From memory tree
rotten apples fall as pall
rises future free.
haiku by Jonathan Robin (27 April 2010)
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Busheled Together
See those apples hanging ripe,
All yet to fall...
From that one tree.
Even though they appear,
To look the same...
If one should examine closer,
Each would have a unique and distinct...
Quality.
Although on that one tree,
One may declare...
Them to have similar identities.
Upon tasting from those apples picked,
One will come to a core...
With seeds inside of it.
And delicious is a sweetness,
When the juice is licked.
But when busheled together from that one tree,
Some may have blemishes.
While others upon inspection may be blemish free.
And all of them have been witnessed,
To be the product of the same tree.
See those apples hanging ripe,
All yet to fall...
From that one tree.
Even though they appear,
To look the same...
If one should examine closer,
Each would have a unique and distinct...
Quality.
And when busheled together,
They are all apples.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unripe Apples don't fall
Take time to prepare
and develop your idea
Norture it with care
This is my call
Unripe Apples don't fall
Unless you shake the tree
Standing tall
A bitter fruits taste
Only goes to waste
Like a rotten Apple
Down to the core
Try to dedicate
Think Straight
Proceed with emotions
Before your new introduction
An Apple has five seeds
Clear out all the weeds
This is my call
Unripe Apples don't fall
Unless you shake the tree
Standing tall
Copyright 2005 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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The Cat and The Apple Tree
A house in the garden
Un-robed compound
Dried leaves stretched out
Under an apple tree
Ripen apples fell down
And on the tree like bulbs
Being rotten lied on the floor
Making a quite picture
Leaves fall one by one
Letting to be naked
Surrounding nature gets ready
To warm up the winter
Through a side opened window
An old cat was sitting on the sill
Saying something to ins and outs
On one cannot understand
Postman comes and puts into the box
On one comes to open it
A rain with a rough wind last night
Ruined the apple tree
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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Zambians Shall Be Free
Zambia won the African Cup of Nations on Sunday the 12th of February 2012,
And, the jubilation of the Zambians were seen all over the country!
For the highly emotional victory was dedicated to,
25 players of their National Team who died in a plane crash nearly two decades ago;
But, the Zambians shall always be free! !
Be, bean, been, beans, being, beings, bee, bees;
But Zambians shall be free!
And like the muse of the African Cup of Nations,
But, they won Ivory Coast on penalties to carry the cup.
Zambians shall be free! !
Shall, hall, ball, tall, call, wall, mall, pall, fall, gall, stall, quall, all;
And, in Libreville they remembered the past.
Zambians shall be free!
And, Zambia won the African Cup of Nations for the first time;
Free, fee, bee, see, tree, three, nee, lee, Lee, gee! !
But in memory of the 25 National Players who died nearly two decades ago,
For this major trophy will remind them always of their hard work towards the games.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Inspiration from Newton's law....
The story
goes like this…
There is an apple, and
there is a tree. “The apple, ” it
is said, “does not fall far from the tree.”
So why is it…when I look up at the tree,
that has shaded and sheltered me;
Why don’t I see apples?
When
I look
up,
I
see
instead,
a glorious nut tree.
poem by Mahfooz Ali
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No Whisper, No Sound.
Look at all the cracks in this wall.
If things don't change, they will sprawl.
You've been given a warning, a simple call.
One more month to watch it fall.
Rotten apples have been landing below.
Not even worthy of picking up to throw.
Disease is evident as this tree grows.
No green grass on the other side to mow.
Rancid days and hours are spent.
Like worthless dollars on houses for rent.
Soon to wonder where the good worker went.
You've been given a warning, a simple hint.
This dear boy hasn't time to hang around.
This tree is worthless and sagging the ground.
A little nourishment and hope can be found.
I will leave in silence, no whisper, no sound.
poem by Gulliver Gimble
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Suicide Tree
You see those trees,
Standing big and tall,
Some are bent,
Because they are begining to fall.
The lightning strikes,
And hits the tree,
Some may fall,
But others don't break free.
The bullies are the lightning strikes,
The victoms are the trees,
This is what life is,
What happens when you break free.
If you see a tree that's fallen,
It broke free,
To tree heaven,
A suicide tree.
poem by Alicia Meyers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Your Ascent
How many times you’ve fallen means nothing.
It’s how many times you got up that make the difference.
Your climb toward life’s summit will suffer falls if you’ve charted a high enough course.
Each fall only makes your ascent sweeter if you arise wiser and continue.
Plan your next step rather than fearing your next fall.
If you start with fear, you have already fallen even before taking your next step.
During your ascent, you will rise and fall like the sea.
As the falls rise take care; as the rises fall take heart.
Beware of a slide masquerading as smooth ride.
As the tempo quickens, remember a fall is fast, an ascent slow.
Look ahead with your eyes and behind with your memory.
While ascending don’t let your vision be blurred by your memory.
Remember the past only as it can relate to your present and future.
The past without reference is nothing, but the past with only remorse is worse than nothing.
See the present for what it is rather than should have been.
Live the present before it is the past while planning for the future before it is the present.
During your ascent think quickly, but deliberately.
What you have put behind will gain on you if you don’t keep moving ahead.
Keep your mind on the summit, your eyes on the ascent and your foot on the very next step.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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The Great Oak Tree
There grew a little flower
'Neath a great oak tree:
When the tempest 'gan to lower
Little heeded she:
No need had she to cower,
For she dreaded not its power -
She was happy in the bower
Of her great oak tree!
Sing hey,
Lackaday!
