Madness of Deforestation
Natures Majestic Trees still, mighty,
Clawed feet grips mother earth deep,
Together holding ground as their own,
Reaching tall breathing out for others life to keep,
Vying for canopy rights, claiming the high blue sky.
Morning sunshine paints its mascara tints,
Shading green, lighting brown glinting green,
A pleasure to see the sea of leafy glints,
Amongst this growing life stands a dead giant
Like a floundering sailing ship in the cruel sea
Now a wonderful perch for the crows choir singing
“NO TREES NO ME, NO TREES NO THEE, ”
Stark dead arms reach out leafless, fingers pointing
Death comes slow to the giant that held the earth together.
Crows cawing out their signature song piercing the silence,
With their timeless silhouettes of black feather.
“Look what do you see besides this dead tree,
Caw caw, caw caw caw!
Uproot them are all for a mirrored vision of thee,
You cannot play with Mother Nature’s law.
After dearth there is no earth!
poem by Ken e Hall
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Mother Nature She Rules
For her actions Mother Nature is above any blame
Since she always treats life and death as the same
The dead of the World in her bosom lay
And she goes on living and night follows day.
Mother Nature she dons her green cloak of the Spring
And in her leafy woods nesting birds chirp and sing
The life that she gives one day she will receive
And for her dead children she never does grieve.
For to sustain us on Nature we must depend
Yet Nature is one who does not need a friend
She will live without us when the life from us gone
Forever and ever she keeps keeping on.
Her Seasons they come and her Seasons they go
And her streams and her rivers to her oceans flow
And from the Earth's most northern to the most southern shore
Mother Nature she rules and will forever more.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Autumn Leaves
I still hearken a little deep
from the rolled out time
the last song of cuckoo
humming through the hot winds.
The scents of last spring-flower
still drift through
my dried up nasal lanes.
Today walking silently
over the crackling autumn leaves
I rue for the withered
bed of roses that once paved my way
towards a breathing heaven of verve.
The parched earth and naked trees
stand before me
like fossils
of the deceased last spring.
The desiccated bed
of my garden-pond
it seems,
has no tears to shed
at her robbed off
once brimming water wealth.
Where are those bunnies
and little squirrels that sprinted,
rollicked and rocked
over my grassy lawn?
Where's grass?
Where's lawn?
Under the searing Sun
where are smiles, glee, bliss and prank?
The dead autumn leaves
under my feet
whispered in husky, crackling tones
the secret of seasons:
"We're dead...interred we reach soon
our mother roots' bed.
We'll sprout again
as leaves tender, sleek and charming...
no death to us...
no dearth
for green-green wealth.
Every autumn is followed
by a new spring.
poem by Sathya Narayana
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A Pleasant Autumn Day
A pleasant Autumn day of wind and sunshine
And yellow leaves depart their trees and fall
To Mother Earth who silently receives them
And wattlebirds on flowering gum trees call.
On this quiet side street of inner suburbia
The leaves are dying on the deciduous tree
But were i a poet I'd put my pen to paper
And write of the great beauty that i see.
For Nature's beauty can be found in strangest places
Far from the countryside it can be seen
Deciduous trees are golden brown in Autumn
And gums and wattles rich and evergreen.
And many urban people too love Mother Nature
And of workings of Nature there is much to know
They love to hear the birds sing in their gardens
And take pride in plants and trees they helped to grow
I respect those who respect Mother Nature
The damage done to her they try to mend
For Nature brings her beauty to all Seasons
And to every Nature lover I'm a friend.
In quiet side street in inner suburbia
Deciduous leaves to Mother Earth drift down
And wattlebirds are calling on the gum trees
And Mother Nature too lives in the town.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Naturally Green
My mother always enjoyed
Picnics on lushes green grass
With trees to show
How green Mother Nature keeps
Her house of plants
Without green
There may be no greed
But it is that of the apple
That keeps us whole
Without care,
Green turns to brown.
With love,
Green grows strong.
When green turns to yellow
We go slow
So never let green
Turn red with envy
Or life may go
In a direction
You did not choose
poem by Scot Warren
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Sonnet: Nature Heals Itself
Just when I thought the tree was surely dead,
New leaves began to sprout up once again;
And soon, it wore a green crown on its head;
It had been resurrected by the rain!
Dumb-founded, astonished, perplexed I stood!
The tree that was deemed dead now was alive;
A canopy of green covered the wood,
And made me happy for the tree was live!
