The places that are most likely to grow trees for carbon sequestration are places where trees aren't growing now.
quote by Robert Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Trees of Darkness
The trees of darkness are tall, wise and livid with rage,
A cheese slice is covering our eyes then the tree-cage.
Black trees are not yellow, red and orange
But the slice of fun moved like a lunge.
I plunge into leaves of Autumn, faults of time,
Carrying my food with my mouth and crime.
Trees grow forward in time, and we shall be divine
In different places, diverse views are taken to align.
Dark places will spoil the view and place,
But why do some people define this space?
poem by Naveed Akram
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Carbon Sinks
I think that I shall never see
a better Carbon Sink than M.I.T.’s
It helps keep green house gas at bay
By sequestering it away
The Carbon Sink works like a tree
but does it more efficiently
When trees in wintertime are bare
The Carbon Sink still cleans the air
And trees can yield up carbon once again
When Forest fires make them burn
Poems are made by fools like me
But Carbon Sinks are made by M.I.T
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Hawaiian
SANDALWOOD, you say, and in your thoughts it chimes
With Tyre and Solomon; to me it rhymes
With places bare upon Pacific mountains,
With spaces empty in the minds of men.
Sandalwood!
The Kings of Hawaii call out their men,
The men go up the mountains in files;
Hands that knew only the stone axe now wield the iron axe:
The sandalwood trees go down.
More sandalwood is called for:
The men who hunt the whale will buy sandalwood;
The Kings would change canoes for ships.
Men come down from the mountains carrying sandalwood on their backs;
More and more men are levied;
They go up the mountains in files; they leave their taropatches so that famine comes down on the land.
But this sandalwood grows upon other trees, a parasite;
It needs a growing thing to grow upon;
Its seed and its soil are not enough for it!
Too greedy are the Kings;
Too eager are the men who hunt the whale to sail to
Canton with fragrant wood to make shrines for the
Buddhas;
Too sharp is the iron axe!
Nothing will ever bring together again
The spores and the alien sap that nourished them,
The trees and the trees they would plant themselves
upon:
Like the myths of peoples,
Like the faiths of peoples,
Like the speech of peoples,
Like the ancient creation chants,
The sandalwood is gone!
A fragrance in shrines
But the trees will never live again!
poem by Padraic Colum
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Soul Dance
I will dance with you
It will be the dance of my soul
I will be open and honest
Show you my inner being
I will trust you
Take you to places in my soul that have been broken and restored
Places that cause pain and healing
Places that have hated and loved
Places I have forgotten and remembered
Places I have not visited in a long time and places I go every day
I will dance with you the dance of my soul
And feel your soul dance with mine to those same places in yours
poem by Mandi Ducroq
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Where Trees Are, I Am!
Just trees will grow in shapes that please,
My shapes do grow like limbs;
Eyes see, ears hear - abilities!
But trees possess just whims.
Where trees are, I am! So you are
The one with limbs, the one
Who swears with words always bizarre,
Phrases of prediction.
The plants called trees are super-wise,
The stalks are trunks profound,
Their limbs and roots also advise,
The trees are aboveground.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Let Me Grow Lovely
Let me grow lovely, growing old--
So many fine things do:
Laces, and ivory, and gold,
And silks need not be new;
And there is healing in old trees,
Old streets a glamour hold;
Why may not I, as well as these,
Grow lovely, growing old?
