Stumped
I slump upon a stump,
Beside a clump of moss,
Pondering the universe,
Life and love and loss.
Then I hear a 'thump! '
Another tree has fallen,
And all throughout the forest floats
A fog of spores and pollen!
poem by Joshua Dinkin
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Related quotes
Indiana's Clump O' Trees
There's a Clump O' Tree here
and a clump O' tree there
Driven' in my car
I see um everywhere
In duh country
They're all I see
Field.. field
Clump o' tree!
In me old truck
Driven' down highway 3
listening to my music
in clump o' tree country
You probably never noticed um
that make you stupid you see
now don't forget
the important clump o' tree
poem by Summer Song
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The Blue Tit's Nest
Some childhood memories with us seem to linger
And I recall when I was nine or so
Of seeing blue tit fly from hole in standing tree stump
One April day more than forty years ago.
I stood on tip toes and tried to look inside the tree stump
But all seemed dark in there I needed light
I hurried back home for to fetch a flash lamp
And what I saw a memorable sight.
A little nest of moss and hay and lined with feathers
And nine pale eggs with freckles brown to red
Laid by the little bird with yellow unders
Blue wings and tail and tiny blue cap on head.
I marvelled at this wondrous sight of Nature
How one small bird so many eggs could lay
The memory all those years has remained with me
And I still can picture what I see today.
I still can picture forty five years later
Nine speckled eggs in nest of moss and hay
Some things from childhood always remain with us
And from the memory never fade away.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Sound Of Youth Passing
Why is it
that little children
who weigh
almost nothing
move like a herd of elephants?
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Eden No More
Oh why dose the
Teardrops fall
From above
It mourns the loss
Of Eden no more
Man and wife
The creator did make
In his own image
A miracle of love
Hand in hand
They nurtured the land
That God gave to thee
For prosperity
Amongst the beauty
The garden of life
There laden a tree
Baring the fruit
Of knowledge and life
One simple rule
That he gave to thee
Thou shalt not
Taste the forbidden fruit
From the apple tree
But alas there lived
Amongst the fruit
Of the tree of life
A fallen angel
That tempted mans wife
He convinced the maiden
To take one simple bite
One simple bite
That changed the rest
Of her life
The texture was crisp
And it tasted so sweet
A forbidden fruit
That was divine
To the taste
Its taste so sweet
She needed
To share the
Divinity that
Had fallen from
The apple tree
Said fallen to Eve
Take heed of my word
He will love you evermore
If you share this divinity with thee
Believing it to be so
Young Eve did show
Her husband the tender
Fruit from yon tree
The fallen just smirked
At how easy to sow
The seeds that will
Embellish mans fate
In the page's of time and history
poem by Kaila George
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Frosty The Snowman
Frosty the Snowman
Was a jolly happy soul
With a corncob pipe and a button nose
And two eyes made out of coal
Frosty the Snowman
Is a fairytale they say
He was made of snow
But the children know
How he came to life one day
There must have been some magic
In that old silk hat they found
For when they placed it on his head
He began to dance around
Frosty the Snowman
Was alive as he could be
And the children say
He could laugh and play
Just the same as you and me
Frosty the Snowman
Knew the sun was hot that day
So he said let's run
And we'll have some fun
Now before I melt away
Down to the village
With a broomstick in his hand
Running here and there all around the square
Saying catch me if you can
He led them down the streets of town
Right to the traffic cop
And he only paused a moment when
He heard him holler stop
Frosty the Snowman
Had to hurry on his way
But he waved goodbye
Saying don't you cry
I'll be back again some day
Thumpety thump thump
Thumpety thump thump
Look at Frosty go
Thumpety thump thump
Thumpety thump thump
Over the hills of snow
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Birth of art
The sponge in the sea
Seeding it with million spores
The night lit by a full moon
The spores
Appear as dust
Like a sigh like a breath
The sea is now
Full of millions of sponge spores
Comes maleness
Fertilization of the dusts
The birth of art
Bursting
Like the new corals
The sea flowers
In long crowded Array
On the ocean floors.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Best Teacher
she is my best teacher
my love teacher
she taught i to kiss
taught i how to miss.
She ushered me into the circle of love
where my head spinned of her glory
she moulded my fragile heart
with precision she ignited it.
Thump thump thump!
