Wind
I am no more but you live on,
And the wind, whining and complaining,
Is shaking house and forest, straining
Not single fir trees one by one
But the whole wood, all trees together,
With all the distance far and wide,
Like sail-less yachts in stormy weather
When moored within a bay they lie.
And this not out of wanton pride
Or fury bent on aimless wronging,
But to provide a lullaby
For you with words of grief and longing,
poem by Boris Pasternak
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Storm-Wind
I am finished, but you live on.
And the wind, crying and moaning,
rocks the house and the clearing,
not each pine alone,
but all the trees together,
with the vast distance, whole,
like the hulls of vessels,
moored in a bay, storm-blown.
And it shakes them not from mischief,
and not with an aimless tone,
but to find, for you, from its grief,
the words of a cradle-song.
poem by Boris Pasternak
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Nothin' Shakin'
I tried to find out
What love is all about,
And every day
It sure lets out.
I see my baby
I get week in my knees.
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees.
My pappie told me
There'd be times like these.
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees.
We meet the gang
And go to rocking joes.
The cats are something
On the heels and toes.
I grab my baby,
Tried to give her a squeeze.
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees.
Why must she be
Such a doggone tease?
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees.
She's got a way
That makes me act like a fool.
Spent my money,
Then she plays me cool.
I beg her for kisses
On my bended knees.
Oh won't you give me
Some loving, baby,
Please please please.
Though i keep trying hard
To make her mine,
One day the wind will blow
And the sun will shine.
Till that time
She puts my heart at ease.
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees
She locked my heart
And threw away the keys.
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees, yeah.
She's got a way
That makes me act like a fool.
Spent my money,
Then she plays me cool.
I'm begging her for kisses
On my bended knees.
Oh won't you give me
Some of your loving, baby,
Please please please.
Though i keep trying hard
To make her mine,
One day the wind will blow
And the sun will shine.
Till that time
She puts my heart at ease.
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees
She locked my heart
And threw away the keys.
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love & Maple Syrup
Love and maple syrup goes together
Like the sticky winds of winter when they meet
When lonely lovers come to rest
Beneath the trees they do their best
But still they cant be free
Looking for the world to be
Anything but what they see
Longing to be understood
By the heart that shapes the wood
If you go into the forest, gaze up through the leaves
And see the sky thats almost wild
You must learn to understand
What makes the forest greet the man
Like a mothers only child
In the north when when winters claw
Relaxes now to keep the laws of nature in control
People come and stand in line
To rob the forest of her wine
But they dont feel the cold
Looking for the world to be
Anything but what they see
Longing to be understood
By the heart that shapes the wood
Love and maple syrup goes together
Like the sticky winds of winter when they meet
When lonely lovers come to rest
Beneath the trees they do their best
But still they cant be free
Love and maple syrup shine like
Embers warm, like thoughts divine
They tell us it is spring
Love and maple syrup stir
The thoughts of people into words
Of songs that they can sing
Looking for the world to be
Anything but what they see
Longing to be understood
By the heart that shapes the wood
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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4: 39 A.m.
the strong wind keeps on blowing
howling
above the house and the trees bending
in different directions
there is this sound of tin roofs
about to be blown away
i hear them
and feel the fury
of someone
coming
to the mind of my wife
it is nothing
but a typhoon coming
on schedule
as predicted by the weather bureau
yesterday
and to her
i am just overdoing thoughts
and things
playing always
the role of the poet
even when
the wind is the wind
and nothing
but the wind
and nothing else
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Nothin Shaking (But The Leaves On The Tree)
I found it out, what love is all about
And every day at three, when school lets out
I see my baby, I get weak in the knees
There's nothing shaking, but the leaves on the trees
My pappy told me there'll be times like these
There's nothing shaking, but the leaves on the trees
We meet the gang and go to rocking shows
The cats are stomping on their heels and toes
I got my baby, trying to give her a squeeze
There's nothing shaking, but the leaves on the trees
Well, why must she be such a doggone tease?
There's nothing shaking, but the leaves on the trees
She's got a way that makes me act like a fool
Spends my money, then she plays me cruel
I'm begging for kisses on my bended knees
Oh, won't you give me some more loving
Baby, please, please, please?
Though I keep trying hard to make her mine
One day, teh wind will blow and the sun will shien
Till that time, she puts my heart at ease
There's nothing shaking, but the leaves on the trees
She locked my heart and threw away the keys
There's nothing shaking, but the leaves on the trees
Yeah
She's got a way that makes me act like a fool
She spends my money, then she plays me cruel
I'm begging for kisses on my bended knees
Oh, won't you give me some more loving
Baby, please, please, please?
Though I keep trying hard to make her mine
One day, the wind will blow and the sun will shine
Till that time, she puts my heart at ease
There's nothing shaking, but the leaves on the trees
She locked my heart and threw away the keys
There's nothing shaking, but the leaves on the trees
There's nothing shaking, but the leaves on the trees
There's nothing shaking, but the
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Weather
The leaves are blowing away
Up, up, and away they go.
