She Wants Me
It is between the lines,
It is between the walls,
And to gather information on this love!
But, she knows me and,
That's why she wants me.
On the doorframes,
In the eyes of everyone,
And of a distinguishing mark!
But, she knows me and,
That's why she wants me.
As it was,
Sitting under an oak tree;
As it were,
Sitting under a mango tree;
But, she was still searching for me! !
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Sitting Here
Love,
Is it black or white?
Love,
Is it red or blue?
Sitting here lonely to understand the ways of love;
So tell me if you know the colour of love.
I am sitting here under a mango tree to think about it,
What is the colour of love?
Somebody should tell me now.
Love,
Is it green or yellow?
Love,
Is it brown or violet?
Oh what a lonely place to think about love!
The sun shines in all directions but,
The shade of this mango tree is my home;
Somebody should tell me the colour of love.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Under Our Tree
Like fine diamonds, the stars could shine
The evening breeze blowing so fair,
From the dark end I could see none,
And from the light end I could see you come,
The leaves will wither with honour,
Witnessing the arrival of the expected,
Under our tree was a house of love
Midnight approaches for two almost lovers,
Under our tree were moments of glee,
The romantic experiences we saw,
Under our tree was a fairtytale
The sentimental touch,
Under our tree was a moment of relaxation,
The sensetional periodic hugs,
Under that tree was a paradise,
Sitting there, sitting with you
Looking there, looking at stars,
Touching there, touching you legs,
Under our tree was a lost story
It was always you and me there,
The world see but it could never know,
Such our place was so nice to be,
Like proving something to someone,
Someone who is expecting nothing,
In pain and in joy, it remains our tree,
And for what the future has for us,
So shall we always look back at the tree,
And so shall we know where it started,
Under our tree was friendship,
Under our tree was more and more,
Under this tree shall be even more
poem by Gaylord Munemo
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Under The Lulu Tree (A nonsense poem.)
Sitting under the lulu tree
nothing makes sense at all.
The world feels as if it’s upside down
and any minute you are going to fall off.
I know this all sounds crazy,
but sitting under the lulu tree
is just how you are going to feel.
You will think the moon is green
and filled with cheddar cheese
and if you look out the window, twice
three blind mice will pass
carrying a slice on their knees.
No, I have not been having a tipple
from the good old mountain dew;
I’ve just been sitting under the lulu tree.
Now you have read this nonsense
please come and join me
and we’ll all sit together
under the lulu tree.
18 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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Fatso & His Lady!
That mango tree was no normal
It got immense love so mortal
From dawn to dusk he watered
Hoping it is never left shattered
Plucking the fruits in noon
He sat by it with all bloom.
That mango tree is no normal
It got immense love so mortal
What is it that brings that bloom
In this man so fat & hair so white
Was the thought that always rung
When I usually see him sing.
That mango tree is no normal
It got immense love so mortal
My lady love sowed this seed
& fed to it her life
I cried cried & I cried
And one day she grew up
Through ground & this is it
He told with a whisper.
That mango tree is no normal
It got immense love so immortal
Telling his tale of love
He had the last mango from it
He bore a smile on face
A tear in each eye
The seed in his palm.
That mango tree is no normal
It got immense love so mortal
Inspite of it being watered
Although I gave utmost care
In no time it became dry
And in air remained only their love……..
poem by BhanuPrakash Singh
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Broom Tree
I am sitting under the broom tree watching you,
And you came along to the entrance of my love;
But like the book of the chronicles,
I will still record what i see from here for others to read.
Sheath, heat, hat, he, as, at, has, she, the, heal!
Sitting under the broom tree to see what you are doing;
Sheath, sat, eat, ate, hate, sea, ale, seal, tea!
I'm sitting under the broom tree watching you;
And like the book of the chronicles to respect your muse.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Under The Mango Tree
i like the idea
of doing many things under the mango tree
like
watching time go by like it is a stranger
and i
am a stranger too watching time pass by
like i am so interested
with what time
can do to me
making me old
making the mango tree bloom and flower and have fruits
and they are so many
that the mango tree bends
to the ground
and time stays for a while and ripens the fruits
and make all of them
in time
fall one by one to the ground
like some kind
of withered flowers
luscious, sweet, fruits of the mango tree
falling
by the slightest passing of the wind
and then the children
come and with all joy
pick them one by one
putting what they can
under
their shirts and still rushing
to keep
and take some more
under the mango tree
all the people
are so much alike
the rushing, the taking, the joy
of always having more
and it will never stop
as i watch time slowly go by
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sitting By The Riverside
Just sitting down by the riverside,
Spreading my arms to the open wide.