Let the tears fall free
For the pretty little flower and the great oak tree!
When she found that he was fickle,
Was that great oak tree,
She was in a pretty pickle,
As she well might be -
But his gallantries were mickle,
For Death followed with his sickle,
And her tears began to trickle
For her great oak tree!
Sing hey,
Lackaday!
Let the tears fall free
For the pretty little flower and the great oak tree!
Said she, "He loved me never,
Did that great oak tree,
But I'm neither rich nor clever,
And so why should he?
But though fate our fortunes sever,
To be constant I'll endeavour,
Ay, for ever and for ever,
To my great oak tree!"
Sing hey,
Lackaday!
Let the tears fall free
For the pretty little flower and the great oak tree!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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From A Suggested But Wrong Tree
They've been reaching to grab apples,
From a suggested but wrong tree.
They chose to accept,
Their own offerings not as competitive.
And...
Their own apples just as sweet.
And far more delicious to nourish and eat.
They have been conditioned to ignore,
The brightness of their own colors...
Many others said they adored.
Letting those apples dropp and rot.
Only to discover too late,
The weakness of their branches...
That could have sustained them to enhance.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Our Tree
When spring comes round, our apple tree
Is very full of flowers,
And when a bird sits on a branch
The petals fall in showers.
When summer comes, our apple tree
Is very full of green,
And everywhere you look in it
There is a leafy screen.
When autumn comes, our apple tree
Is full of things to eat.
The apples hang from every branch
To tumble at our feet.
When winter comes, our apple tree
Is full of snow and ice
And rabbits come to visit it...
We think our tree is nice.
poem by Marchette Chute
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Magnolia Tree
I want to take pictures
of this magnolia tree
and I am standing
here and there
near and far
from this magnolia tree.
This magnolia tree
is perfect
but the rotten house beside
and the electric wires above...
oh,
I don't want them
in the picture.
This magnolia tree
it's deep purple color
oh, so deep
that I can feel the drowning
of my whole being
into it.
I want to take pictures
of this magnolia tree
and I am now spending an hour
figuring out how
without the wires
and the rotten house.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Fee
This tree has no trouble
And I have no trouble.
I have no trouble
With this trouble-free tree.
This trouble-free tree
has no trouble
With a trouble-free me.
This trouble-free tree
has no trouble. This tree
has no trouble.
And I have no trouble
With a trouble-free me.
But were I to be free
Of a trouble-free me,
This trouble-free tree
Spells trouble for me.
Were this tree to be free
Of this trouble-free tree,
There might even be
A real trouble-spree.
This is to say, “See,
Trouble exacts a fee:
A price (in fact) to see
This trouble-free tree.”
[5-23-07 Berkeley]
poem by David Floren
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Unripe Apples Fall
Unripe apples fall
and lie wasting on the ground,
spots spreading into brown,
circles, decaying, waiting
for sun and time to gently take
seminal seeds into the warm earth.
Small birds fall
down low
from their high, swaying tree,
to where patient
fallen apples
melt and glow.
Two looming hawks rise
waiting for the time to be right,
to turn their dark wings
and with swift silent stroke
give feathered death
to these surprised souls,
casting them like seeds
into the dark soil.
poem by Steven Federle
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I Want To Be Free
(words & music by jerry leiber - mike stoller)
Theres no joy in my heart,
Only sorrow
And Im sad
As a man can be
I sit alone in the darkness
Of my lonely room
And this room
Is a prison to me
I look at window
And what to I see
I see a bird
Way up in the tree
I want to be free free
Free - ee - ee - ee
I want to be free
Like the bird in the tree
What good are my eyes,
They cant see you
And my arms,
They cant hold so tight
I have two lips
That are yearning,
But theyre no good to me
Cause I know I cant kiss you tonight
I look at window
And what to I see
I see a bird
Way up in the tree
I want to be free free
Free - ee - ee - ee
I want to be free
Like the bird in the tree
I want to be free
Like the bird in the tree
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nobility Of The Tree
Immovable dogmatic staunch
yet kind thousands
of people did climb
even those
careless at times
Would thee hurt
bark bend limb
shake a leaf
hear tree moan
Forgave them all for
such trespass
greatfull for no fall
clinging to mountain side
So long memory dim
unto dimension
noble tree
By seed new rooted
fresh sapling
growth memory of
tree lives on
No passer by pluck
tree inch high
from such
forth tree
Three hundred feet high
or none
may know such as
the word of grace
so unfold for the
next thousands
to trek said same
path
poem by Uloia Norris Moore
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You're The Future
Kid's use your mind's
Don't fall behind......
You're the future.
Kids use your minds......
Lets take it one step at a time......
Don't break the rules......
Lets stay in school......
So that ys can,
Have a brighter future......
Kids use your minds......
Don't fall behind......
You're the future.
Knowledge is the power
And the key......
Use it to build a brighter future,
And to make a better world......
Don't give into negativity and
Stay away from drugs lets....
Stay drug free......
Kids use your minds......
Don't fall behind......
You're the future.
poem by Melvin Lightford
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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.
A Review
the tree was loaded with apples
in the garden of Eden
and Eve was so Hungry
for apples she always dreamed of apples
even if Adam is just beside her
that jejune
she is the first jejemon,
and on that day when God was not watching
when the Snake was merely behaving like a Snake
she touches an apple
her dream
and he ate one and Adam so likes it
she takes a bite...
nothing new really, just a pass and review
of their story that we believe without any question at all
the moral lesson: reflect on ourselves, we are the consistent
gullible readers
we are never original on this.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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