It goes in her presence
i feel it
i see it in her eyes
the gleam the twinkle
speak of a sincere love
i guess am understanding
this lesson of love.
poem by Pen anthony
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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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Hope Floats
Even as things go downhill
And life becomes hell
Hope floats
Even as the world deserts you
And friends are few
Hope floats
Even as the only thing you have
Is a loneliness that is scary
Hope floats
Even as all seems lost and
Time remains a few grains of sand
Hope floats
Even as life seems beyond complaint
And strains of joy become faint
Hope floats
There may be nothing else to do
Than survive
And yet…as the self becomes distant
From the soul
There’s a voice that says
Hope floats...
poem by Akshaya Shah
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Happy Man
Merely by chance
Very unsuspecting
You caught my heart
Unprotecting me
Now Ive fallen in love with you
Just when I thought
I was free and easy
You came along to me
Soft and breezy
Now Ive fallen in love with you
Woo hoo
Ive fallen in love with you
And for the first time in my life
I know what its like to be a happy man
Happy man
And for the first time in my life
Youve given me something I cant understand
Being a happy man
Be with me now
Love me forever
Leaving you lady
Is something that Id never do
Ive fallen in love with you
All of my life it seems I have waited
Now I can say all these words I have stated are true
Ive fallen in love with you
Woo hoo
Fallen in love with you woo hoo
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lady Gaga
She has 'it'!
But what is 'it'...
That everyone admits,
Is hip?
It's that staccato,
That belongs to Lady Gaga.
The beat is fresh and really rips.
No one who hears it can just sit.
She came upon the scene as Lady Gaga.
'Gimme lights.
I gotta move my hips.
Step left to right.
And shake my rear.
With nuevo class.
And a bass that pumps.
Rock nonstoppin'
Feel that thump
de thump.
Feel that thump
de thump.
Feel that thump
de thump.
Feel that thump! '
'Gimme lights.
I gotta move my hips.
Step left to right.
And shake my rear.
With nuevo class.
And a bass that pumps.
Rock nonstoppin'
Feel that thump
de thump.
Feel that thump
de thump.
Feel that thump
de thump.
Feel that thump! '
It's that staccato,
That belongs to Lady Gaga.
'Gimme lights.
I gotta move my hips.
Step left to right.
And shake my rear.
With nuevo class.
And a bass that pumps.
Rock nonstoppin'
Feel that thump
de thump.
Feel that thump
de thump.
Feel that thump
de thump.
Feel that thump! '
'Gimme more.
Pump up that thump.
Gimme more.
Pump up that thump.
Gimme more.
Pump up that thump.
Gimme more...'
Lady Gaga!
'Gimme more.
Pump up that thump.
Gimme more.
Pump up that thump.
Gimme more.
Pump up that thump.
Gimme more...'
Two-Three
'Gimme more.
Pump up that thump.
Gimme more.
Pump up that thump.
Gimme more.
Pump up that thump.
Gimme more...'
Lady Gaga!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Mouse That Gnawed The Oak-Tree Down
The mouse that gnawed the oak-tree down
Began his task in early life.
He kept so busy with his teeth
He had no time to take a wife.
He gnawed and gnawed through sun and rain
When the ambitious fit was on,
Then rested in the sawdust till
A month of idleness had gone.
He did not move about to hunt
The coteries of mousie-men.
He was a snail-paced, stupid thing
Until he cared to gnaw again.
The mouse that gnawed the oak-tree down,
When that tough foe was at his feet—
Found in the stump no angel-cake
Nor buttered bread, nor cheese, nor meat—
The forest-roof let in the sky.
“This light is worth the work,” said he.
“I’ll make this ancient swamp more light,”
And started on another tree.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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The Green Roads
The green roads that end in the forest
Are strewn with white goose feathers this June,
Life marks left behind by someone gone to the forest
To show his track. But he has never come back.
Down each green road a cottage looks at the forest.
Round one the nettle towers; two are bathed in flowers.
An old man along the green road to the forest
Strays from one, from another a child alone.
In the thicket bordering the forest,
All day long a thrush twiddles his song.
It is old, but the trees are young in the forest,
All but one like a castle keep, in the middle deep.
That oak saw the ages pass in the forest:
They were a host, but their memories are lost,
For the tree is dead: all things forget the forest
Excepting perhaps me, when now I see
The old man, the child, the goose feathers at the edge of the forest,
And hear all day long the thrush repeat his song.
poem by Edward Thomas
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A Loss of Inner Peace.