What a remarkable feat of Nature!
Impossible a task, it had performed;
Never underestimate her stature;
If left to man, the tree would have been harmed.
Thou art thine own healer, Nature Mother!
Can a human do than thee much better?
poem by John Celes
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Trees
Trees, please me
To sit and watch them grow
As from a seed,
They do breed,
And from the Earth and Wind they grow,
Reaching up towards the clouds
And swaying in the breeze,
It always makes me feel so proud,
To sit, and watch a tree.
Earth is the Father,
Protecting his precious child,
While Mother is Nature,
Giving protection from the wild.
Trees, please me
Living from a seed,
Living in awe,
And growing so tall,
Entertains both you and me.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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The Creators Touch
The Creators Touch
His hand is in everything
In the air we breathe with all living things
The sky's that rain down upon thee
Into the oceans deep and blue
He brush's the colours
Of Mother Natures easel of life
That paints into life
The birds the bee's
Along with the beauty
Of the flowers and tree's
He writes the songs
That the birds sing in the morn
He sways the trees
As the winds rush through thee
He's the droplet of snow
Up high on the mountain top
The raging white rapids
Down a mountains stream
The sun and moon
That shines down upon me
The Creator touch's all
He is everything
poem by Kaila George
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One Thing With You
one thing with you
is this belief that i am nothing but just the idea
that i have been feeding you.
is it really only about sex?
i like it to be that way, but it is not really
i am a leaf feeling my way all through the air
floating like a feather from a restless bird high on air
scratching its side and then
letting go
i am a leaf falling
enjoying my trip down to the bottom of the earth
looking for a landing field,
a green green patch of grass
i like the dews early morning
i like the trees where the fingers of the morning sun are piercing
like a miracle
there is one thing with you
you do not believe in what i believe in
what is it? let things be themselves as they open.
do not think. just watch.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lxv.
The mother’s grace that I do awake
The mother who forever looks after me
In golden light of the blessed daybreak
To crimson evening, in both I do agree
Mother of the children under her wings
Mother of trees, of rocks and of the rivers
Of thee Mother Nature dose my song sings
All that we know, to know thou art cleaver
With it has thee fashioned all living creatures
Under thou grace, because of it all things are
Deep within thy mercy you seek to capture
We poets who think thee God are not bizarre.
O Mother Nature, mother of us all
Before thee do we stand in utter awl.
poem by David E. Patton
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Majestic Beauty
She sat atop a hill
And was struck by
The beauty that lay
At her feet
The billowing clouds
Floated in a sky of blue
The mountain stood tall
That engulfed in its
Majestic beauty
As far as the eye can see
The grass as green
As the meadows of spring
The morning sunshine
Shines down upon you
Its beauty, its splendors
At Mother Natures poetic strings
Caressing the child
That looks with innocent eyes
That moves your soul
And takes your breath away
Oh what a sight
That befalls unto thee
Are we not lucky to be?
Apart of this Majestic scene
poem by Kaila George
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Forest Primeval
Forest Primeval
As I walk through
this forest realm.
Breathing in
the mellow mist of scents,
the molting leaf, the broken bark
of times past.
My skin breathes in
the cool kiss of morning air.
I exhale breathless,
in the presence,
of such divine beauty.
I reach out to touch
the divinity of life
of this forests sweet soul.
And to my blissful sense
I see the green hue of
Giant living trees.
So tall above the earth
And yet they humbly bow,
To earth in holy intent.
Giving the breath of life,
To this dweller that walks there.
Returning the fragile cool air
To their companion beings.
I humbly accept the kiss of life
From these magnificent
Redwood oracles.
So ancient and wise above all.
In gratitude and love I vow
To protect all life Here.
In this holiest place
Of God's creation.
poem by Lynne FincherSpringarden
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The Law Of Nature Has No Mercy
those who swatted a fly
gathered eggs of birds
torn a wing of the butterfly
bit a bee, clawed a cow,
those who scared the crow
belted a bull, flagged a fluke
be aware
that the law of nature has
no mercy
you shall be punished
and swatted too, and torn
and bitten, and clawed, and
scared, and belted, and
flagged to death,
you burned the grass
you shall be burned
and you shall die under the
merciless law of nature
you shall perish but the
earth has become green again
the trees shall be trees again
to embrace another forest
the rivers become rivers
the sea shall be the old sea again
boundless, wide, and mysterious
for the earth shall remain
and those that abused it
shall perish forever.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Mother's Soul
When the moon was horned the mother died,
And the child pulled at her hand and knee,
And he rubbed her cheek and loudly cried:
'O mother, arise, give bread to me!'
