The Leaf As Life
A leaf I am,
Through currents incomprehensible,
Dead, the knowledge of my origin,
Severed from prior reality,
Left with a lonesome journey,
Free from all worry,
Yet the liberty makes me worry,
Fatigue rains on me,
Contemplating whether there is an end,
To the free fall of existence,
Laugh in despair, in irony,
Master of my own destiny,
Ultimate and total absurdity,
Illusions of branches above me,
Spurred by forces unbeknownst me,
Ridiculous, my desire to see,
Society but a vague curiosity,
But a weak twig of connectivity,
What truth there may be,
To me, there is only identity,
The unique traits of those leaves around me,
That is individuality,
What is left to me?
Contemplation of nihilistic Beauty,
Well, that may just be, all I know,
As I spiral down from what I suppose is a tree,
To make most of my subjectivity,
And my present fragility,
To love, laugh and truly be,
Absolutely what I wish to be,
I'll be me!
And hopefully,
Have the privilege of meeting somebody,
Who dreams like me,
Of finding this one tree,
And who can see,
What a life this one can be!
Will you join me?
(And together, we will write poetry :)
poem by Jeremy Cahoon
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Related quotes
Leaf
A single season of life
Borne of spring’s dew, released on fall’s winds
Great oak’s life running through its veins
To the forest, a gift of motion and color
Great tree, expanding out, gripping its earth
Dancing slowly in the currents of time
In an instant, illusions of stillness
Basking in brilliant sunshine
Flowing feathers in the music of the night
Silt carried by water
Returning to roots once more
Trunk, branches, ever thinner, expansive
Ever softer, edges of fragility
Branches holding mirrors for tree’s image
From the tree, our image of leaf
From the leaf, our image of tree
Leibniz' monad reflecting the whole
poem by George Kassabgi
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Beneath This Breathing Tree
Come my friend,
join me beneath this breathing tree,
and sit on the crispy grass,
smother yourself with its scene,
full of emotion and laden with wisdom,
Be ease my friend,
each worry smeared your face with wrinkles,
alas, the city neon still blind you with lies,
now that you with me under this tree,
throw all your stress and be free,
Don't worry my friend,
all the unsolved hectic of your life,
are fugitive running in its own prison,
never to be free, never to be captured,
but you my friend are their warden,
taking of a day off sitting beside me,
under this breathing tree,
Smile my friend,
under this tree there are rules to be obey,
no worry, no lies, no reality,
relax and then you will see,
it's just me,
and this breathing tree..
poem by Syafiq Syahmi
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A New leaf
There’s a new leaf upon the Tree
A thousand, thousand have been before
In the life of this great tree
Yet, the Tree rejoices, and is glad
For there is a New Leaf upon the tree
The roots are deep, and hidden
Tis one tree from root to branch
And lives in and through each leaf
The hearts’ smile resurrected
Through the New leaf upon the tree
Like the stars of heaven
New leaves have been many
And so they all are One
For they all share the same root
Bless the New leaf upon the tree
Perfection in the Blessing
Joy released in tears of love
The strength in life will comfort
From root to God above
A New leaf upon the tree
Beauty, Truth, and life
Complete from root to branch
When life’s cycle turns
Leaves fall to nourish roots
And behold, a New leaf upon the tree
poem by Adrian Wait
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March Mornings
It sings to me
- the tree, the window tree.
Its leaves open as melodies
to the sheen of Spring.
It speaks to me
its words of green,
says now is the time
for everything.
It fills my dreams
with hopes and things,
making me believe
in what is yet to be.
The tree, the window tree,
brings the birds to me.
Songs come fluttering,
sliding on sun beams.
It dances the breeze,
smiles for me
on mornings like these
- absolutely free.
It sings to me
- the tree, the sweetgum tree.
Its leaves open as memories,
like love to me.
