Canopy
We all live under a canopy
of hope, hate, love and lies.
The canopy gets bigger
every day within our lives.
We walk through the world
each day brings new things
that come under our canopy.
5 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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A Canopy Of Silence
The wings of night
few silently under a silver moon,
lovers gazed into each other’s eyes
as they walked together
under a canopy of silence.
The eyes of night watched
as they walked
and no murmur was heard.
It was if they were enveloped
within a canopy of silence.
The two lovers leant against a tree
entangled in each other’s arms
as the moon shone down on them
and the stars danced in the night sky.
They held each other close
under a canopy of silence.
poem by David Harris
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The Canopy Of Sea-gull
The sea-gull floating
Over the blue surface of sea
That weave with unending waves
A beautiful attire for the shore
To be worn by him
When he tie the knot
With the sea whom he kisses
With unabated passion!
The sea-gull is frightened
To see the dark cloud canopy
Over the roaring ocean
Urging her to seek a canopy
For her to escape from the lashing
Monsoon that showered incessantly.
The sea-gull flapped
Its wet wings to raise
From the loved wave bed
Of the sea that fed
That soothes her with wind
With the music on full moon
At the peak of the tides
That come mid-noon
To rouse the passion of the ocean!
The sea-gull left
To the shore arranged
With arrayed Chinese nets
That raise its head by poles
Invoking hope to the sea-gull
To perch on a pole
Of a Chinese net
To have a safe shelter
From the rain violated sea
And from the monsoon ravaged sea
The sea-gull with no canopy
Sat on the pole with a rain bath
That she welcomed with screams.
But a gun targeting her
From the anchored ship
Made a deafening sound
That peeped through the rain wall
And hit the heart
Of the sea-gull
With a bullet flushed
By the trigger of the barrel
Of an unknown hunter
Sat on the back of the vessel
Who freed the soul of sea-gull
That moved to the eternal canopy.
poem by Vadakkumpurath Ramesan
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Canopy Of Broken Bones
I live under the canopy of broken bones
where my life’s demons lay,
sheltering under their scornful gaze
as night passes through to day.
Where the robbers of my soul
stand in mocking line
with claws that slash
the moments memories in time.
As darkness enraptures the night
the demons return
to the canopy of broken bones
to stare their scornful gaze
at my paradise lost
in the thunder of tormented yells.
poem by David Harris
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On a Line from Valéry (The Gulf War)
The whole green sky is dying.The last tree flares
With a great burst of supernatural rose
Under a canopy of poisonous airs.
Could we imagine our return to prayers
To end in time before time's final throes,
The green sky dying as the last tree flares?
But we were young in judgement, old in years
Who could make peace; but it was war we chose,
To spread its canopy of poisoning airs.
Not all our children's pleas and women's fears
Could steer us from this hell.And now God knows
His whole green sky is dying as it flares.
Our crops of wheat have turned to fields of tares.
This dreadful century staggers to its close
And the sky dies for us, its poisoned heirs.
All rain was dust.Its granules were our tears.
Throats burst as universal winter rose
To kill the whole green sky, the last tree bare
Beneath its canopy of poisoned air.
poem by Carolyn Kizer
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The Divine Tree
In my mind I see perched upon a rocky hill
Standing firm a silhouetted tree so strong and still
Its roots extend well below the turf
Reaching deep to the centre of the earth
Its sprawling branches stretch in a canopy above
High into the sky to heaven where there’s much love
This tree is magical and a symbol for us to see
As it bears fruit, good things given by divinity
Of love compassion, peace and self awareness
To visualise the tree is a privilege I confess
But all can see if they search enough
Even though the mist at times make viability tough
The wind of your thought in its branches whisper through
And brings forth its fruit for those that stay true
And if sometimes when you try to climb to its branches on high
When life seems touch and you really have to try
The branch it may break and then you may fall
But the tree will still stand it stays there for us all
And then you must try once again you see
Each time you get further higher in the great tree
And each time you make a higher ascent
You get higher into its canopy to Heaven sent
Reveries of an Imaginary Landscape No.12 - Morning with Water
White mist
hiding the brownish patches of trees
looking upward the canopy scrumptious, vivacious
The air
cold at first
fresh, invigorating
Cool red earth
pitted and smooth, damp and vibrant
silky red flowers and burgeoning patches of green and blue
The sun
blasting, rippling through the canopy
bright dancing shadows on the red, red earth
Running water
clear, warm, from a steamy spring
shiny droplets dripping
poem by Timothy Marshal Nichols
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This Scene I Love
With a canopy of leaves high above my head,
I raise my eyes and see sunlit green and skies.
