A hypocrite is the kind of politician who would cut down a redwood tree, then mount the stump and make a speech for conservation.
quote by Adlai E. Stevenson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Nixon is the kind of politician who would cut down a redwood tree, then mount the stump for a speech on conservation.
quote by Adlai Stevenson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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381
i
Many kiss the hand
they wish cut off
ii
we despise the pleasure of pleasing people
whom we despise
iii
The lips are smiling,
but is the heart?
iv
A hypocrite is the kind of politician
who would cut down a redwood tree,
then mount the stump
and make a speech
for conservation
v
The value of an idea
has nothing to do
with the success
of the man
who expresses it.
vi
It is with pious fraud
as with a bad action;
it begets
a calamitous necessity
of going on.
vii
Every man alone is sincere;
at the entrance of a second person
hypocrisy begins.
viii
The wolf was sick,
he vowed a monk to be-
But when he got well,
a wolf once more was he.
ix
It is a trick among
the dishonest to offer
sacrifices that are not needed,
or not possible,
to avoid making
x
For neither man
nor angel can discern hypocrisy,
the only evil
that walks invisible.
those that are required.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To The Hypocrite
i
Many kiss the hand
they wish cut off
ii
we despise the pleasure of pleasing people
whom we despise
iii
The lips are smiling,
but is the heart?
iv
A hypocrite is the kind of politician
who would cut down a redwood tree,
then mount the stump
and make a speech
for conservation
v
The value of an idea
has nothing to do
with the success
of the man
who expresses it.
vi
It is with pious fraud
as with a bad action;
it begets
a calamitous necessity
of going on.
vii
Every man alone is sincere;
at the entrance of a second person
hypocrisy begins.
viii
The wolf was sick,
he vowed a monk to be-
But when he got well,
a wolf once more was he.
ix
It is a trick among
the dishonest to offer
sacrifices that are not needed,
or not possible,
to avoid making
x
For neither man
nor angel can discern hypocrisy,
the only evil
that walks invisible.
those that are required.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Redwood Tree
Boy and his dog
Went out looking for the rainbow
You know what did they learn
Since that very day
Walking by the river
And running like a blue streak
Through the fields of streams and meadows
Laughing all the way
Oh redwood tree
Please let us under
When we were young we used to go
Under the redwood tree
And it smells like rain
Maybe even thunder
Wont you keep us from all harm
Wonderful redwood tree
And a boy and his father
Went out, went out looking for the lost dog
You know what oh havent they learned
Since they did that together
They did not bring him back
He already had departed
But look at everything they have learned
Since that, since that very day
Oh redwood tree
Please let us under
When we were young we used to go
Under the redwood tree
And it smells like rain
Maybe even thunder
Wont you keep us from all harm
Wonderful redwood tree
Ta da da da...
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am No Politician
I am no politician.
I am direct.
Every blemish and flaw I have,
I accept without regret.
I am not trying to win your approval
To represent your requests.
Nor will I disappoint you...
With deceit to later confess.
I am no politician.
Seeking a way to line my pockets.
I find that disgusting!
And I observe those who can not stop it!
Your quality of life...
With standards you behold.
Isn't my fault at all!
That your best interests,
They have sold!
You selected them to dismiss me.
To keep me and mine in check!
You elected them to suppress my dignity.
To keep my indentity distressed.
You chose them to divide and conquer.
By rules and laws
They clearly defied...
You now regret!
Why me...
You despise?
I am no politician!
My priorities are my happiness.
Not to masquerade with pretentions...
For purposes to make promises,
With intentions to forget.
I am no politician...
To trap you like prey.
And dangle you to capture...
As I make arrangements with others,
To take away the safety from your nests.
To portray in false charades.
I am no politician.
So voice your anger,
To those you believed...
Would come to your aid.
While on your knees you plead.
I am no politician!
I sleep at night.
In peace and at rest!
I am no politician...
Nor a hypocrite you will find,
Who will say something other
Than what is on my mind!
You can bet,
With respect...