But the pine tree bent its head,
And the wind at the door-post said:
'O child, thy mother is dead !'
The sun set his loom to weave the day;
The frost bit sharp like a silent cur;
The child by her pillow paused in his play:
'Mother, build up the sweet fire of fir !'
But the fir tree shook its cones,
And loud cried the pitiful stones:
'Wolf Death has thy mother's bones!'
They bore the mother out on her bier;
Their tears made warm her breast and shroud;
The smiling child at her head stood near;
And the long, white tapers shook and bowed,
And said with their tongues of gold,
To the ice lumps of the grave mold:
'How heavy are ye and cold!'
They buried the mother; to the feast
They flocked with the beaks of unclean crows.
The wind came up from the red-eyed east
And bore in its arms the chill, soft snows.
They said to each other: 'Sere
Are the hearts the mother held dear;
Forgotten, her babe plays here!'
The child with the tender snowflakes played,
And the wind on its fingers twined his hair;
And still by the tall, brown grave he stayed,
Alone in the churchyard lean and bare.
The sods on the high grave cried
To the mother's white breast inside:
'Lie still; in thy deep rest bide!'
Her breast lay still like a long-chilled stone,
Her soul was out on the bleak, grey day;
She saw her child by the grave alone,
With the sods and snow and wind at play.
Said the sharp lips of the rush,
'Red as thy roses,O bush,
With anger the dead can blush !'
A butterfly to the child's breast flew,*
Fluttered its wings on his sweet, round cheek,
Danced by his fingers, small, cold and blue.
The sun strode down past the mountain peak.
The butterfly whispered low
To the child: 'Babe, follow me; know,
Cold is the earth here below.'
The butterfly flew; followed the child,
Lured by the snowy torch of its wings;
The wind sighed after them soft and wild
Till the stars wedded night with golden rings
Till the frost upreared its head,
And the ground to it groaned and said:
'The feet of the child are lead!'
The child's head drooped to the brown, sere mold,
On the crackling cones his white breast lay;
The butterfly touched the locks of gold,
The soul of the child sprang from its clay.
The moon to the pine tree stole,
And silver-lipped, said to its bole:
'How strong is the mother's soul !'
The wings of the butterfly grew out
To the mother's arms, long, soft and white;
She folded them warm her babe about,
She kissed his lips into berries bright,
She warmed his soul on her breast;
And the east called out to the west:
'Now the mother's soul will rest!'
Under the roof where the burial feast
Was heavy with meat and red with wine,
Each crossed himself as out of the east
A strange wind swept over oak and pine.
The trees to the home-roof said:
' 'Tis but the airy rush and tread
Of angels greeting thy dead.'
poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford
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Crows
THEN, suddenly, I was aware indeed
Of what he said, and was revolving it:
How, in the night, crows often take to wing,
Rising from off the tree-tops in Drumbarr,
And flying on: I pictured what he told.
The crows that shake the night-damp off their wings
Upon the stones out yonder in the fields,
The first live things that we see in the mornings;
The crows that march across the fields, that sit
Upon the ash-trees' branches, that fly home
And crowd the elm-tops over in Drumbarr;
The crows we look on at all hours of light,
Growing, and full, and going these black beings have
Another lifetime!
Crows flying in the dark
Blackness in darkness flying; beings unseen
Except by eyes that are like to their own
Trespassers' eyes!
And you, old man, with eyes so quick and sharp,
Who've told me of the crows, my fosterer;
And you, old woman, upon whose lap I've lain
When I was taken from my mother's lap;
And you, young girl, with looks that have come down
From forefathers, my kin ye have another life
I've glimpsed it, I becoming trespasser-
Blackness in darkness flying like the crows!
poem by Padraic Colum
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Disappear
What would happen if i disappeared today?
Would you see through the curtain that stands in our way?
The world would be silent and still,
And the birds in the trees would have lost their goodwill.
The words that i scream and nobody hears,
The monster in the closet that nobody fears.
The earth would be green, and the sky would be blue,
And life would move on. And so would you.
They'd never remember the girl they had seen.
They'd never remember the ghost that was me.