Now I am free and the worlds at my feet.
I can close my eyes.
Oh love, keep me warm, keep me satisfied.
Please keep me calm, keep me pacified.
Now Im content and my life is complete.
I can close my eyes.
Sitting by the riverside with you.
I love sitting down by the riverside,
Watching the water go flowing by.
Oh, golly gee, it is heaven to be
Like a willow tree.
Spend my time just drinking wine while looking at the view.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kajura
My love for you is like the big mango tree in my compound,
Upon which sits the monkey to look at you;
But i will follow you to Hew Guinea!
Of fowls, ducks, goats ans sheep to play in this compound;
And it is like the rice and chicken that you love to eat,
But we will sleep well under this mosquito net of love.
Don't worry my love,
For the centre of my compound is this mango tree!
And we should take life as it is around us,
For my love for you is like the big mango tree in my compound.
You and i have to accept this chronology and,
There is a place for us to sit and drink at times;
So come and drink a bottle of whisky with me tonight.
Kajura my love,
I want to tell you more about myself and more about life!
But the myth of love is all that hangs arouns us,
And i am the leader around here to lead you on.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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This Tree
Sitting underneath this tree
I wonder,
Has anyone else held this possession.
The elevated structer in the distance
seemed muffled somehow,
and for the first time, I could see
that sitting underneath this tree,
this strucure, this tree elevated,
is the farthest distance for me
and for that I'm elated
poem by Cheryl Polk
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Boasting About Trees
There you stood among other trees
In a garden of legendary emeralds
Your luxuriant leaves waving to the heavens
You arresting branches kissing the sky
Honey cannot be compared to thee
You are my mango tree
My enraptured eyes are still swimming in bliss
From the first time they saw you
Untouched, unspoiled and unsurpassed
Flora of such sublime character
Honey cannot be compared to thee
You are my mango tree
My heart swims in the deluge of desire
Sweet songs of attraction, passion and fire
It is you that awakens my appetite
My dulcet cynosure
Honey cannot be compared to thee
You are my mango tree
Others may boast of oranges and apples
Grapes and pears and pomegranates too
I will be silent until I talk of you
And from my lips will dropp the words
Honey cannot be compared to thee
You are my mango tree
poem by Howard Simon
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Tree
I know, my tree won't live any a week,
I know, my tree in that city is sentenced to death.
But I am all time with it:
I'm tired of all the other affairs,
I think, that it is my house here,
I think it to be my close friend.
I planted a tree.
I know, that pupil could break my tree tomorrow.
I know, my tree will leave me certainly.
But in the time, when it is living, I'm sitting closely,
I feel a great joy, and pain also.
I think it to be my world.
I think it to be my son, indeed.
I had planted the tree.
song, lyrics by Victor Tsoi, translated by Lyudmila Purgina
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The Picnic Tree
The picnic tree
abandoned years ago
in a forest
that was once lush
and full of life and love
I sit beneath it
closed eyes
and imagining
my grandparents
newly wed
sitting in the meadow
full of little white flowers,
lush Kentucky blue grass,
and a picnic
all under a tree
I imagine
a grill getting stuck in the tree
only to rust its way to the ground
to be discovered
by younger generations
on four wheelers
the picnic tree
is true history
poem by Suzie Quincy
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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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Elm Tree
I lay under this elm
tree hoping to forget
all the sadness
I've witness in this sad
life of mine
I lay there dreaming
of a better life with
nothing but happiness
when he sits down next
to me to say hi beautiful
I open my eyes to see this
handsome angle sitting next
to me glowing like a shining
star...I'm afraid that I'm
still dreaming in till he brushes
my cheek with his hand
he says again hello beautiful
girl why are you all alone
he lays down by me and says
I don't understand how such
a pretty girl would always
be alone we talk for hours
and fall asleep under the elm tree
and when I woke he was gone
without a trace of him
being around again I
start a great guy want such
a horrible girl like me
I'm a sad excuse for a girl
I sit once again all alone
under this elm tree wishing
that guy would come back
so I'm not alone under this elm tree
crying my eyes out with the
hope that I will soon find
the right tree to sit under
poem by Lovely Kayla Bear
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Brooding Silently
Entire age was spent in search
of self ultimate and he was still
unable to redeem a sad tree.