I am direct.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Green Monkey
When the deep blue night is running close on your track
And you can feel the green monkey crawlin across your back
Dont take me so real that you forget how to feel
Dont let the threat of the dagger turn your heart into steel
Smell the perfume of the silent dream
Fly the ocean, read a story to me
Speak the wisdom of a redwood tree
Speak to me
So you think that star cluster shining bright in the sky
Will speak the fate of your evening, tell the truth to your lie
Dont let the features you read control the tickets you buy
Soon as you learn that you live, youre just beginning to die
Smell the perfume of the silent dream
Fly the ocean, read a story to me
Speak the wisdom of a redwood tree
Speak to me
Smell the perfume of the silent dream
Fly the ocean, read a story to me
Speak the wisdom of a redwood tree
Speak to me
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The boy and the apple tree
Once there was a boy who used to play under an apple tree
He played so happily that it was a joy to see
As he grew old, he got bore of playing alone
Toys and gadgets he desired to be his own
So, under the apple tree the boy muttered
‘Tree can you give me toys I now desire? ’
‘Toys I don’t have, my boy, ’ the tree replied
‘But my fruits you can sell to get your toys.’
So the boy took the fruits and went away
The tree waited for his return day after day
Many years had passed and the boy got older
He married a girl to be his wife and lover
The adult boy now needing a new house for his family
Went to the tree and asked for its advice earnestly
The tree glad to see him once again said
‘My branches will be sufficient to make your nest.’
To these words the adult boy listened
And took all the branches away with him
With these he constructed a house for his family
Where he lived for several years happily
One day, the boy now a fully mature adult thought
‘It will be wise to travel around and sail the sea across’
So, he went to the now old apple tree and asked
‘Tree, can you tell me, a boat, where I can get? ’
The tree which was happy to see him again sighed and said
‘Though I am old, my stem you may take if you want’
On hearing this, the guy cut the tree down
And made a large boat, which was fine and strong
Many years had passed and the guy now became an old man
Tired from his adventures across the sea and land
He went and saw the apple tree once again
Which was now but a stump nobody would want
The old stump on seeing the old man cried
‘My old boy what can I do for you this time’
The old man on hearing this softly replied
‘I just want to lean against you till the end of my life.’
poem by Henry Chen
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California Saga/big Sur
Do do do do do do do do do
Cashmere hills filled with evergreens
Flowin from the clouds down to meet the sea
With the granite cliff
(big sur mount)
As a referee
Crimson sunsets and golden dawns
A mother deer with their newborn fawns
All under big sur skies
(big sur mount)
Thats where I belong.
Big sur Ive got plans for you
Me and mine are going to
Add ourselves to your lengthy list of lovers
(big sur mount)
And live in canyons covered in springtime green
Wild birds and flowers to be heard and seen
And with my old guitar
Ill make up songs to sing.
Where bubbling springs from the mountainside
Join the big sur river to the oceanside
Where the kids can look for sea shells at low tide
Big sur my astrology it says that I am made to be
Where the rugged mountain meets the water
And so while stars shine brightly from up above
The fog rolls in through a redwood grove
And to my dying fire I think Ill add a log.
From time to time I must go away
The thoughts of big sur wont let me stay
Away from big sur
Oh big sur
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Big Sur
Do do do do do do do do do
Cashmere hills filled with evergreens
Flowin from the clouds down to meet the sea
With the granite cliff
(big sur mount)
As a referee
Crimson sunsets and golden dawns
A mother deer with their newborn fawns
All under big sur skies
(big sur mount)
Thats where I belong.
Big sur Ive got plans for you
Me and mine are going to
Add ourselves to your lengthy list of lovers
(big sur mount)
And live in canyons covered in springtime green
Wild birds and flowers to be heard and seen
And with my old guitar
Ill make up songs to sing.
Where bubbling springs from the mountainside
Join the big sur river to the oceanside
Where the kids can look for sea shells at low tide
Big sur my astrology it says that I am made to be
Where the rugged mountain meets the water
And so while stars shine brightly from up above
The fog rolls in through a redwood grove
And to my dying fire I think Ill add a log.
From time to time I must go away
The thoughts of big sur wont let me stay
Away from big sur
Oh big sur
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Which Tree Am I?
Which tree, Which tree, Which tree Am I?
Do gaunt limbs swing high upon my trunk-
Etching signals in the sky?
Maybe my roots are solid and firm,
Grounded in being, strong and thick,
Passing soil and grub worm?
Specifically-
Am I, perhaps, an evergreen?
Warm and welcoming- Sheltering,
Birds within my canopy?
Or-
Do I sag, like a willow,
Showcasing agony with each wind,
Whispering melancholic mellows?
Which tree, Which tree, Which tree, Am I?