poem by W.I. Stoneberger
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Total Freedom
In absolute oblivion
With nature and the forces of existence
Into play
Thousands years of history
Written
Some relics and the forgotten one
Gods word or the wise mans talk
Deriving meaning from the stars
Sun and the moon
Goddesses and deities
The great abstraction
In the realm of thought
Freedom remains the desire
Freedom from the bonds of the humanity
Freedom from all wants
Freedom from the will of others
Imposed or perpetuated
Freedom from ideas
In the name of social consciousness
In the collective realm of the society
Of life and death
Life in community
A dream sought after
The breaking of shackles
Of ideas and the iron chain
The evolutionist’s theory of having attained modernity
The matrix of life stuck between falsehood and reality
With great illusions
Get into the realm of total freedom
Away from the connections and strings
Whose other ends are controlled in places distant
Out from the mischief of the fate defined as luck
Make death the ultimate inspiration
Whirling into circles for the last freedom
That too is another thread of making the other being
As a final destiny of union
Unite with thyself
Leave alone all the philosophies and doctrines
Religions and beliefs
Hold the wine cup of total freedom
All alone
Without any god or fate
Discover for thyself
The ultimate truth
Enter total freedom
From self to self
Leave the saki
Drunk with the wine of total freedom
Declare it to the world
For the god to listen
For the wise to ponder
Let the angels sing into your ears
Let the beauties of paradise
Dance in front of you
In
Total freedom
poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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The Leaf And The Tree And The Roots
if i had to write it again
then i had to, as i must
let you fully understand
the true nature of a vine
the way the leaf swerves
with the wind to give itself
to a fateful fall, the one that
completes its existence as
a leaf to a tree, a part of
a whole, the way it must
settle on the ground and
be with the worms and rot
and fulfills the cycle of its
short existence, and by then
it tells the roots, i am a leaf
i am back and you must now
eat everything in me so i can
be with the bark again so i
can be a leaf again to a tree
that holds me back
and then for another time
lets me fall again.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I'm Just An Ordinary Tree
My existence
start from a little piece of seed...
First, I was bury on the ground...
Then, I showed my two cute leaves up in to world...
But it didn't end just like that...
I grow... more and more...
With love, hope and care,
I became a tree...
Tree with many leaves,
if you need some shady circumstance...
Tree with a strong wood,
if you need me to make a good wardrobe...
Tree with a tight root,
if you want to make a solid foundation...
Tree with a sincerely pray,
if you need a support...
Tree with an everlasting presence,
if you need a friend beside you forever...
Tree with a dry branch,
if you want to share your tears...
Tree with a pure dew,
if you feel thirsty...
Tree with a warm wind,
if you get cold and alone...
Tree with a full color's flowers,
if you feel your life so black and white...
Tree with many hopes,
if you lost your dreams away...
But... after all,
I'm just an ordinary Tree...
By: Tree
22 May 2007,7: 02 PM
The Willow Tree
In the graveyard stands a willow tree,
You can hide within its branches,
And it will keep you safe,
And it will keep you warm,
And it will keep all your demons at bay,
I like the willow tree,
It sets me free,
And safe within its branches it cradles me,
As I look out through its branches,
I see people crying for their loved ones,
Tears rolling down their faces,
I want to shout to them,
And let them in here with me,
I like the willow tree,
It sets me free,
And safe within its branches it cradles me,
But I can’t, I can’t let them in,
Even though I know their suffering,
Because it’s the living that hurt you,
And I don’t want too be hurt anymore,
So only my dead friends are in here with me,
I like the willow tree,
It sets me free,
And safe within its branches it cradles me,
The willow tree.
poem by Darren Harris
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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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I'm Free
I'm free
as free as the birds
as free as the clouds
as free as the wind.
I'm free to sing
even if my voice
is not like the voice of an angel
I'm free to dance
even if I'm out of the rhythm
I'm free to cry
even if it means to worry you
I'm free to laugh
even if my heart is aching
I'm free to love
even if it will only hurt me
I'm free to dream
even if I cannot reach it.
I'm free
as free as the birds
as free as the clouds
as free as the wind.
I'm free to be happy
even if I'm in the middle of crisis
I'm free to live
even if it will then
end in dying.
I'm free
as free as the birds
as free as the clouds
as free as the wind.
I'm free...
I'm free!
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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You Hung Me
It's dead, it'd dead you killed it all
you fucked me over, you watched me fall
the life you sucked right out of me
dead you hung me from tree.
My blood spills out onto the ground
it screams, it cries without a sound
there is no victory here for me
dead you hung me from a tree.
You can run but you can't hide
you'll try to say it's suicide
torn apart for all to see
dead you hung me from a tree.
I'll prove to you your world is wrong
your power has gone on way to long
watch my body swing so free
dead you hung me from a tree.
Free from you I find my peace
in a grave that's six feet deep
the cage unlocked, I found the key
dead you hung me from a tree.
poem by CJA Anderson
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The heart of a tree
With branches reaching out as if for a embrace
The tree may bow to nature with grace.
He stands alone when the wind blows strong.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eyes can't see.
Like the heart of a tree.
In winter's cold chill, You can see the tree stand still.
Leaves are gone but the tree stands strong.
Until winter turns into spring and the birds begin to sing.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eyes can't see.
Like the heart of a tree.
Through storms and the wind. Bowing with a graceful bend,
Until the sun shines again, still standing at the end,
The tree is like a true friend.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eye can't see,
Like the heart of a tree.
The old Tree's secrets
How many lovers sat together under the old tree?
