happy and safe.
poem by Tirupathi Chandrupatla
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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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The Shadow
The shadow of your threshold is so full
Of meaning, that the stranger knows what home
Is yours, if peace dwell here, or strife, or restless
Unsatisfied ambition. As the tree's
Deep shadow meaneth rest and comfort, or
Is poison, sleep eternal, such the house
That is a home's sweet shadow or a dark
Abode of sin, of lurking lie and danger.
The shadow of your life, that is so small
In bright midday and summer's burning sun,
Begins to lengthen when your evening comes,
And shows the beauty of the tree in outline,
Its graceful forms, its harmony and power;
And never did its beauty strike before,
As now, when lost in thought, you contemplate
The shadow on the lawn. The golden rays
That flood it, make it higher, nobler, and
Its shadow ever greater, till the night
Calls forth the moon, to make it deep and weird
As if unspoken pain had darkened it,
As if the silvery paleness of the moon
Sharpened its features into hardness almost.
Behold the shadow of thy life! Look well if
It be a threshold that reveals the strong
Unbending will, the height of all your aims,
Your passions' darkness, and the harmony
Of all the branches that were put into
Your care! Look at the shadow when your day
Is done, and winter's moon will draw its line
In naked truth, without the flattering leaves
Upon your windingsheet's unruffled snow.
poem by Carmen Sylva
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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