What is the purpose of the giant sequoia tree? The purpose of the giant sequoia tree is to provide shade for the tiny titmouse.
quote by Edward Abbey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So pretty thick skinned
Is the oldest tree on earth,
Giant sequoia tree.
haiku by Marieta Maglas
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Sequoia Trees
Trees so long that it makes a city look small.
Yet they make the Empire state building look tall.
People can climb this massive trees in the winter or the fall.
I saw pictures of people climbing one Sequoia like a mountain.
One of these days I want to climb a Sequoia tree.
I think these trees will last until the end of time.
No one should ever cut them down in their prime.
The Sequoias bark is so thick that it protects itself against fire.
They can last long winters in the Sierra.
Thick bark serves both causes which makes it unwilling to expire.
The fact that they are continually growing is very profound.
Theses trees are so tall and round.
Most people cant see the sky from the ground.
None should chop it down because it will fall
to pieces on the forest floor.
Try to make wood from those trees and you will be poor.
These famous trees are disease resistant.
One Sequoia is called the President.
On earth this is the second greatest tree giant.
The Sequoias are Americas living monument.
I find the Sequoias so hard to describe,
because they are so magnificent.
Thanks God for creating trees that cause so much excitement.
7/11 Mumbai
in the deep recess
far away from the light
lives a neanderthral.
a giant in size,
mind firmly lent
to the nether of ideas
and morals,
the neanderthral
was
but human in shape.
the neanderthral
got envious of a tiny
tree,
'lop it i must',
he said to himself.
tree and i cannot
stay together.
so decided
he took an oversized
sword,
aimed at the tree
and cut it into two.
but
of
the smart tree,
the felled part raised itself
and
the same tree stood again.
surprised,
but
angrier
the neanderthral
second time
dealt a mightier swipe.
again
cut but again
re-joined,
the giant was confused,
dismayed.
twice
repeated the murder,
up
again rose the tree,
livelier, more vibrant
and
challenging the ogre
for another swoop.
disheartened,
but
nevertheless
wising
upto the situation
the giant
conceding defeat
named the tree
Mumbai.
the city that refuses
to call it quits.
poem by Samyak Jain
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Trust Like A Tree
From tiny seed to tall giant
Firmly rooted in one place
Trusting God will provide
Sun, rain, ample space
If man dare learn from trees
Feet rooted in a single space
Trusting God shall provide
Man ‘n Earth could interface
Angels’ negotiate lasting peace
Where once was strife ‘n war
Satan’s grip would then release
God Within supreme once more
The next time you see a noble tree
Offer grateful words unashamedly
poem by Ray Lucero
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Killing Trees
Ev'rytime I write, my pen chops a tree,
Hacking it down with an ink-blotted blade.
I see it bleed in black as my thoughts seize
My hand and slice into the bark and shade.
I split the tree of its epidermis,
Shaving the skin off to maybe reveal
All the growth rings and perhaps their purpose—
Though I scar its stem where it cannot heal.
I take the flayed peelings and uncover
The tree's inner feelings the more I press.
Further I go, further I discover
I can cut through all deep-rooted distress
Because I am the tree, tall and sturdy,
And I will fall by my saw when ready.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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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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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
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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
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My Tree Of Life
Once a seedling
Well nourished and fed,
Now a giant elm
In my garden bed.
I've sheltered this tree
From wind and rain,
Watched it grow,
And kept it from pain.
This great big elm,
So important to my life,
Signifies my past;
It symbolizes my strife.
When I grow weary
Of dealing with my pain,
I turn to my tree
Realizing I have much to gain.
My tree has scars
And it's bark grows rough,
But day after day
It's just never enough.
You see at my tree
Life throws rain,
And at my tree,
Life throws pain.
It's these things though,
My tree needs to live.
For, it's these hardships
Life has to give.
So just like my tree,
I'll learn to move on.
I'll soak up the storms
Until I'm gone.
poem by Candika Niada
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Death is just a low chemical trick played on everybody except sequoia trees.
quote by J.J. Fumas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ringmasters Word
I have a purpose...
Take your dill knife, stab me, go, strike my heart...(ha ha, ha ha...ha ha, ha ha )
I have a purpose...
Such things cant exist...
I have a purpose...
You will tell them of me and how one day I shall come for them...
I have a purpose...
Quietly, I will come over your bed,
I will lean over and gently bite your neck...
Ringmaster...
I have a purpose...
You will tell them of me and how one day I shall come for them
song performed by by Insane Clown Posse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Encounters
Stars cascading,
Sometimes one can see God’s children circle dance around the sun.
As the moon shies away from sky lightening-
Was this the first day?