If only the tree could speak.
The stories would be of weary travelers
finding a place of peace, and dreams in their sleep.
Stolen moments of lovers, perhaps a sweet caress.
A young man with a ring, a young girl said yes.
Tree I only imagine, I enjoy the guess.
Gentle breezes that lifted the leaves
to let them gently fall to earth.
Misting rain to meet the tree's thirst,
Perhaps two trees inter-twined are
Two lovers that were curst.
poem by Judy Arline Puckett
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The Strange Tree
There’s a strange tree which lives near me,
And this strange tree could not agree,
That if this tree could ever see,
A stranger tree it sure would be.
There’s a strange tree which topples me,
For this strange tree was tall, you see,
And then this tree would use its knee,
To break in three, the clouds who flee.
There’s a strange tree which lives near me,
The northern tree, its branches free,
The southern tree, no limb to see,
For this strange tree, was strange, you see?
There’s a strange tree which I can see,
And this strange tree (against my plea)
Was sent to sea, its roots now free,
And now this tree… A ship is he.
End.
0198 Buddha Meets Christ, Says Nothing
The Buddha (is that one or multiple, theologically?)
sits at his total ease in our back garden
such as it is
in his plastic only partially disguised
pool, with today a white ranunculus
floating at his feet
he’s externally nicely moulded of fine concrete
and since the fig tree with its leaves
big enough to make yourself an apron of
though you’d need apronstrings, –
has been cut down, he’s emerged
from the shadow of it which made him
unpleasantly greeny-mouldy; but now the sunlight
has dried him into a light and Springy green
which is almost fluorescent and sorta floaty
he gives interest to the garden, makes a space
of his own and also makes the garden
shapely, a focal point or some such
decorator term. He seems very happy there
-perhaps anywhere; he certainly makes me happy
to see him; he wipes thought away.
It would be poetic to say that
he was already contemplating all peacefully
when dawn broke this day of solemn days,
the Good or Bad Friday depending;
but then he seems not to worry about time anyway
under his demure, downcast eyelids
but he’s so there he’s here, and was and is,
no mere garden ornament and whatever
he sees inside, it’s there in me too
as Emerson said of this sweet contemplation
what he makes of the events of this day
is certainly a question – just suppose he’d been there
discreetly in the crowd, saying nothing, just
contemplating the scene;
and the roving cameraman spotted him
and asked for a quote
big answers deserve big questions;
maybe this half-formed question
deserves more contemplation.
I’ll just shut up and go look at him again
as the evening light reflected from
the windows of the house opposite
bathes him in an intense sunset burst of glory
with no apparent source so that he
glows with a radiant promise of peace forever
to all men; a promise as Christ’s prayer-book
puts it so memorably –
past all understanding.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Banyan Tree
Banyan tree, banyan tree
that century old banyan tree
standing grandeurly for us to see
banyan tree, banyan tree.
Cool breeze passing through
seeking blessings of banyan tree
branches shaking in approval
banyan tree, banyan tree.
Glassy green with majestic trunk
touching the earth, not breaking free
shelter home for different birds
banyan tree, banyan tree.
Yellowish streaks, some with reddish tinge
welcome every season with a glee
symbol of eternal life
banyan tree, banyan tree.
Shedding leaves, like tears falling
a grandfather lamenting on its knees
new plants cuddling around
banyan tree, banyan tree.
Lord Buddha became its buddy
meditation was the only key
peace you get underneath
that is why it is banyan tree.
Banyan tree, banyan tree
wish fullfilling, it is banyan tree
just pray here and let you see
Banyan tree, banyan tree.
A life giver and just for free
Banyan is my national pride
preserve these at any cost
don't commit a homicide?
God blessed us with banyan tree
heat absorbing banyan tree
has healing powers this banyan tree
banyan tree, banyan tree.
---- X -----
copyright/Children of Lost God/Tribhawan Kaul
All rights reserved
poem by Tribhawan Kaul
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The Giving Tree
Once there was a tree....
and she loved a little boy.
And everyday the boy would come
and he would gather her leaves
and make them into crowns
and play king of the forest.
He would climb up her trunk
and swing from her branches
and eat apples.
And they would play hide-and-go-seek.
And when he was tired,
he would sleep in her shade.
And the boy loved the tree....
very much.
And the tree was happy.
But time went by.
And the boy grew older.
And the tree was often alone.
Then one day the boy came to the tree
and the tree said, 'Come, Boy, come and
climb up my trunk and swing from my
branches and eat apples and play in my
shade and be happy.'
'I am too big to climb and play' said
the boy.
'I want to buy things and have fun.
I want some money?'
'I'm sorry,' said the tree, 'but I
have no money.
I have only leaves and apples.
