If I have my way, I'm going to dissolve the Forest Service. They're in the business of harvesting trees and they're not harvesting trees, so why have them anymore?
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I don't know why
On a day like today,
The heaven is soft with dew,
And in trees; birds have eyes crying,
But the air up in the sky was new.
With poppy clouds looking down,
From the broken road out of heaven,
Upon fine lines and pleasant farm,
A blanket of trees canvasses the ground.
There were farmers and shepherds,
Harvesting in the same field,
I don't know why the work was so hard?
Raking the soil and planting seed.
Shepherds find the grassy verge,
Where life is quiet and only soft birds sing,
In trees where they rest and observe,
The broken road to heaven.
poem by Gerry Legister
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Forest For The Trees
When youre a young man, down and out
You really need someone to help you out
It looks like life or death is your only choice
Its really hard to see
The forest for the trees
The forest for the trees
And when you get angry and everythings black or white
You should know that it isnt that simple, no ones always right
You know that youre life it worth living
You gotta start taking if no one else is giving
And if youre not afraid to open your eyes
You may be pleasantly surprised
Thigs are never as bad as they seem
You just gotta learn to see
The forest for the trees
So if you need somebody, tell them please
If you want someone, get up off your knees
Things are never as bad as they seem
You just gotta learn to see
The forest for the trees
song performed by by Huey Lewis And The News
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chocked
Trees above her, below her, to each side of her
Fog obstracting her view, where should she be?
She cannot tell what day it is anymore than she can tell what time it is
which way should she turn?
The fog swallows her feet
When she thinks she has found the right path, she sees an opening...
Then the fog shollows it
She has been mislead again
...and again
......and again
She screams, shes tired, she is choked by the fog, betrayed by the trees
Feels like shes been here forever
Trees that dont talk back anymore
No one is there to guide her
She is lost
The trees and fog are making her second guess every step she makes
mocking her, humilating her, laughing at her
At one time she thought they would lead her
Following each way the breeze decided to sway the trees
Going with the fog because where there is fog there is water
water leads her to place she needs to be
If only the fog was not so thick
if only the trees would talk again
If....If....IF! !
If only she was not lost
The trees and the fog swallows her
Then spits her out when she is nothing more
Nothing is left
Besides a new start
God! Please help me!
poem by Ashley Dowdy
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The Dead Trees
the trees in the forest that you cut
come back
for revenge
the tragedy is that
those that died in that flood with all the dead trees
are the
most innocent
you escape this time
but the trees soon will find you
soon, soon,
i pray.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Garden of Shadow
Love heeds no more the sighing of the wind
Against the perfect flowers: thy garden's close
Is grown a wilderness, where none shall find
One strayed, last petal of one last year's rose.
O bright, bright hair! O mouth like a ripe fruit!
Can famine be so nigh to harvesting?
Love, that was songful, with a broken lute
In grass of graveyards goeth murmuring.
Let the wind blow against the perfect flowers,
And all thy garden change and glow with spring:
Love is grown blind with no more count of hours
Nor part in seed-time nor in harvesting.
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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The Golden Fields Of Rice
soon it will be harvest time
and you will see the women all wrapped in their sarong
their heads covered against the sun
bowing before these golden ricefields harvesting the
produce of their plowing and sowing men
soon it will be another happy hour
of drinking and singing and merry making
some debts will be paid off
the children shall remain in school
delicious dinners shall be served on the table
and happy conversations shall be in place
in the backyards of these working people
soon the fields will be empty again
some dried stalks will be left
some grains remain unpicked
by then it will be summer and the sun
will be so scorching
there will be changes going between the sowing and the harvesting
my faith shall keep staying amidst the cycles of the sun and the rain
the wet and the dry seasons of this tropical place
the mudding and the cracking of the paths
i will always keep going
to walk on like i am bound for a certain destination
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Among the Trees
I wonder lost among the trees
Looking for the one my heart calls for
I wonder lost among the trees
I see your light amongst the dark
I wonder lost among the trees
Your light is brighter then the rest
I wonder lost among the trees
Your light is out of my reach
I wonder lost among the trees
Your light comes closer
I wonder lost among the trees
Your light is bright like an angel from the sky
I wonder lost among the trees
Your light fades away and leaves me alone
I wonder lost among the trees
Without a hand to guide the way
I wonder lost among the trees
Looking for my guiding light
I wonder lost among the trees
I wonder lost, alone
I wonder afraid of the world
Around me I look for the one
I wonder lost among the trees
I wonder lost and alone forever...................................
poem by kelly Martini
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Choked
Trees above her, below her, to each side of her
Fog obstructing her view, where should she be?
She cannot tell what day it is any more than she can tell what time it is
Which way should she turn?
The fog swallows her feet
When she thinks she has found the right path, she sees an opening...
Then the fog swallows it
She has been misled again
...and again
......and again
She screams, she’s tired; she is choked by the fog, betrayed by the trees
Feels like she’s been here forever
Trees that don’t talk back anymore
No one is there to guide her
She is lost
The trees and fog are making her second guess every step she makes
Mocking her, humiliating her, laughing at her
At one time she thought they would lead her
Following each way the breeze decided to sway the trees
Going with the fog because where there is fog there is water
Water leads her to place she needs to be
If only the fog was not so thick
if only the trees would talk again
If....If....IF! !