To this enraptured place my sad heart will return.
My footsteps make little sound, tramping the ground.
Occasionally a twig snaps beneath my boot,
alerting creatures, the singers and screechers.
They vanish off so very fast, with fear and dread.
A giant, me, thundering through harebells blue,
breaking all the new fronds in wild clusters of fern.
Disrupting the lives of insects, with dire affects.
Making the wise owl give out his warning hoot,
to all in this vicinity, who wish to flee.
There is rustling in this wood, where I’m calmly stood,
Just thrush and pigeon, chattering a smidgen,
as they fly into the high canopy above,
where sunlit leaves of green, bless, this scene I love.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Mystic Rythms
So many things I think about
When I look far away
Things I know, Things I wonder
Thins I'd like to say.
The more we think we know about
The greater the unknown
We suspend our disbelief
And we are not alone.
Mystic rhythms, capture my thoughts
And carry them away
Mysteries of night
Escape the light of day
Mystic rhythms, under northern lights
Or the African sun
Primitive things stir the hearts of everyone.
We sometimes catch a window
A glimpse of what's beyond
Was it just imagination
Stringing us along?
More things than are dreamed about
Unseen and unexplained
We suspend our disbelief
And we are entertained.
Mystic rhythms, capture my thoughts
And carry them away
Nature seems to spin
A supernatural way.
Mystic rhythms, under city lights
Or a canopy of stars.
We feel the powers and we wonder what they are.
Mystic rhythms, capture my thoughts
And carry them away
Mysteries of night
Escape the light of day
Mystic rhythms, under northern lights
Or a canopy of start
We feel the push and pull of restless rhythms from afar.
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Thousand Fireworks Explode
The fiery fingers of passion
left tingles down our spine
as warm caressing kisses
erupted all the senses in our mind.
A thousand fireworks exploded
as we swam loves passionate sea,
reaching the towers of heaven
that stretched along the sunset bay.
The ecstasy of passion entombed us
within its canopy of warming glow,
as love swallowed us up
and kept us locked within.
16 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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Gold Dust
sights and sounds
pull me back down
another year
i was here
i was here
whipping past
the reflecting pool
me and you
skipping school
and we make it up
as we go along
we make it up we
go along
you said -
you raced from langley -
pulling me underneath
a cherry blossom
canopy
-do i have-
of course i have
song performed by by Tori Amos from Scarlet's Walk
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Old Dead Tree
The old dead tree stood
gnarled weather torn;
its limbs were now brittle.
What stories could it tell
of the centuries it had lived,
the passing lives it had seen,
and the storms it had weathered
when it was young and strong.
When its foliage was green
and gave shelter from the rain.
Now it stands bare and broken,
a sorry sight to be seen.
It must have been beautiful
when it was young
with its canopy of green,
and a nesting place for little birds
among its evergreen.
Now they only used it
as a resting place whenever they pass by.
The old dead tree,
which had seen so much life.
17 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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My World
Your stuck on a chain
And your toeing a lie
Seems like everytime that you catch up
You only fall behind
And your trapped inside this world you made yourself
but that's not the world I live in
this is not the life for me
cause my world is bigger than your problems
and it's bigger than me
that's not the world I live in
this is not the life for me
cause my world is bigger than your problems
and it's bigger than me
There is always someone to blame
for the things you do yourself
you think that everything that's going wrong
is because of someone else
And your trapped inside this world you made yourself
that's not the world I live in
this is not the life for me
cause my world is bigger than your problems
and it's bigger than me
it's not the world I live in
this is not the life for me
cause my world is bigger than your problems
and it's bigger than me [2x]
cause i'm lonely outside and i'll look on in
And that's not the world I live in
this is not the life for me
cause my world is bigger than your problems
and it's bigger than me
it's not the world I live in
this is not the life for me
cause my world is bigger than your problems
and it's bigger than me
cause my world is bigger than your problems
and it's bigger than me...
song performed by by 3 Doors Down
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Hate...
