Planting A Sequoia
All afternoon my brothers and I have worked in the orchard,
Digging this hole, laying you into it, carefully packing the soil.
Rain blackened the horizon, but cold winds kept it over the Pacific,
And the sky above us stayed the dull gray
Of an old year coming to an end.
In Sicily a father plants a tree to celebrate his first son's birth--
An olive or a fig tree--a sign that the earth has one more life to bear.
I would have done the same, proudly laying new stock into my father's orchard,
A green sapling rising among the twisted apple boughs,
A promise of new fruit in other autumns.
But today we kneel in the cold planting you, our native giant,
Defying the practical custom of our fathers,
Wrapping in your roots a lock of hair, a piece of an infant's birth cord,
All that remains above earth of a first-born son,
A few stray atoms brought back to the elements.
We will give you what we can--our labor and our soil,
Water drawn from the earth when the skies fail,
Nights scented with the ocean fog, days softened by the circuit of bees.
We plant you in the corner of the grove, bathed in western light,
A slender shoot against the sunset.
And when our family is no more, all of his unborn brothers dead,
Every niece and nephew scattered, the house torn down,
His mother's beauty ashes in the air,
I want you to stand among strangers, all young and emphemeral to you,
Silently keeping the secret of your birth.
poem by Dana Gioia
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Related quotes
No Tree Can Stand Tall Without Roots Spread!
Every seed sends roots first,
Finding for soil and ground
where it can stand firm and tall,
stand firm and tall if roots go
deep,
Spread wide to find The sap! single cell that carry life,
Give life to cells and tissues,
Shoot, barks, branches and
leaves,
feed the leaves exposing leaves
to light, Visible tree stands on exposed
roots, not roots visible, Man made boundaries, fence and
compound,
Can't prevent or limit roots or
branches,
Sometimes absorbing soil here,
Branch will extent to neighbouring house,
How one can limit the nature,
or confine growing tree to
narrow circle drawn by man?
So is every life on Earth!
Mankind is like forest of different trees,
Yet all roots of autotrophic trees
deep in the soil,
Only parasitic have those roots,
pierce other tree's heart! Dive deep into yourself,
O man! Can you survive without
Your roots?
know how you are here,
Is it the mortal parent brought
you here, Or your fate,
Only be grateful to their love and
care forever!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Death and Birth
Death leads to birth rather than birth, to death.
Birth is close to death and not vice versa.
Every birth is at the result of a death.
Death to birth, not birth to death, is the path.
The death of clay is the birth of a pot;
The death of the pot is the birth of clay.
Ice melts to water and water forms ice.
In each conversion, occur death and birth.
The death of a night is the birth of a day;
The death of a day is the birth of a night.
New Year means the death of the old year too.
In each transition, takes place death and birth.
The death of a seed is the birth of a plant;
The death of gametes is the birth of an embryo.
Salts die to form cells; cells die to form salts.
In each growth, form death and birth of matter.
The so called death and birth is nothing but
Deaths and births of forms made of matter.
The matter itself does not die to be born
But is converted to different forms.
Elements disappear to form plants.
Plants as food add to the animals’ flesh.
Plants and animals on death liberate
As elements, serving through worms and germs.
When a child is born, there’s no birth of life.
The embryo transforms into a child.
When a man dies, there is no death of life.
The body disintegrates to salts.
Matter, energy and life have no death
They have got one birth since when they’ve been.
They interact and come different stages
In which the pattern is death and birth.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Don’t be an uprooted Tree
Seed is sown and the embryo is formed
Legitimate or not, radicle develops into root
Root penetrates into the surface of the soil
Absorbs water and food, turns seed into plant
Inherits the culture of the earth beneath.
It’s in root science that, it moves in
Right direction to fetch the exact need.
Stem gives the support and balance to stand
Branches form the vitality of the plant
Leaves prepare the food to survive
Bearing even odds the plant grows into tree.
As long as deep roots embraces mother earth
The tree shows confidence and attracts.
Location and depth are the might of the tree
Flower, fruit, shade, firm soil, H2O and CO2
Vary from tree to tree, but all owe to root
Never there is an existence beyond this means.
Still human trees surrender under the pressures
Try to get uprooted from the surface and means
Hoping for better flower, fruit, soil and breeze
Truth is, an uprooted tree, a timber, put to ablaze.