Oak, Redwood, Willow…. Bonsai?
poem by Lazarus Knix
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The best time to listen to a politician is when he's on a stump on a street corner in the rain late at night when he's exhausted. Then he doesn't lie.
quote by Theodore White
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The mark of a true politician is that he is never at a loss for words because he is always half-expecting to be asked to make a speech.
quote by Richard M. Nixon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Earth Sustainable Survival Systems
essential spirit of conservation
is respect for all life one life
life planet earth global village
conservation is not a greenie
Greenpeace luxury idealism
conservation is a needed attitude
essential sustainable earth survival
conservation is life survival code
embedded preservation renewable
resources key to survival humanity
recycle support sustain biodiversity
humanity finally living earth harmony?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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When I was in Birmingham I used to go to a place called Redwood Field. I used to get there for a two o'clock game. Where can you make this kind of money playing sports? It was just a pleasure to go out and enjoy myself and get paid for it.
quote by Willie Mays
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Giving Tree
Once there was a tree....
and she loved a little boy.
And everyday the boy would come
and he would gather her leaves
and make them into crowns
and play king of the forest.
He would climb up her trunk
and swing from her branches
and eat apples.
And they would play hide-and-go-seek.
And when he was tired,
he would sleep in her shade.
And the boy loved the tree....
very much.
And the tree was happy.
But time went by.
And the boy grew older.
And the tree was often alone.
Then one day the boy came to the tree
and the tree said, 'Come, Boy, come and
climb up my trunk and swing from my
branches and eat apples and play in my
shade and be happy.'
'I am too big to climb and play' said
the boy.
'I want to buy things and have fun.
I want some money?'
'I'm sorry,' said the tree, 'but I
have no money.
I have only leaves and apples.
Take my apples, Boy, and sell them in
the city. Then you will have money and
you will be happy.'
And so the boy climbed up the
tree and gathered her apples
and carried them away.
And the tree was happy.
But the boy stayed away for a long time....
and the tree was sad.
And then one day the boy came back
and the tree shook with joy
and she said, 'Come, Boy, climb up my trunk
and swing from my branches and be happy.'
'I am too busy to climb trees,' said the boy.
'I want a house to keep me warm,' he said.
'I want a wife and I want children,
and so I need a house.
Can you give me a house ?'
' I have no house,' said the tree.
'The forest is my house,
but you may cut off
my branches and build a
house. Then you will be happy.'
And so the boy cut off her branches
and carried them away
to build his house.
And the tree was happy.
But the boy stayed away for a long time.
And when he came back,
the tree was so happy
she could hardly speak.
'Come, Boy,' she whispered,
'come and play.'
'I am too old and sad to play,'
said the boy.
'I want a boat that will
take me far away from here.
Can you give me a boat?'
'Cut down my trunk
and make a boat,' said the tree.
'Then you can sail away...
and be happy.'
And so the boy cut down her trunk
and made a boat and sailed away.
And the tree was happy
... but not really.
And after a long time
the boy came back again.
'I am sorry, Boy,'
said the tree,' but I have nothing
left to give you -
My apples are gone.'
'My teeth are too weak
for apples,' said the boy.
'My branches are gone,'
said the tree. ' You
cannot swing on them - '
'I am too old to swing
on branches,' said the boy.
'My trunk is gone, ' said the tree.
'You cannot climb - '
'I am too tired to climb' said the boy.
'I am sorry,' sighed the tree.
'I wish that I could give you something....
but I have nothing left.
I am just an old stump.
I am sorry....'
'I don't need very much now,' said the boy.
'just a quiet place to sit and rest.
I am very tired.'
'Well,' said the tree, straightening
herself up as much as she could,
'well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting
Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.'
And the boy did.
And the tree was happy.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Redwood Hill
I climbed the redwood hill
Twas on a rainy day
To rise above the throng
And talk with mother nature for a while
She told me of her love
For the children in her trust
And of her grave concern
For the likes of you and me and us
Crying thought she was
She did speak these tender words
The things that I am
I could not change for any man
I tried to comfort her
Ah but she would not be still
And how the rain did fall
As I found my way back down the redwood hill
Crying though she was
She did speak these tender words
The things that I am
I would not change for any man
I tried to compfort her
Ah but she would not be still
Ill not forget that day
When mother nature cried on redwood hill
Ill not forget that day
When mother nature cried on redwood hill.