Take my apples, Boy, and sell them in
the city. Then you will have money and
you will be happy.'
And so the boy climbed up the
tree and gathered her apples
and carried them away.
And the tree was happy.
But the boy stayed away for a long time....
and the tree was sad.
And then one day the boy came back
and the tree shook with joy
and she said, 'Come, Boy, climb up my trunk
and swing from my branches and be happy.'
'I am too busy to climb trees,' said the boy.
'I want a house to keep me warm,' he said.
'I want a wife and I want children,
and so I need a house.
Can you give me a house ?'
' I have no house,' said the tree.
'The forest is my house,
but you may cut off
my branches and build a
house. Then you will be happy.'
And so the boy cut off her branches
and carried them away
to build his house.
And the tree was happy.
But the boy stayed away for a long time.
And when he came back,
the tree was so happy
she could hardly speak.
'Come, Boy,' she whispered,
'come and play.'
'I am too old and sad to play,'
said the boy.
'I want a boat that will
take me far away from here.
Can you give me a boat?'
'Cut down my trunk
and make a boat,' said the tree.
'Then you can sail away...
and be happy.'
And so the boy cut down her trunk
and made a boat and sailed away.
And the tree was happy
... but not really.
And after a long time
the boy came back again.
'I am sorry, Boy,'
said the tree,' but I have nothing
left to give you -
My apples are gone.'
'My teeth are too weak
for apples,' said the boy.
'My branches are gone,'
said the tree. ' You
cannot swing on them - '
'I am too old to swing
on branches,' said the boy.
'My trunk is gone, ' said the tree.
'You cannot climb - '
'I am too tired to climb' said the boy.
'I am sorry,' sighed the tree.
'I wish that I could give you something....
but I have nothing left.
I am just an old stump.
I am sorry....'
'I don't need very much now,' said the boy.
'just a quiet place to sit and rest.
I am very tired.'
'Well,' said the tree, straightening
herself up as much as she could,
'well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting
Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.'
And the boy did.
And the tree was happy.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Gliding Upon the Written Throne in the Fallen Sky
For every dream shattered grows one new
Tree in the forest of misery, I wander
Through as the serrated leaves fall to
Cut through my empty flesh.
Aventine prison of mysticism,
The irony of beauty surrounded by utter
Blackness overwhelms my apathetic
Indifference to life and existence.
Humans were created, not to bring
Happiness, but to fight and kill each
Other only for the sadistic amusement
Of the very god they blindly pray to.
There is no message or meaning left
In life, there is no joy in being alive,
Yet there is no sanctuary in death,
Existence is hopeless, mourning the faded sunlight.
poem by Michael Robertson
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The Hanging Tree 2
The children play around the tree
Unbeknown to them of their fate to be
If the where to commit an ungodly crime
They would meet their end at a premature time
They play around the hanging tree
Where they strung up the man the say murdered three
The man’s soul could never truly die
When his death was caused by such a lie
They play around the hanging tree
Where I wait for my love still breathing to join me
So at my place of death I will stay
As I await that faithful day
They play around the hanging tree
Where I watch over her and save her for only me
But when she could finally bear it no more
She spilt her own blood upon the floor
They play around the hanging tree
Hoping that we will one day be free
To leave this world for the heavens above
To live a life purely of love
They play around the handing tree
Were a guilty conscience sets us free
The guilty one confessed to ending the life
Then took his own with a knife
poem by My Stolen Identity
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Tree makes
Tree makes life free
Do not cut tree
It is lifes industry
Life is in forestry.
Tree's talk listen
Silently tree given us
Best education
And we survive for
Tree only and tree make us
Enjoy our vacation.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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The Leaf And The Tree
When will you learn, myself, to be
a dying leaf on a living tree?
Budding, swelling, growing strong,
Wearing green, but not for long,
Drawing sustenance from air,
That other leaves, and you not there,
May bud, and at the autumn's call
Wearing russet, ready to fall?
Has not this trunk a deed to do
Unguessed by small and tremulous you?
Shall not these branches in the end
To wisdom and the truth ascend?
And the great lightning plunging by
Look sidewise with a golden eye
To glimpse a tree so tall and proud
It sheds its leaves upon a cloud?
Here, I think, is the heart's grief:
The tree, no mightier than the leaf,
Makes firm its root and spreads it crown
And stands; but in the end comes down.
That airy top no boy could climb
Is trodden in a little time
By cattle on their way to drink.
The fluttering thoughts a leaf can think,
That hears the wind and waits its turn,
Have taught it all a tree can learn.
Time can make soft that iron wood.
The tallest trunk that ever stood,
In time, without a dream to keep,
Crawls in beside the root to sleep.
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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