poem by Karle Wilson Baker
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Whispers of trees
Trees whisper of the coming winter
Leaves mutter among themselves
Seasons silently steal upon us…
As Falling streams from rocky shelves
Soft sibilant sighs, indistinct…incoherent
Nature’s voices, spoken through the dells
It’s the trees whisper… of the coming winter
The voices of Trolls, faeries and elves
Branches freeing…captive leaves fleeing
Limbs bleakly waving…in poignant farewell
Listen closely! …to the trees soft whisper
Of places of mystery…where legends dwell
Trees whisper the coming winter
Voices elusive…secretive as well
Hear the murmur of the wooded heart…
muted tumble of an acorn shell
Trees whisper…coming winter…
Tales that only trees can tell
poem by David Whalen
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We are moving to places where our hands still touch
What you did was make this yard of cement
Some hard posts and high fences and barbwires
You call it safety; you call it clean to see
There will be no shrubs, no trees, just this
Big house and empty rooms, a garage full
Of cars, some phones and TV walls
We move to other places then since we disagree
We leave this place of cement and fences and walls
We move to the hills where we still have our trees
Our long winding rivers, the rocks and grass
The winds and skies, we move to places where
The birds are not caged, where they sing the sweetest songs
Where we and the rest of us are free
Where on mountaintops and cliffs and drifting clouds
Our hands still touch & shake the Hands of God.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The symbiosis
Your man and my woman
Stand there as two trees above,
We both, as their roots below,
Feed each other to nourish
Our trees above to flourish.
Unaware, they, too, aren’t in anguish.
Is not it fit for us to cherish
In that because of you, me and
Because of me, you, grow rich
In our luster to entice our partners?
One can fence the shoots;
Can one, the roots?
One can guard the bodies.
Can one, the hearts?
29.06.1999 Pala29.06.99
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Growing Upward
A small tree began to grow
Many impressions were pressed
Into the sapling’s brow and soul
Some gladden…others distressed
Its roots deepen and limbs strengthen
Innocently growing in the shadows
Hearing whispers from grown trees
Seeking an ideal model to follow
Wondering how it would be
To learn without a slanted view
Witnessing life freely with honesty
Deciding for it’s self what to do
Stretching high…reaching the sky
The warming sunlight embraces
Encouraging nest building and song
Robust branches tower over dark places
8/4/09
poem by Theresa Ann Moore
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Sonnet: Let Goodness Always Prevail
The mammoth trees are cut for timber's sake;
Large trees along the roads are felled as well;
The smaller ones in wild now grow and swell;
Then clouds to pour the rain, how can God make!
When virtues aren't nurtured in life sometime,
Then vices grow with vengeance in man's heart;
When bells of praise and hymns to God don't chime,
Blessings and grace from heaven can't depart.
When man's good deeds are stopped for reasons much,
His sins grow from a mole to mountain size;
How can the Maker's favours ever touch,
As sins abound and soul afills with vice?
For God to bless, our righteousness must grow,
And seeds of virtues, good deeds, one must sow!
poem by John Celes
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This Is Just One Of Those Places
the pond is gone
what took place was a change
that replaced it with
concrete pavements
the lanzones trees totally
vanished
i can still hear the cutting
machines
shouting victory for change
what the sowed instead
are low cost houses
thriving like mushrooms
this is just one of those places
that the heart wants to remember
but who cares?
many may not have known that from
the heart of this ruined place
once bore the great writer and poetess
when once a child
she bathed in that pond
gathered ripe guavas from those trees
rested under the shade of
the mabolo tree
composed the great lines
that we still love to read till these days
of our great depression
many will not remember anymore
but once there were dwellers here
in peace and harmony with
nature and themselves
oh, all of them have gone to other places
and we who have turned to stone
have no way of finding once again their traces.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Old Door Of Ancestry
it is an old door,
the jams are eaten by termites
the lock is not working
the hinges are rusty
and without the frame of my hands
it will just fall
as pieces
i imagine the house back
to restore
our ancestry, and i travel to places
to gather
what memories are left
the old men in those far places
are telling me stories
my notebook is swelling like
a river of tears
about to flood the banks of my
heart
many have abandoned
what the house of ancestry has to offer
there is nothing to eat
there and no one is cooking
some
noble concoctions
i am the son of Gregorio and my
grandfather is Domingo
who is one of the five children
of Juan who was married
to Rosa
they sailed away from
Maribujoc
and it was Modesto's rebellion
that carried them
away
to the island of Mindanao
and they cut the trees of the forest
built their homes
and cared for
their families
now i am moving places
into some other places of
no interest
the hours are fading
and the heirlooms are forgotten
i am looking for my roots
for i do not have what i call my own
i knock at the old broken door
of my ancestry
asking for pity.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In My Time
(copyright nazareth, tiflis tunes,inc.-ascap)
In my life theres places Ive seen,
Places Ive been in my life.