-vidi-
22-04-08
poem by Vidi Writes
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A Tree of Ashes
The Tree Of Ashes
'You should have died at birth'
That's what his mother said
Had he died at birth
Maybe, many would be ahead
Soon, She's the one who's leaving
Going on her way
She will be the one who will be judged
On that her judgement day
He was the blame for all their ills
Although he knows not why
Maybe they all were right
And should have taken the time to die
He didn't die, he's still he's still here
What should we do with him?
Find a stone to cast at him
You who are all without sin
There are two who squabble over things
Not theirs and never were
And two who could care less
For Frankincense and Myrrh
When she's gone, she'll be the last
Of that tree with broken branches
Spread over the earth, is this tree
The tree that's turned to ashes
A tree that could have been so strong
Instead of mean and ugly sorrow
This tree of life that will be gone
As quickly as tomorrow
Jim 2008
poem by James Casey
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Examples
What kind of an example will you be
Spoke mother nature to the tree
As it stood so proudly and ever so tall
As though defying to all that it would fall
Will you place your roots deep into the Earth
Then other trees like you will then give birth
Spoke once again mother nature to the tree
Tell me please what type of example will you be.
What kind of an example will you become
Spoke the mother wolf unto her young
Will you be majestic and run fast and free
Running in packs to provide for your family.
Or will you become a mother like I became
But swearing to all you will never be tamed
While fearing no one in the the moonlight or the sun
So please tell me what type of examples will you become.
What kind of an example will you be
Spoke the mother to her daughter upon her knee
Will you be a loyal and devout and virtuous woman
Never doing the things that a lady shouldn't
Being honest and caring through the days of your life
Then being truthful and trusting when you become a wife
And will you become a mother just like me
Please tell me what type of an example will you be.
What kind of an example will you be
Spoke GOD to mother nature as she planted the tree
And what kind of an example have you become
Spoke GOD to the she wolf as she spoke to her young
What hind of an example will you then be
Spoke GOD to the mother with her daughter on her knee
The young ones will do and become from what they see
As the examples will be you spoke GOD to all three.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Life Of The Leaf
Colouring the seasons up and down,
and all around with green, red and brown,
on the end of the fingers of trees,
we dance together in the breeze,
going to and fro, always in a flap and a flutter,
whilst on the ground we block the gutter,
back to the soil which gave us birth,
decomposing upon nature’s earth.
During the seasons of summer and spring,
we suckle upon the light the sun does bring,
giving our grand mother tree,
some of Mother Nature’s energy,
absorbing her warm and loving kiss,
whilst giving you oxygen from photosynthesis,
for you see the air that you breathe,
is our gift to you, which you gladly receive.
Once we’ve died and settled upon the grass,
where the wind did come to pass,
you show us great respect,
by bending knee in genuflect,
with a broom or rake in hand,
you return us to the soil and sand,
so once again we can feed,
our mother tree, so she can seed,
and give birth to the next generation,
of leaves, who then dance in life’s celebration.
poem by Dale Mullock
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Arbor Amoris
I have a tree, a graft of Love,
That in my heart has taken root;
Sad are the buds and blooms thereof,
And bitter sorrow is its fruit;
Yet, since it was a tender shoot,
So greatly hath its shadow spread,
That underneath all joy is dead,
And all my pleasant days are flown,
Nor can I slay it, nor instead
Plant any tree, save this alone.
Ah, yet, for long and long enough
My tears were rain about its root,
And though the fruit be harsh thereof,
I scarcely looked for better fruit
Than this, that carefully I put
In garner, for the bitter bread
Whereon my weary life is fed:
Ah, better were the soil unsown
That bears such growths; but Love instead
Will plant no tree, but this alone.
Ah, would that this new spring, whereof
The leaves and flowers flush into shoot,
I might have succour and aid of Love,
To prune these branches at the root,
That long have borne such bitter fruit,
And graft a new bough, comforted
With happy blossoms white and red;
So pleasure should for pain atone,
Nor Love slay this tree, nor instead
Plant any tree, but this alone.
L'ENVOY.
Princess, by whom my hope is fed,
My heart thee prays in lowlihead
To prune the ill boughs overgrown,
Nor slay Love's tree, nor plant instead
Another tree, save this alone.
poem by François Villon
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Born On Earth
How many have you given birth,
Mother earth, Mother earth?