If only she was not lost
The trees and the fog swallows her
Then spits her out when she is nothing more
Nothing is left
Besides a new start
God! Please help me!
poem by Ashley Joyce Forbus
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Imaginary Creatures
In this make believe world
imaginary creatures dangle from the trees
In a forest where emotions run free
For what they feel they never agree
It`s a future they will never see
In a forest with closed doors
The imaginary creature holds the key
To a future that will never be
So as i walk this forest of make believe
I search no more for what i see
It`s just creatures dangling from the trees
In a life that will be as they see
So i`ll just leave this forest be
And search no more for that key
poem by Joseph Whelan
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Harvest
Autumn feeds with harvest
Birds, animals and human beings.
It brings breakfast, lunch and dinner,
It brings the sweetest things.
Autumn in the gardens,
Autumn in the wood…
Nature has prepared all kinds of food.
Harvesting is pleasant!
Harvesting is good!
Happy is a peasant,
Happy is a wood!
Mice collect the grain,
Bees collect the honey,
Granny makes a jam,
Winter will be funny
Without any flam.
Apples in the cellar,
Grape turns into wine.
We are nature’s dwellers,
We all want to dine.
Gathering gifts of nature
You’ll avoid the hunger,
You will be much stronger,
You will look much younger.
Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
The 7th of September,2011
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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A lazy man will remember he has not planted when is neighbour is harvesting.
Pollution is nothing but the resources we are not harvesting. We allow them to disperse because we've been ignorant of their value.
quote by R. Buckminster Fuller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Each in their turn forM 'lady Dee
Now autumn has passed. The old years dying
the harvest’s safely gathered in and stored.
The labourers have earned their just reward.
The breezes now no longer softly sighing
but as bitter winds are trying.
To break the trees like straws, without remorse.
Men are no longer working out of doors
but inside for tool repairing.
In preparation for the quickening,
when the spring sunshine banishes the snow.
In his full majesty all conquering
the sun dictates that it is time to sow
the seed to grow for future harvesting.
The seasons cycle yearly sure but slow.
12-Jun-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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After Being Guided
Being unable to see the forest for the trees,
After being guided to where that forest begins...
There is so much more than trees,
Out of one's perspective...
That an assistance with a helping to connect,
Painted colored dots to make clear those 'differences'...
Would be too late and a waste of time,
To clean one's attic of debris.
It's 'never' too late?
Well...
Unfortunately,
For a lot of folks...
This will not be a matter for them to confront to consider.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The USDA And Trichinella Worms
At the USDA
they don't care
how trichinella worms
squirm
in the flesh
of butchered innocent pigs.
They have muzzled the truth about
Mad Cow, Mad Pig, Mad Chicken,
Mad Deer, Mad Fish, Mad Sheep,
Mad Elk etc.
Through the USDA Forest Service
old trees which have stood
for centuries, (one of the last 700 year old
cedars) were cut
down
.We are the land of skinny trees.
The Forest Service sets
'controlled burn' fires..
when the wind changes
fires have destroyed millions
of acres.
The USDA does not enforce
the lab inspection laws.
The result is animal agony,
filthy labs, and redundant
research.
This regime selected Ann
Veneman from the American
Meat Institute to be its head.
Now as the head of UNICEF
she is trying to poison the
world's children with
cadavers of animal flesh
Their agents have destroyed
food
coops in Washington,
infiltrated vegetarian and
vegan groups.
********
Whether under Dan Glickman, Ann Veneman, Ed Schafer
the USDA policy has remained the same.
poem by O. Anna Niemus
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Your soul is a dark forest. But the trees are of a particular species, they are genealogical trees.
quote by Marcel Proust
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Votes are like trees, if you are trying to build a forest. If you have more trees than you have forests, then at that point the pollsters will probably say you will win.
quote by Dan Quayle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Those Pains
we finally situate
beyond the threshold of pain
we sit on a chair
look over the window
extend our view to the sea
till the horizon
we familiarize with what
pains too do
with the shores and the
forest
the trees and the
grass
then we look again inward
like the entrails of
the chicken
we feel nothing anymore
those pains have
become a part of our skin
they don't do any harm
anymore
we don't even notice
whether they are still here
or they are gone
for good forever
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Song of the woods
For a time the birds
and the trees
and animals dwelt in me,
but then came man.
Axes and saws
started to chop and bite
and as trees fell,
there wasn’t a place
safe for animals to be.
Time swept past
and man’s machines
started to carve
right trough trees.
Trees fell faster
than any could grow
and the climate was altered
by man and his machines.
Lost was the air
that had risen from me
and the forest rain dwindled
and a scorching sun
started to batter me.
The world of old is lost
and most of the trees are gone
and clouds of pollution
blankets the world.
poem by Gert Strydom
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398
words like a forest hide me
and you will not see me crying
because my eyes have become leaves
without tearglands
words like a wall of rain cover
my weeping with the sound of its heavy rainfall
and you cannot hear me anymore
except the tender sound of a shower
and the rolling of the accompanying thunder
now i have grown words like a garden of grass
and some seeds are groomed to become trees
now i have kept my words like wild vines
and climbers and they cover everything about
my grief and lamentations
now you ask me where i am, ask my words
oh they will not tell you. You are my pain.
And there is no word equivalent to your name
anymore in this forest, in this grassy garden.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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