In my life theres things I have done,
Times I have won in my life.
Ships I have known,
Winds that have blown.
In my time were people who cared,
People who shared in my time,
Welcomed the good accepted the bad,
Enjoyed what I had in my time.
People Ive known
Times on my own
And now Im growing old,
In memory I can hold
My picture book unfolds and i
Can feel myself grow cold.
In my life theres times to forget,
Things to regret in my life,
May have done wrong but tried to do right
I followed the light in my life,
But now the lights grow dim,
My days are closing in.
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Small Trees
I am little like the small trees,
These are at least bigger than flowering plants,
The richness of theirs is far superior to us.
Since they are richer and we are taller,
The magnificent colours shine as they do.
Greenness is our nature as trees,
Whilst they are always colourful
More than us.
The tree of bigness is a lethal organ,
One we sit by and watch growing older.
Then the small trees subjugate the other trees
Far smaller, but we are supposed to respect
The bigger trees, they are certainly not the biggest.
The best of us are longer in health,
Whilst I am little for I am a small tree.
poem by Naveed Akram
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My beautiful flowering trees
My beautiful flowering trees
One day I shall buy some land
Plant countless seeds
And watch them grow
Into beautiful flowering trees
A cool breeze
Will bring me
Sweet fragrances
From a thousand flowering trees
I shall listen
To the songs
From birds perched
In the tall flowering trees
I shall play
With my children and theirs
In the vast expanse of green
Amongst beautiful flowering trees
One day I shall rest
Passing into oblivion
My ashes scattered
Amidst the beautiful flowering trees
by Ash (Rishi's Dad)
poem by Rishi Menon
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A Pleasant Autumn Day
A pleasant Autumn day of wind and sunshine
And yellow leaves depart their trees and fall
To Mother Earth who silently receives them
And wattlebirds on flowering gum trees call.
On this quiet side street of inner suburbia
The leaves are dying on the deciduous tree
But were i a poet I'd put my pen to paper
And write of the great beauty that i see.
For Nature's beauty can be found in strangest places
Far from the countryside it can be seen
Deciduous trees are golden brown in Autumn
And gums and wattles rich and evergreen.
And many urban people too love Mother Nature
And of workings of Nature there is much to know
They love to hear the birds sing in their gardens
And take pride in plants and trees they helped to grow
I respect those who respect Mother Nature
The damage done to her they try to mend
For Nature brings her beauty to all Seasons
And to every Nature lover I'm a friend.
In quiet side street in inner suburbia
Deciduous leaves to Mother Earth drift down
And wattlebirds are calling on the gum trees
And Mother Nature too lives in the town.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Carbon, carbon, carbon.
Diamond is nothing but carbon
All organs are made of carbon.
Organisms’ food is carbon.
Carbon burns to give out carbon
15.04.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Places in the Heart
There are places in the heart,
that are still unmarred by
understanding -
those places that we have
kept hidden for so long
from all those prying eyes,
prowling in the darkness -
There are places in the heart,
filled with childhood memories
of laughter and joy,
hope and new beginnings,
those places that we revisit
secretly and tenderly,
those places that make us
feel alive again -
There are places in the heart
that know no boundaries,
no limitations, but unrestrained
happiness of a smiling child,
filled with wonder and love
for the world, feeling both
godlike and tiny, overtaken
by the invisible presence
that permeates the moon
and the countless stars -
There are places in the heart,
where life is filled with miracles
and questions lead to more
questions, prompted by infinite
curiosity and the desire to know
the essence of things,
there are places that only
you and I know,
those places that remind us
who we really are -
For we are the essence
of life's joy and discovery,
truth and beauty, love and
tenderness, that penetrates
the cracks of a fractured world,
we are those places in the heart
that know no end and no beginning,
but love and only love,
that sings through us like
warm summer rain.
poem by Alexander Shaumyan
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