Swish, swoosh, they go.
Like a dancing ballerina
Up, up and away they go
Way up , in the sky.
The trees standing there,
Their branches all bare.
The wind whistling throughout empty branches,
The trees look scary, swish, swoosh,
The wind is getting louder,
Throughout the trees it howls
The trees are blowing
From side to side
Like someone dancing swiftly,
The clouds in the sky are moving quietly
Is the weather ever going to change,
What weather it is today
poem by Angela Fletcher
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Lullaby
Now the day is done,
Now the shepherd sun
Drives his white flocks from the sky;
Now the flowers rest
On their mother's breast,
Hushed by her low lullaby.
Now the glowworms glance,
Now the fireflies dance,
Under fern-boughs green and high;
And the western breeze
To the forest trees
Chants a tuneful lullaby.
Now 'mid shadows deep
Falls blessed sleep,
Like dew from the summer sky;
And the whole earth dreams,
In the moon's soft beams,
While night breathes a lullaby.
Now, birdlings, rest,
In your wind-rocked nest,
Unscared by the owl's shrill cry;
For with folded wings
Little Brier swings,
And singeth your lullaby.
poem by Louisa May Alcott
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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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From Lightning and Tempest
The spring-wind pass'd through the forest, and whispered low in the leaves,
And the cedar toss'd her head, and the oak stood firm in his pride ;
The spring-wind pass'd through the town, through the housetops, casements, and eaves,
And whisper'd low in the hearts of the men, and the men replied,
Singing—'Let us rejoice in the light
Of our glory, and beauty, and might ;
Let us follow our own devices, and foster our own desires.
As firm as our oaks in our pride, as our cedars fair in our sight,
We stand like the trees of the forest that brave the frosts and the fires.'
The storm went forth to the forest, the plague went forth to the town,
And the men fell down to the plague, as the trees fell down to the gale ;
And their bloom was a ghastly pallor, and their smile was a ghastly frown,
And the song of their hearts was changed to a wild, disconsolate wail,
Crying—'God ! we have sinn'd, we have sinn'd,
We are bruised, we are shorn, we are thinn'd,
Our strength is turn'd to derision, our pride laid low in the dust,
Our cedars are cleft by Thy lightnings, our oaks are strew'd by Thy wind,
And we fall on our faces seeking Thine aid, though Thy wrath is just.'
poem by Adam Lindsay Gordon
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Until they lose everything
In the Springtime
The wind beats the trees
Until they lose
Their most beautiful flowers
In the Summertime
The wind beats the trees
Until they lose
Their most beloved fruits
In the Autumn time
The wind beats the trees
Until they lose
Their most painful leaves
In the Winter time
The wind beats the trees
Until they lose
Their hope.
And the wind beats again those trees
Until they lose
Their most important spring buds
Again and again
Until they lose their sap
Moreover
The wind beats the trees
Until they collapse down
To the ground.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Interval
Gone the wild day:
A wilder night
Coming makes way
For brief twilight.
Where the firm soaked road
Mounts and is lost
In the high beech-wood
It shines almost.
The beeches keep
A stormy rest,
Breathing deep
Of wind from the west.
The wood is black,
With a misty steam.
Above, the cloud pack
Breaks for one gleam.
But the woodman's cot
By the ivied trees
Awakens not
To light or breeze.
It smokes aloft
Unwavering:
It hunches soft
Under storm's wing.
It has no care
For gleam or gloom:
It stays there
While I shall roam,
Die, and forget
The hill of trees,
The gleam, the wet,
This roaring peace.
poem by Edward Thomas
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Feet of the Forest
Feet are for foresters who feel open fields,
Their walk comes along with their crawling;
The trunks of the trees may be shields
Like the weapons and axes dwindling.
My feet are of the forest, the forest and plains,
To see a weather of the poor,
The weather shall rise with the sun and brains,
The look of the snow is to adore.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Wasting My Time
You think you got it all figured out and wrapped up
Driving in your little red car
You could drive all night around the city
But you won't get far
There's something there on the edge of your mirror
Something you've been hiding for years
If you take a chance if you just take a look
Maybe I can handle your fears
I'm tired of waking up shaking in the dark
Making up what you're gonna do
You can keep your pride you can keep your distance
I never wanted to get that from you
I've had enough of a tough situation
Driving me out of my mind
You can keep your pride and you can keep your distance
I'm only wasting my time
Give me one good reason I should keep it up
You've got so many to spare
You keep it hot but you keep it so we're driving
It just ain't fair
You've got the jam down fired up emotions
I've got the three alarm blues
I can't get to you and you won't come to me
What would you suggest that I do
I'm tired of waking up shaking in the dark
Making up what you're gonna do
You can keep your pride you can keep your distance
I never wanted to get that from you
I've had enough of a tough situation
Driving me out of my mind
You can keep your pride and you can keep your distance
I'm only wasting my time
Half passed three I haven't got a clue
I spent the whole night just burning for you
I'm tired of waking up shaking in the dark
Making up what you're gonna do
You can keep your pride you can keep your distance
I never wanted toget that from you
I've had enough of a tough situation
Driving me out of my mind
Oh you can keep your pride you can keep your distance
I'm only wasting my time
Oh baby
You can keep your pride you can keep your distance
I'm only wasting my time
song performed by by Melissa Etheridge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Japanese Wood-Carving
High up above the open, welcoming door
It hangs, a piece of wood with colours dim.
