En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Book, Trees and Leaves

The book
at the used book store
had a leaf pressed between its pages,
its veins showing;
pressed flat
and brown;
an unwilling bookmark-
the pages of the ages.

The tree
its mother,
died for those pages

her offspring
flattened out
upon mother's page breast
tiny lines and squiggles
between the veins;
no tree can read
no leaf can comprehend.

I take the leaf to give it a proper burial
in the compost heap
so that its remains
have a small chance
of one day
becoming part of a tree.

I lay its leafy body down
thinking;
'I think I shall never see
anything a lovely as a tree.'
In years
a bookmark it will make
upon my backyard landscape
marking Nature's Chapter entitled
'Ironies.'

.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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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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Tree Of Dreams

My mind is a tree of growing dreams
It seems like it produces more each day
But with every day that passes
There is also a forgotten one
When you add all the forgotten ones
you get a tree that is dry
A tree with many rings
but with one leaf
One green leaf that appears
every day but also dries up
when the next day comes
When a tree only has one leaf
no one really looks at it
It is a tree with no ambition
A tree with only one dream
No one wants a tree with one dream
especially if it is never fulfilled

poem by Cokbod Lodwogo
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A Dead Leaf

between these two shores
i float like a dead leaf
am not dead either..
if i was i will not feel the pain

budded flowered and became a fruit
on one shore
eaten and as a bare stray seed laid
at the other shore

as a seed i did germinate
the mother root grew into a tree
an off spring flower and fruit came by
all along as a seed i thought i was the tree itself

I NEVER THOUGHT I WILL LOOSE
MY IDENTITY AS A SEED
CAN A TREE SHOW ITS SEED
EVEN IF IT WANTS TO

ALL ALONG...

I thought i was the tree itself
may be i was a part of each part
the stem to hold, the leaf to nourish
till fate wind blew me down as a dead leaf

today as a dead leaf i float
wanting a living from one shore
wanting relationship from the other
as a dead leaf i float..am not dead with pain

ALL ALONG....
I DID THINK I WAS THE TREE ITSELF
BEING JUST A SEED

poem by Samanyan Lakshminarayanan
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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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0240 The Poet and the Tree

Tenderly
under the tree's shade
the poet wrote;

wishing
that his poems
might have the grace
of the tree.

the tree heard
the poet's wish
and gave itself,
to share his book
leaf for leaf
for as long
as his poems lived

and so it was

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Mr Paddy's Capers.

Just when she thought
She'd found a place alone

To read her book, Mr Paddy
poked his nose between

Her and the open book, so
That pages are blanked out

By his huge head. Mr Paddy
Go off and annoy another,

She said, but he stood there
Determined to be where he

Was, between her and the
Brown covered book, held

Out in her small hands. Oh
Mr Paddy I cannot see the

Pages. Please go off and run
In the garden or in the kitchen

And steal a bone, she said. But
He wouldn't leave her alone,

He pushed his head against her
Young girl body, his damp nose

Dampening her wrist and her
White dress with blue sash, and

Dribble from his lips was wetting
The pages. Mr Paddy please let

Me be, I'm trying to read can't
You see? Mr Paddy's brown eyes

Scanned the pages, nothing there
But scribbled lines upon white paper,

And still he stood wet mouthed with
Big brown eyes and his silly old caper.

poem by Terry Collett
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The Book

My life is a leaf
Bind together in a book
Written
With sweat and blood
Pages after pages
With the taste of Pain and joy

Every emotion
Big or small
Fully charged
Packed and sealed
Every incident
Recoded in details
For the experience
Good or bad

If you want to learn
Whether there is any love
For you and mankind
You just need to turn
The page number twenty one

Chapter after chapter
Written with mixture
Of success and failure
If any one
Written badly
And Tastes sour
It is my life
Full of blood and flesh
Please pass on to another

poem by Abdul Wahab
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The Book Of My Life

Let me watch by the fire and remember my days
And it may be a trick of the firelight
But the flickering pages that trouble my sight
Is a book I'm afraid to write
It's the book of my days, it's the book of my life
And it's cut like a fruit on the blade of a knife
And it's all there to see as the section reveals
There's some sorrow in every life
If it reads like a puzzle, a wandering maze
Then I won't understand 'til the end of my days
I'm still forced to remember,
Remember the words of my life
There are promises broken and promises kept
Angry words that were spoken, when I should have wept
There's a chapter of secrets, and words to confess
If I lose everything that I possess
There's a chapter on loss and a ghost who won't die
There's a chapter on love where the ink's never dry
There are sentences served in a prison I built out of lies.
Though the pages are numbered
I can't see where they lead
For the end is a mystery no-one can read
In the book of my life
There's a chapter on fathers a chapter on sons
There are pages of conflicts that nobody won
And the battles you lost and your bitter defeat,
There's a page where we fail to meet
There are tales of good fortune that couldn't be planned
There's a chapter on god that I don't understand
There's a promise of Heaven and Hell but I'm damned if I see
Though the pages are numbered
I can't see where they lead
For the end is a mystery no-one can read
In the book of my life
Now the daylight's returning
And if one sentence is true
All these pages are burning
And all that's left is you
Though the pages are number

song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lonely Leaf

Lonely leaf
trembles
at the feeble moment

It's on the verge of falling
It's about to merge with limitless nature!