Bore them here to drink your rain,
bore them here to feel your pain?
You cannot count them though you try,
not until you feel them die.
One by one they came to you
and one by one they left your view.
They plowed your fields and reaped your seed
and ate of you to fill their need.
Some were kind and pure of heart,
some foolhardy from the start.
How many came and breathed your air
and offered thanks and gave you prayer?
Did you keep a record of each brave soul
or just use yourself to cover the hole
that waits and observes their destiny
and accepts their bodies with sympathy?
How many more will you give birth
to stake their claim upon your earth?
Too many, too many I'm afraid
and for most a terrible price will be paid.
How many have you given birth
Mother earth, Mother earth?
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Sad Spring
The Spring weeps, she is forlorn;
Well that she may weep, alas!
Now that many babes are born
Whose dear fathers lie in grass.
Snowdrops in the frozen earth
Faint and are not comforted;
Never was so sad a birth,
Never was so sad a bed.
She must bear her pangs alone.
Where is sorrow like to hers?
In an anguish cold as stone
Her dead soldier's child she bears.
Now her trembling arms will hold
Close the piteous downy thing
To a milky breast as cold
As the frozen water-spring.
Now she hopes and dreads to find
Likeness in the little son
To his father, brave and kind.
Like or not, her heart's undone.
Tender nurslings born in pain,
Mother's comfort, mother's grief,
When her tears run down like rain,
Lord, bring Thou a handkerchief.
Wipe the widow's tears away,
Father orphan boys and girls.
Lead them out where they may play,
With Thy hand upon their curls.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Russell Kincaid
In the last spring I ever knew,
In those last days,
I sat in the forsaken orchard
Where beyond fields of greenery shimmered
The hills at Miller's Ford;
Just to muse on the apple tree
With its ruined trunk and blasted branches,
And shoots of green whose delicate blossoms
Were sprinkled over the skeleton tangle,
Never to grow in fruit.
And there was I with my spirit girded
By the flesh half dead, the senses numb
Yet thinking of youth and the earth in youth, --
Such phantom blossoms palely shining
Over the lifeless boughs of Time.
O earth that leaves us ere heaven takes us!
Had I been only a tree to shiver
With dreams of spring and a leafy youth,
Then I had fallen in the cyclone
Which swept me out of the soul's suspense
Where it's neither earth nor heaven.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Mother Earth's Frequency
Mother Earth's frequency is 7.8 hertz
our brains are the same frequency
we are connected to her at birth.
Earthing which is laying on Mother Earth
helps your brain heal you—
yes, I am blessing her dirt.
Laying on Mother Earth
or even walking barefoot outside
makes you sleep better—heals your insides.
Mother Earth helps you with inflammation
and all kinds of things-
treat Mother Earth kindly
for the good that she brings.
Written by Christina Sunrise on August 8,2012
www.christinasunrise.com www.suzae.com
www.suechevalier.com www.puppetpoems.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
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God Cries Down Over Head-Only After A Renewed Begin.
God cries when droplets of rain water plummet to Earth.
God exhales and blows his breath downward towards Earth, when
windy breezes are given birth.
God only cries with shame for man.
God painted rainbows from palets of colored pacts with man.
God turns up the heat of the Sun when man gets cold.
God opens his arms to man when he wants to welcome his son back
up to his fold and home.
God welcomes his lost sheep back only when man finds his way back
to beliefe in his father.
God does send down to Earth snow and ice from his dissappointed cold heart, only after man erringly errs from God's ways and laws-to sin.
God is the almighty creator and man's own father...
To be forgiven by Him we must all love our fellow man and commit no sin.
So that on judgement day we will be able to anew begin.