The silent unglorious drop. Florets falling
one by one like dreams.
White spread. Orange opus. Good-
bye crescent. Blue sky shying away.
A cuckoo on mango grove starts
a melodious croon. Sweet allegation
of betrayal, but for what gain?
Pain bounces back in the eyes of
a sparrow. Cannot find a window to
enter. Concrete walls. Closed doors.
Ad infinitum will move the traffic.
Where to stop? And when to fly?
Qualities were crashing down. Faint
bruises on face. Sticking plaster on
eyes. So many already gone to galaxy.
Sitting on a garbage dump.
He was brooding silently.
poem by Satish Verma
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A cripple ant near a Mango tree
I have heard about the tasty fruit when it ripens
and the legend says lightning won't peep to your premises
if you grow a mango tree in your yard,
But I am very unhappy as I cannot climb on my neighbour's tree.
* I humbly dedicate this poem to the authoress of the novel 'The House on Mango street' written by Sandra.Cisneros.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Watching For Pa
Three little forms in the twilight gray,
Searching the shadows across the way;
Two pair of black eyes, and one of blue --
Brimful of love, and of mischief too;
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
May, with her placid and thoughtful brow,
Beaming with kindness and love just now;
Willie the youngest, in anguish did lay,
Stealing sly kisses from sister May,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
Nellie, with ringlets of sunny hue,
Cosily nested between the two;
Pressing her cheeks to the window pane,
Wishing the absent one home again.
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
Now there are shouts from the window seat;
There is a patter of childish feet;
Gaily they rush through the lighted hall --
"Coming at last" is the joyful call.
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Standing on the doorstep,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Standing on the doorstep,
Watching for Pa!
poem by Henry Clay Work
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Mustard field
One day while walking in a mustard field,
I found a swing hanging on a mango tree,
mustard flowers were swirling with breeze,
birds were singing on tree,
there I found a swing on mango tree,
its ropes were long and thick,
I rode on it,
it moved up in the air like a bird,
and return back to move up there,
I saw a well from up there,
and bird nest on tree on back in the air,
the swing was moving here and there,
it was not aware of who I am,
just it was giving me feeling divine,
without any question or discrimination,
I found joy to fill my heart and I lived that moment like a bird!
poem by Hemu Gupta
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A Bird's Happiness
A cherry hello to you
So the bird said to me
I asked him why he was happy
As he was sitting in a tree
I looked at him in the tree
And wondered what he was doing
Then he said that he saw a worm
And it was what he was pursuing
So we should take lessons
From the bird in the tree
Ashe was getting ready to build a nest
As he had use to be
Then he returned to his nest
As happy as could be
He sang and sang
As he was in the tree.
poem by Dolores Mahan
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A Poem Of Syntax
A poet and his bird, his dog, his cat and his tree
A poet and the bird in the tree
A poet and his dog in the tree
A poet and his dog in the tree and the wind and the cloud
The bird in the tree, the dog in the tree, the cat in the tree,
The bird in the tree, the dog on the tree, the cat under the tree,
The bird on the tree, the bird in a tree, a bird in a tree, a bird in the tree,
And the wind and the cloud and the poet and his dog and his cat and the tree
The dog chases the cat the cat chases the bird
And they all arrive in that tree
Where the poet is sitting under that tree
The poet takes the dog and the cat was envious
And the bird looks at them in silence
The silence looks at the poet in the eye
Of the cat and the bird flies away
The poet and the dog is the poem of friendship
The cat and the dog is the poem of the endless natural quarrels
And the bird that flies away against the cat and the dog and the poet and the tree
And flies against the wind that the bird is now fighting
And the clouds that seem so blue and blue
The bird that actually flies away
Is actually me
I was not the poet with the dog
I am not the tree I am not the wind I am not the cloud I am not the poet there who had a dog as friend and I was not the quarrelsome thing from the blue and out of the blue
I am the bird with wings and I always fly away to places
Against the wind to places where I can be as always be the bird with wings in silence
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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