I hate,
hate that I can't trust
I hate,
hate that I must lie because they'd rather believe I'm fine.
I hate,
hate who I've been.
I hate,
hate to make decisions.
I hate,
hate that I can't hate those I should.
I hate,
hate my life.
I hate,
hate that I can't die.
I hate,
hate to live in fear and hate.
I hate,
hate my uncertainty.
I hate,
hate the lies people tell me.
I hate,
hate that I believe.
I hate,
hate those that wish their lives were mine.
I hate,
hate all emotion that's mine.
I hate,
hate that I need others.
I hate,
hate my own d*mn incompetence.
I hate,
hate that there's so much to hate.
poem by Dama Tristeza
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Going To God
Going to God is like the heavenly angels,
Looking at them detracts you from evil;
When you dance among the clouds
Your shaking limbs carry fever as you climb
The very heights of the sky, the actual canopy.
Below the rooftop is other land,
On it you breath and talk and walk
Like anybody with sense, with very nature.
Going to a godly man is full of achievement,
Inside you they sting with learning.
poem by Naveed Akram
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San Francisco lags behind other communities in providing a vital, vibrant and ecologically sustainable urban canopy, as well as open space in the city.
quote by Gavin Newsom
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Haters I Love When You Hate Me
haters i love it when they hate
they hate on me because
i look better and dress better
but why do haters hate me
haters hate me because i steal their men
and make them want me
and hate them and
that's why haters hate me
why do haters hate you
you have better things and bigger rings
fancy thing and material things well
that's why i love when haters
hate on me and
and i tell them to keep hate
hate me if you want
hate me if you might
hate me if I'm wrong
or hate me if I'm right
hate me because I'm good looking
hate me because you are not
hate me because I'm pretty
hate me because you are ugly
hate me for whatever reason
hate me with everything you got
hate me for ignoring you
hate me for not hating you
hate me for not sinking to your level
hate me every minute of everyday
hate me for being stronger than you
hate me because I'm the person you want to be
hate me because you are pitiful
hate on.......
poem by Liioona Mohie
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Not So Soft
In a forest of stone
underneath the corporate canopy
where the sun
rarely
filters
down
the ground
is not so soft
not so soft
they build buildings to house people
making money
or they build buildings to make money
off of housing people
it's true
like a lot of things are true
I am foraging for a phone booth on the forest floor
that is not so soft
I look up
it looks like the buildings are burning
but it's just the sun setting
the solar system calling an end
to another business day
eternally circling signally
the rythmic clicking on and off
of computers
the pulse
of the american machine
the pulse
that draws death dancing
out of anonymous side streets
you know
the ones that always get dumped on
and never get plowed
it draws death dancing
out of little countries
with funny languages
where the ground is getting harder
and it was
not
that
soft
before
those who call the shots
are never in the line of fire
why
where there's life for hire
out there
if a flag of truth were raised
we could watch every liar
rise to wave it
here
we learn america like a script
playwright
birthright
same thing
we bring
ourselves to the role
we're all rehearsing for the presidency
I always wanted to be
commander in chief
of my one woman army
but I can envision the mediocrity
of my finest hour
it's the failed america in me
it's the fear that lives
in a forest of stone
underneath the corporate canopy
where the sun
rarely
filters
down
and the ground
is not so soft
song performed by by Ani DiFranco from Not So Soft
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The episode of love
The stump of friendship across grows
Into a canopy of love,
And duly pruned by the tempest
Returns to the stump of friendship.
03.08.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Jakhoo
Tread that peak
Where the deity lives
Courage, conviction, devotion mixed
That meandering path
Amidst huge deodhars
Canopy of oaks
Colour of rohododendrons
Natural abode
For his mates
Provide security till his gate
Jumps on shoulders
Probes the brain
Hands ensure
Pockets are safe.
poem by Sanjay Mehta
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Family Tree
we grow like evergreen tree
father, mother, daughter, and son
I'm only leaf on the branch family
brother, sister
the unseeing fate plants us together
wedding, birth, and funeral
blood tells no doubt
caring but annoying
there are laugh and fight in the same room
misunderstanding then forgiving
love and hate blurred into one
torn but longing for home
there are tears and comfort from the same pain
one can not judge all, one can not separate all
the root will never be destroyed
though the leaves fall or the branches die
it will grow entwined with other trees
making canopy in the wide forest of the world
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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