poem by Michael Gale
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Eden Still Existent
New Zealand
South Island
West Coast
tropical rain forest
sacred images fuse soul
under canopy of life
Eden still existent
living temple of life
flowers in eye heart
breath embrace atmosphere
sight embrace vision horizons
touch ecosystem life non-life
sunlight wind kiss water soil
light water soil nutrients bless
plants into new sprouting life
lakes rivers landscapes
everything is connected life
water; water temperature
plants animals inhale air
light soil water work together
balance life elements least
plants die algae plants
produce oxygen produce fibre
feed herbivores omnivores
energy soil sunlight water
plants produce filter air
produce diverse vegetation
their plant bodies foods
animals herbivores feast eat
plants omnivores feast eat
plants animals both eaten
carnivores eat herbivores
sometimes other carnivores
webs of life interlock creation
decomposers break down dead
planets animals into elements
organic materials waste recycled
back into life nurturing womb soil
energy sunlight kiss soil water
interlocked ecosystems dance
cosmic creation life webs
strands of life sail cosmic winds
poem by Terence George Craddock
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An Epitaph [Hangman's hands laid in this tomb an]
Hangman's hands laid in this tomb an
Imp of Satan's getting, whom an
Ancient legend says that woman
Never bore-he owed his birth
To Sin herself. From Hell to Earth
She brought the brat in secret state
And laid him at the Golden gate,
And they named him Henry Vrooman.
While with mortals here he stayed,
His father frequently he played.
Raised his birth-place and in other
Playful ways begot his mother.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Caroline Branson
With our hearts like drifting suns, had we but walked,
As often before, the April fields till star-light
Silkened over with viewless gauze the darkness
Under the cliff, our trysting place in the wood,
Where the brook turns! Had we but passed from wooing
Like notes of music that run together, into winning,
In the inspired improvisation of love!
But to put back of us as a canticle ended
The rapt enchantment of the flesh,
In which our souls swooned, down, down,
Where time was not, nor space, nor ourselves --
Annihilated in love!
To leave these behind for a room with lamps:
And to stand with our Secret mocking itself,
And hiding itself amid flowers and mandolins,
Stared at by all between salad and coffee.
And to see him tremble, and feel myself
Prescient, as one who signs a bond --
Not flaming with gifts and pledges heaped
With rosy hands over his brow.
And then, O night! deliberate! unlovely!
With all of our wooing blotted out by the winning,
In a chosen room in an hour that was known to all!
Next day he sat so listless, almost cold,
So strangely changed, wondering why I wept,
Till a kind of sick despair and voluptuous madness
Seized us to make the pact of death.
A stalk of the earth-sphere,
Frail as star-light;
Waiting to be drawn once again
Into creation's stream.
But next time to be given birth
Gazed at by Raphael and St. Francis
Sometimes as they pass.
For I am their little brother,
To be known clearly face to face
Through a cycle of birth hereafter run.
You may know the seed and the soil;
You may feel the cold rain fall,
But only the earth-sphere, only heaven
Knows the secret of the seed
In the nuptial chamber under the soil.
Throw me into the stream again,
Give me another trial --
Save me, Shelley!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Cheyenne Anthem
From the mountains to the sun, Life has only just begun.
We wed this land and pledge our souls to meet its end,
Life has only just begun
Here my people roam the earth, in the kingdom of our birth,
Where the dust of all our horses hides the sun
We are mighty on the earth, on the earth
You have come to move me, take me from my ancient home,
Land of my fathers I can't leave you now
We will share it with you, no man owns this earth we're on
Now the wheels are rolling hear the howling winds of war
It's my destiny to fight and die
Is there no solution, can we find no other way, Lord let me stay
Under the endless sky and the earth below
Here I was born to live and I will never go, oh no
But we cannot endure like the earth and the mountains
Life is not ours to keep, for a new sun is rising
Soon these days shall pass away, for our freedom we must pay
All our words and deeds are carried on the wind,
In the ground our bodies lay, here we lay
song performed by by Kansas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Only Reason For The Season
The Lord and Savior, The Great I AM, came to earth as a gentle Lamb.
Born a tiny baby in a cattle stall, born to be King and The Savior of all.
Isaiah said He’d be born of a virgin, brought into the world with no sin.
God’s sinless Son came to earth, came to offer sinful man a New Birth.
This was God’s predetermined plan, sending Christ to earth as a man.
Christ came to offer every nation, Eternal Life through God’s Salvation.
For it was God’s Only Begotten Son; who was by God the chosen One.
Chosen to be God’s Only Way, to save sinful men who’ve gone astray.
The One, who was but a prophecy, was born that day for all men to see.
Many of the prophets from Israel, had their prophecies in Christ fulfilled.
But ultimately for both you and I, The Sinless Lamb would have to die.
That little baby born in a stall, would soon die a wicked death for us all.
The Sinless Lamb from heaven above, sent to us by The Father’s Love.
Micah prophesied that in Bethlehem, would come The Savior of all men.
The city of Bethlehem, it is said, is known by all as The House of Bread.