I encountered your deadpan face,
Though bitterly weeping
Before a broken, hand held looking glass,
Someone is visiting from afar,
Earth-toned, not swarthy
Is the tree, behind which you hide your elf-like countenance?
Your impish grin no longer entices,
The ocean-blue sky
Reeks with the coming of age
Gangrenous-green as mold,
Its stench, putrid, as such,
Overpowers any nuances.
I hear ancient music, as I walk to staccato rhythm
As some walk with the Lord,
As you asked, madam, I told you, I threw your letter away…
Children circle dance around the sun,
As all I can do is rest beneath the shade of the crooked old sequoia tree.
Within nature’s garden, I close my weary eyes,
Soundly resting,
Escaping in my dreams
Of that place beyond the sun,
For I am the center of the circle dance-
I do believe, that..
Stars cascade from the sky,
I do not walk with the Lord,
I control the world,
God’s children circle-dance around me…
poem by Claudia Krizay
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To A Silvereye
I see you almost every day you fly from tree to tree
And I envy you your happiness for you are wholly free
You tiny insect eating bird in olive fawn and gray
And I feel glad so very glad to see you every day.
No boss to order you around to tell you what to do
Wish you were me dear tiny bird and wish that I were you
For you have freedom in your wings the freedom of the sky
And I envy you your happiness dear tiny silvereye.
On garden tree and green hedgerow close to the homes of men
I see you almost every day you and your tiny kin
From garden tree to garden tree and to and fro you wing
And midst the leaves the sunlit leaves you preen and chirp and sing.
I see you almost every day from tree to tree you fly
And I envy you your happiness the freedom of the sky
And I've a wish a secret wish when my turn come to die
That I will come to life again a tiny silvereye.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Your Purpose of Living
The master of purpose does not
respect certificate or degree;
He only respect people
with purpose in life.
Purpose is the gate fee
to success land.
Purpose is your direction.
Purpose is an objective in life,
dream, and what you are here for.
You cannot move on in life
until you have discovered
your objectives in life,
which is your purpose of living.
poem by Franca Kenneth
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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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The Majestic Tree
They bow to the winds that pass
The beautiful majestic trees,
With arms up toward the skies
They laugh in the summer breeze.
They provide shade and shelter for the bee,
He plants history, who plants a tree.
They provide lumber for houses, and barns
For a roof to cover our heads,
Lumber for aeroplanes, ships and cars
And for caskets, to bury our dead.
This is only a few uses you see
He plants history, who plants a tree.
They provide rest for the weary man
Food and protection, for many wild things,
Home and sanctuary, for millions of birds
And rock their babies to sleep in swings.
Their magestic grace so wild and free
He plants history, who plants a tree.
poem by Della Hodgson James
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Chaos, Order, Chaos, Beauty And Ugliness...
beauty must a purpose
have, for instance beauty that
gives peace and
harmony to the world,
presumably this world is a world of chaos,
and chaos is wanton
and understood to be messy and
undesirable, makes the mind
to lack the necessary focus
but what is focus for? what is thinking for?
again, you return to purpose
focus must have a purpose
and thinking must have another purpose
but what is the purpose of purpose?
seems that purpose is beauty
and that purpose without beauty is not desirable,
and so on and so forth,
people get so confused, they want order as though order itself is
beauty
as though it is one purpose that we need,
the universe must have an order
a system, every planet orbiting around the sun must have
a purpose
as though they are human beings like us
as though they are us
look at this poem, read it so well,
it has no purpose but to make you think
make you doubt
that perhaps beauty to be beauty must be wanton
and chaotic, which by itself is a reality
and reality is always
beautiful,
it has always a purpose and this is what you think it to be
right now, but is this really so?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Nightmare
I dreamed that I was dead. The years went by:
The world forgot that such a man as I
Had ever lived and written: other names
Were hailed with homage, in their turn to die.
Out of my grave a giant beech upgrew.
Its roots transpierced my body, through and through,
My substance fed its growth. From many lands
Men came in troops that giant tree to view.
'T was sacred to my memory and fame
My monument. But Allen Forman came,
Filled with the fervor of a new untruth,
And carved upon the trunk his odious name!
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Life goes on
.
A lightning blasted tree still stands.
It bears no hint of greenery
but Mother Nature understands.
The tree provides a haven
for lesser creatures in her care.
A place to nest a place to rest
small creatures living everywhere.
Wherever they find suits them best.
The tree though dead still sustains life
as its substance rots away.
A sanctuary free from strife
the tree providing still today.
Although it’s dead the blasted tree
still serves a purpose faithfully.
17-Apr-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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