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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from A Fallen Tree All Make Kindling' (dutch Proverb)
Whenever I sit under a tree I’m in my grandpas arms
My grandpa was like a tree with his strong and silent charm
He would shelter the world under his shade
And in the harshest storm he just merely swayed
He was like a tree but not the ones with big flowers
For his beauty was endurance it lasted more than mere hours
My grandpa was a tree the kind with big leaves
The kind that when cut down the whole forest grieves
He was like a tree big and gentle
He sat there and listened kind and parental
And though he was the tallest tree all around
He never looked down on the ones on the ground
My grandpa was a tree his love ran deep like roots
So even when cut down we still have loves fruits
Woman In White
As I look out the window
from where I work
at the car park
about fifty yards away.
Near the fence that borders it
is a tree stump about five feet tall.
Bleached white by the sun
it resembles a woman in a cloak.
It seems to change daily
though I don’t know why.
One day it seems she is praying,
the next day she has what looks like
a basket in her hand.
When it rains, she changes colour
from white to grey.
Now the summers here
and the greenery surrounds her,
she looks like she is walking through a garden.
It is strange how my imagination
changes her from day to day
and I wonder what more
this tree stump figure will give my imagination.
Now this woman in white
has me puzzled as to who she really is.
I can give her many names
of precious people from the past
who may have worn a cloak and gown.
However, for me she is
just my woman in white.
15 August 2011
poem by David Harris
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The Mallee Fire
I SUPPOSE it just depends on where you’re raised,
Once I met a cove as swore by green belar!
Couldn’t sight the good old mallee-stump I praised;
Well!—I couldn’t sight belar, and there you are!
But the faces in the fire where the mallee stump’s a-blinking
Are the friendliest I ever seen, to my way o’ thinking!
In the city where the fires is mostly coal—
There! I can’t a-bear to go and warm my feet!
Spitting, fizzing things as hasn’t got no soul!
Things as puffs out yaller smoke instead of heat!
But at home—well, it is home when the mallee-stump’s a-burning,
And the evenin’s drawing chilly and the season is a-turning.
And there’s some as runs ’em down because they’re tough.
Well? And what’s the good of anythink as ain’t?
No. It’s nary use to serve ’em any bluff,
For they’d use up all the patience of a saint.
But they’ll split as sweet as sugar if you know the way to take ’em;
If you don’t, there isn’t nothink in the world as’ll make ’em.
They’re tremenjus hard to kindle, tho’, at first:
Like the friendship of the kind that comes to stay.
You can blow and blow and blow until you burst,
And when they won’t, they won’t burn, anyway!
But when once they gets a start, tho’ they make no showy flashes,
Well, they’ll serve you true and honest to the last pinch of ashes
poem by Charles Henry Souter
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Dads Cherry Tree
There was a large cherry tree in my yard
This tree t’was my dad ‘s favorite
And as the cherry tree grew up to thy sky
He did have a decision
whether or not to chop the tree down
Or risk it falling and killing him
For you see this old cherry tree did
Stand right over his bed
So if the wind kick up or lightning did strike
Would be his end for
The tree would fall and he would go
So unfortunately with the tree
So he would make great decision
And hopefully make it right
It took him many years and many a time
He thought’s the did spite
Him for the year’s went by and the cherry tree
Got more demised, nearer to the bed
As he would lay and begin to wonder
Will this take off my head
So as the year the did expire
Then He finally said
I will take the old tree down
Above my own bed
And the so alas the cherry fell
The tree would breathe its last
And be cut down to stump and be
Safe for dad once again
The tree was made low and the branches did go
Right into the meat smoker
But out of the ash cloud grew another
through the thorns and choker
the tree did live on in another a tree that grew
and so the tree was reborn
from a cherry, the trees great fruit
and so this little sapling grew and it grew
and it grew 1,2,3 foot by the crowing of the year
and so it grew and it got taller
as a little sapling then might or would do
and the tree got no smaller
as it grew to be as tall as dad and it was
staring him in the eye
he said we got to dig this up
look at the size
for you see the little sapling was right in my garden
and blocking the sunshine
so we dug and dug and dug
it took a lot of time
but finally we got up pulled it out of the ground
and moved to better spot
were it would live in peace and harmony
the place we set was not to hot
But it was not to cold either, it was
It was a nice spot with all
of the tree for the young cherry’s company
the tree grew very tall
And with it happy position that there was
it was a great sight
To see this cherry tree again live
And never have to fight
Now when my dad he did see this
he was so overjoyed
He had his cherry tree’s son and offspring
And never again did he toy
With planting or cutting down old cherry trees
He loved his tree so dear
That he would be indeed collecting all the cherries
And never wrong was he steered
poem by Timothy Young
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