A loss of inner peace,
as i hear the words come out,
A loss of words,
As i try to speak of it,
A loss of a love,
a love too great to convey,
But with this loss of inner peace,
I find an understanding of life.
In loving memory of
Marguerite G. Ko
U.S.M.C Marine
1961-2003
Zhang
Zhang rose from his...
Pondering
Such pondering
Much pondering
Emperor I must say:
Yes, it did start somewhere
Where...
I just don't know
As Minister of Education
I shall find out
Zhang went back to
His pondering still...
poem by Hope Hills
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The Universe...
i thought i was the universe,
but i was only a leaf.
when i fell in the forest,
there was no one to hear my cry.
when i turned brittle and brown,
no one mourned my decay.
when i became lost in the earth,
i found i was the universe!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The boy and the apple tree
Once there was a boy who used to play under an apple tree
He played so happily that it was a joy to see
As he grew old, he got bore of playing alone
Toys and gadgets he desired to be his own
So, under the apple tree the boy muttered
‘Tree can you give me toys I now desire? ’
‘Toys I don’t have, my boy, ’ the tree replied
‘But my fruits you can sell to get your toys.’
So the boy took the fruits and went away
The tree waited for his return day after day
Many years had passed and the boy got older
He married a girl to be his wife and lover
The adult boy now needing a new house for his family
Went to the tree and asked for its advice earnestly
The tree glad to see him once again said
‘My branches will be sufficient to make your nest.’
To these words the adult boy listened
And took all the branches away with him
With these he constructed a house for his family
Where he lived for several years happily
One day, the boy now a fully mature adult thought
‘It will be wise to travel around and sail the sea across’
So, he went to the now old apple tree and asked
‘Tree, can you tell me, a boat, where I can get? ’
The tree which was happy to see him again sighed and said
‘Though I am old, my stem you may take if you want’
On hearing this, the guy cut the tree down
And made a large boat, which was fine and strong
Many years had passed and the guy now became an old man
Tired from his adventures across the sea and land
He went and saw the apple tree once again
Which was now but a stump nobody would want
The old stump on seeing the old man cried
‘My old boy what can I do for you this time’
The old man on hearing this softly replied
‘I just want to lean against you till the end of my life.’
poem by Henry Chen
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The moss that loves the stone
It is the moss that loves the stone
Most. No matter what or when, the
Moss somehow manages to stay
Even without a why, they say.
But the moss keeps on sticking
To the body of the stone that
Keeps its nonminding stiffness.
It is cold, it is hard, it is unfeeling
At all. It is the moss that keeps its
Love. It sticks with it, rain or shine.
It rolls with it. It stays with it even
In the desert, even it if means its
Own death. It is the moss that sticks
To the stone. It is its true lover.
In the river, the water has ordered
The moss to leave. It ordered the stone
To crush it. The moss cannot be
Removed. It covered the stone.
It is loving it whole.The stone has
Become the moss, and the stone
Is gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Capa De Leon...
sticking upon a big tree
you thrive, you have become so huge,
sucking the rottenness
of another existence, until you begin
to wilt, but you have already prepared for
all these,
the spores are ready
all concealed beneath your
cape, and then the winds
take them all
another tree, another fool.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hammock Upon The Winds
there lies sadness like patches of green moss
sticking upon a rock half covered by the clear water of the river
one may think that sadness will always be there as patches of
what we have always wanted to get rid off like peeling them off gently from
an old sharp and rugged edged rock
sometimes you become so tired planning and doing and then surrendering into the helplessness of a fallen leaf that floats and is carried slowly by the current of the river early morning on a Sunday
when people are not around spending holidays on places that they miss for the whole week
and so one lays its tired body on the side of the river's bank
wades his hands and feels the coolness of the water and then starts to flow and release what he thinks must be given away
one feels the restfulness of finally giving up
of not minding about what cares must be done in order to make
life smoother
flowing and easier like the way the brown leaf floats
like the way the blue clouds drift
like the way we let the moss grow
upon the side of the rock
having more wet times with the clear water of the river
having a clearer view of the orange fish within and the shiny pebbles
beneath them
words lull me like i were carried by the hammock upon the arms of the unseen winds....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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