You'd rise up high, and i'd fall apart.
And i'd fake a smile, because you broke my heart.
The earth would still be green, and the sky would still be blue,
And life would move on. And so would you.
Sequoia Trees
Trees so long that it makes a city look small.
Yet they make the Empire state building look tall.
People can climb this massive trees in the winter or the fall.
I saw pictures of people climbing one Sequoia like a mountain.
One of these days I want to climb a Sequoia tree.
I think these trees will last until the end of time.
No one should ever cut them down in their prime.
The Sequoias bark is so thick that it protects itself against fire.
They can last long winters in the Sierra.
Thick bark serves both causes which makes it unwilling to expire.
The fact that they are continually growing is very profound.
Theses trees are so tall and round.
Most people cant see the sky from the ground.
None should chop it down because it will fall
to pieces on the forest floor.
Try to make wood from those trees and you will be poor.
These famous trees are disease resistant.
One Sequoia is called the President.
On earth this is the second greatest tree giant.
The Sequoias are Americas living monument.
I find the Sequoias so hard to describe,
because they are so magnificent.
Thanks God for creating trees that cause so much excitement.
Land Rape Earth Rape
Who cares what colour your skin
when you land rape earth rape
cut down pristine life giving forest
in the name of corporate profit
leaving but dust legacy mudslides.
Weep child the mighty totara is cut down fallen
no longer forests thick stretching 120 feet high
above dense canopy bird song broadleaf trees
linear sharp pointed leaves dark green-brownish
female totara flowers red swollen nut embedded.
Weep forests are ripped apart globally
who will purchase trees preserve forest
purchase inheritance diverse ecosystems
leave tress growing for children to explore
for friends descendants future generations?
Golden Totara your bark pattern is earth skin.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Vestige
"This is the reality I need, the vestige of God in His creatures." Thomas Merton, When the Trees Say Nothing: Writings on Nature
Bright day,
seaward breezes
clearing the sky,
Can you feel the chill?
Can you hear sounds of
rushing trees,
of mockingbirds
calling
cawing crows?
Behind life's song
can you hear the beat,
the steady
basso continuo?
Oh, just gaze
hard enough
into the
living blue,
and be it!
You'll climb the
bright back of night
and enter into
the song -
the song
in the mind
of God.
poem by Steven Federle
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Examples
What kind of an example will you be
Spoke mother nature to the tree
As it stood so proudly and ever so tall
As though defying to all that it would fall
Will you place your roots deep into the Earth
Then other trees like you will then give birth
Spoke once again mother nature to the tree
Tell me please what type of example will you be.
What kind of an example will you become
Spoke the mother wolf unto her young
Will you be majestic and run fast and free
Running in packs to provide for your family.
Or will you become a mother like I became
But swearing to all you will never be tamed
While fearing no one in the the moonlight or the sun
So please tell me what type of examples will you become.
What kind of an example will you be
Spoke the mother to her daughter upon her knee
Will you be a loyal and devout and virtuous woman
Never doing the things that a lady shouldn't
Being honest and caring through the days of your life
Then being truthful and trusting when you become a wife
And will you become a mother just like me
Please tell me what type of an example will you be.
What kind of an example will you be
Spoke GOD to mother nature as she planted the tree
And what kind of an example have you become
Spoke GOD to the she wolf as she spoke to her young
What hind of an example will you then be
Spoke GOD to the mother with her daughter on her knee
The young ones will do and become from what they see
As the examples will be you spoke GOD to all three.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Life Of The Leaf
Colouring the seasons up and down,
and all around with green, red and brown,
on the end of the fingers of trees,
we dance together in the breeze,
going to and fro, always in a flap and a flutter,
whilst on the ground we block the gutter,
back to the soil which gave us birth,
decomposing upon nature’s earth.
During the seasons of summer and spring,
we suckle upon the light the sun does bring,
giving our grand mother tree,
some of Mother Nature’s energy,
absorbing her warm and loving kiss,
whilst giving you oxygen from photosynthesis,
for you see the air that you breathe,
is our gift to you, which you gladly receive.
Once we’ve died and settled upon the grass,
where the wind did come to pass,
you show us great respect,
by bending knee in genuflect,
with a broom or rake in hand,
you return us to the soil and sand,
so once again we can feed,
our mother tree, so she can seed,
and give birth to the next generation,
of leaves, who then dance in life’s celebration.
poem by Dale Mullock
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