What a place for the birth of Christ, who my friend, is The Bread of Life.
This season let your heart pause, when you hear the name Santa Claus.
As the real gift for both you and me, was not under, but nailed on a tree.
And the True Giver is our Creator, and the Gift was our Lord and Savior.
So Jesus Christ is the only reason, why men even celebrate the season.
(Copyright ©12/2005)
Bacelli’s Walnut Tree
Bacelli’s Walnut Tree
Not far the corner of my home's knee
Just some yards above the road
Stands on its glory the Big Walnut Tree
Branched right and left over the road
As the years jump on line and the clock ticks
I can see through the epochs and curtain blinds
Babies being born, marriages, deaths, wars and miseries
Misfortunes and happiness experienced by Bacellis
This Big Walnut Tree, the old sincere angel
The witness so fair for a hundred years.
I often come back to this Walnut Tree
I kneel and pray in silence
As a great grandmother in need
I ate the tasty nuts of this tree
As my father, my pop did once
All of them fellows Bacelli
Yes, indeed my sons will try them too
My granddaughters and grandsons
The Walnut Tree fetches, embraces all generations
Keeping inside the live ones and protecting the dead Bacellis
When my father was gone and buried
The Walnut Tree joined me in grieving
Fruit stalled, tears dropped
No leaves, no flowers, no nuts, all disappeared
The Walnut Tree nearly did perish
It dried and vanished like a storm turning greyish
Other times the Big Walnut Tree shed tears
Three times, when Bacellis' house scorched on skies
Humbled disappearing fast through sparkling fires
The Big Walnut Tree of Bacellis
It's my home, my shelter and my roof
When I need to go back to my roots
To meet Bacellis and the dead ones that I miss
On my troubled days of New York
For crashed sweet nuts in my bag I check
With my finger I touch the exquisite silk
Of my Big Walnut Tree at home back
poem by Agim Bacelli
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The Flower.
I.
The flower in its own scent breathes till it dies
As if the scent its very birth-breath were
(As love is life's) which, while it occupies
Like a mesmeric light the living air,
Feeds every portion of the tender hue
In which it manifests so subtly fair
The faery form, which as in a dream grew
Out of the dark earth with ethereal power
Quickening its limbs, as those of a babe who
Draws from its mother's life a vital dower
Of warmth and beauty, thrilling breast and brain
Till it too comes to birth — a perfect flower
With its own aura, like a subtle strain
Which must vibrate to every joy and pain.
II.
The seeing eye and hearing ear are fed
With nature's nurture, and the mind imbues
Earth and all things within it, even the dead,
With its own sap that with thought's mystic hues
Bourgeons in every waking hour, and e'en
When sleep does all the inner life transfuse
With its own radiance, and the unseen
Becomes a part of us too, as we were
Back in some other sphere where we had been
Before the new thought breathed in the old air,
And the new body budded into birth,
Making us all that we are now who bear
The signs in us of all the woe and mirth
That came and has gone on with man on earth.
III.
Far back in the unstoried past, whose rune
No sage has ciphered and no bard has sung,
In the beginning of the sun and moon
When e'en the oldest hill was very young —
Ah! then perchance the seed that was us first
Took root in th' mystic soil whence we have (Unclear
Under the very hand of God, and burst
Into the secret being it has had,
All through the enchanted aeons strangely nursed
From death to life between the good and bad;
E'en as it were a spirit-germ that grew
By some mysterious process, and was clad
E'en like the flowers with varying form and hue,
Till it ends in what all may end in too!
poem by Robert Crawford
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The three is growing now
From another land
From another aid of a hand
Where dry seasons is like fall
Where the bushes are green and tall
The tree is growing now
Into the sea and out of the sunset
Where great tides are known to set
Where the wind blow as hard and cold
I see no rain, or loam of soil to call gold
But the tree is growing now
Fro and to the blue of the cloud
Where the storm is as loud
The heart weeps and sleeps as fair
The children are as timid as au pair
But the tree is growing now
Into the cemetery and out of the ground
Where the death is as lavish as soothing sound
The lost is moaned, and the living is brave
The woman is running to ease her grave
But the tree is growing now
From the birth of a child
Where he play his part as mild
The world was sweet as a lime
And the years, days, with all the time
But the tree is still growing now
poem by william Dadeah Jr.
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