Once, long ago, it was a waving tree
And knew the sun and shadow through the leaves
Of forest trees, in a thick eastern wood.
The winter snows had bent its branches down,
The spring had swelled its buds with coming flowers,
Summer had run like fire through its veins,
While autumn pelted it with chestnut burrs,
And strewed the leafy ground with acorn cups.
Dark midnight storms had roared and crashed among
Its branches, breaking here and there a limb;
But every now and then broad sunlit days
Lovingly lingered, caught among the leaves.
Yes, it had known all this, and yet to us
It does not speak of mossy forest ways,
Of whispering pine trees or the shimmering birch;
But of quick winds, and the salt, stinging sea!
An artist once, with patient, careful knife,
Had fashioned it like to the untamed sea.
Here waves uprear themselves, their tops blown back
By the gay, sunny wind, which whips the blue
And breaks it into gleams and sparks of light.
Among the flashing waves are two white birds
Which swoop, and soar, and scream for very joy
At the wild sport. Now diving quickly in,
Questing some glistening fish. Now flying up,
Their dripping feathers shining in the sun,
While the wet drops like little glints of light,
Fall pattering backward to the parent sea.
Gliding along the green and foam-flecked hollows,
Or skimming some white crest about to break,
The spirits of the sky deigning to stoop
And play with ocean in a summer mood.
Hanging above the high, wide open door,
It brings to us in quiet, firelit room,
The freedom of the earth's vast solitudes,
Where heaping, sunny waves tumble and roll,
And seabirds scream in wanton happiness.
poem by Amy Lowell
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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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A Companion On The Impossible...
on finished paths
i shy away, the stones there look the same
but no one is complaining
and all attempts to find new ones
seem to be nothing but a respect for
the trivial,
i am faced with forest trees
those that do not know how a man looks like
or how a woman tastes
all they know are the winds from the sea
and the clouds from across the islands of despair
i do not have a cutter on my hand
and i only have my fingers and tongue
i squat under the sun and begin my work
there is so much to cut and clean
been here for years and there is nothing much
that changed
the trees have grown so tall and cannot even see me
the grasses sheltered more snakes and have their party
i am alone with nothing but hope....
and then you come.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Words Like A Forest Hide Me
words like a forest hide me
and you will not see me crying
because my eyes have become leaves
without tear glands
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
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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Plants Feel
When a tree is cut down
in the forest all the other
trees feel it’s chop,
All the trees are connected
and feels it when this tree drops.
Now even your plant
even knows when you are gone,
it misses you and
needs more than water to live on.
Plants are sentient
which is true as the wind,
give the plant Kingdom kindness
for they were here in the beginning,
and help us to breathe and to live.
Written by Christina Sunrise on April 12,2011
www.christinasunrise.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
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House and Man
One hour: as dim he and his house now look
As a reflection in a rippling brook,
While I remember him; but first, his house.
Empty it sounded. It was dark with forest boughs
That brushed the walls and made the mossy tiles
Part of the squirrels' track. In all those miles
Of forest silence and forest murmur, only
One house - 'Lonely!' he said, 'I wish it were lonely' -
Which the trees looked upon from every side,
And that was his.
He waved good-bye to hide
A sigh that he converted to a laugh.
He seemed to hang rather than stand there, half
Ghost-like, half like a beggar's rag, clean wrung
And useless on the brier where it has hung
Long years a-washing by sun and wind and rain.
But why I call back man and house again
Is there now a beech-tree's tip I see
As then I saw - I at the gate, and he
In the house darkness, - magpie veering about,
A magpie like a weathercock in doubt.
poem by Edward Thomas
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Spring Morning
Where am I going? I don't quite know.
Down to the stream where the king-cups grow-
Up on the hill where the pine-trees blow-
Anywhere, anywhere. I don't know.
Where am I going? The clouds sail by,
Little ones, baby ones, over the sky.
Where am I going? The shadows pass,
Little ones, baby ones, over the grass.
If you were a cloud, and sailed up there,
You'd sail on water as blue as air,
And you'd see me here in the fields and say:
'Doesn't the sky look green today?'
Where am I going? The high rooks call:
'It's awful fun to be born at all.'
Where am I going? The ring-doves coo:
'We do have beautiful things to do.'
If you were a bird, and lived on high,
You'd lean on the wind when the wind came by,
You'd say to the wind when it took you away:
'That's where I wanted to go today!'
Where am I going? I don't quite know.
What does it matter where people go?
Down to the wood where the blue-bells grow-
Anywhere, anywhere. I don't know.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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