Air is guest to leaf once
now will become constant companion

Bond with tree
soon will be abandoned

The moment came
parting is always pain
fighting against time is invain
finally tree says farewell to the leaf

Now leaf realises boundless 'freedom'
It's floating like free bird
It is 'gone with the wind'

Leaf lost it's green colour
wearing pale colour
Colour hardly matters!
Leaf sings song of freedom

Bond with tree is bound
Feeling freedom is ecstasy abound

poem by Mula Veereswara Rao
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Another Leaf.....

another leaf

another year
another seed to plant
another tree to grow

there will be no hiding from now on
there will be more
confrontations

no one to trust
everyone is a suspect

love of self
nothing greater than this

another leaf
of the book to turn to
another page
to write on the journal

tomorrow is my day
my own unique beginning

you were all disappointments
my food came to the wrong mouths

there is no wishing for death
for me or for anyone

there is more use to reason now
rather than the flings of the heart

another sun for me
another new moon

my shadows follow me
and not otherwise

another leaf
without a worm

another glistening leaf
dew forgiven.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Smallest Leaf

Consider the way of smallest leaf
That grows on the biggest tree
Humbly serving in the life it lives
Just from planting a tiny seed

Serving from the lowest to the highest branch
With total faith to the tasks it’s given
Devoted to dress the naked tree
By the reason that it is living

Enduring the rush of unnatural storms
As the whistling wind sustains its blow
And loyal it hangs through the burning heat
As its maturity starts to show

While its colors adorn the autumn trees
And a new season begins
Where drooping trees portray the scene
That its life is near the end

A call to destiny pulls the leaf
From all thoughts of what could be
Replaced by a bud that will grow in time
As the tree hopes for a bigger leaf

Strong stands the tree that rejects the leaf
After a lifetime of servitude
Though it serves no more value on the tree
The tree still needs it for food.

poem by Kelvin Gene Lee I
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The Flask of Time

There is a single leaf flying
in this my autumn gloaming,
a leaf fluttering light
as if being orchestrated
by your words in flight
rushing to my inner ear;
'I have fallen in love
with another you said.'

My leaf stammered,
swaying in its downward flight
unable to remount the tree,
terrified to crash the ground
suspended forever there
as was also true of your words;
better to not reach my inner ear
better to not have my leaf touch down dead.

Between us all these years
neither war, nor peace;
we existed in the troubled middle ground
purgatoried, unsensed, fluttering, leaf bound
frozen between tree and ground.

Now you have burned our tree down-
lit the leaf and made it flame-
and pulled from under us the very ground.

No matter the dead leaves, the burning tree
no matter the absent ground
these things will
in turn return
for the seasons never-end.

Therefore, I shall take my sip of sorrow
sipped slowly from my Flask of Time
and await
the Spring.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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It Is About The Entire Performance

It is highly unlikely...
But,
Nothing is impossible...
That a leaf,
Connected to a twig or a branch...
Of a rooted tree,
Would not have a clue...
How it is associated with the process,
Of life.

Or...
That it accepts it has nothing to do with it at all.

However...
Attempts to deceive the other leaves,
They too are equally independent.
And can do what they wish...
With this being totally ignored,
By the Earth from which it feeds!
It is unlikely that a leaf would be that selfish.
But...
I BET it gets the point,
When that tree begins to give it signals...
Its leeching days,
Are not permanently attached.
And that leaf has to go!

And the Earth,
In agreement AND with approval given...
Knows WHO runs the show!
It is not about the part the leaf plays in the act.
It is about the entire performance that is important.
AND...
Has only ONE director.

'Some' leaves get this!
However,
Many do not.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Leaf

I, like a leaf I breath,
I absorber the sun light, into me,
then bring into the tree,
The root is it's heart,
soaking, the water with in,
of the tree where,
the branch I live upon,
the wind wafts as the sun sets,
I will die brown no longer green,
in this leaf is me.

poem by Walter C. Edwards
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Matters Of Observation

it is me lying on a bench
reading a book halfway through
the pages

for a break i close the book
earmark a page
and look at the jack fruit treetop
just beside the house

i am on the second floor
and no one is in the house

my wife is visiting a friend
who just arrived from the U.S.

there is no other creature except
a white butterfly hovering
on a sampaguita flower
in the small garden

the tree has more leaves
but it is not bearing any fruit
at all

i am reminded of those years
joys forgotten and now i am reading
a book about some shadows
of doubts
there is this systems that works
of patronage
refunds

i am situated in a plateau
and my Jesuit professor who dropped by
last night with a
'how are you? ' through the YM
must have understood that an
introvert like me has no
place outside
the books

i understand and frankly
i do not have to tell him how i feel about it

inside the pages
the stories are too many
my hero is dead.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Vantage Point

the leaf speaks to the tree,
'i am tree', pounding its chest!
the tree whispers with a smile,
'but my son i am leaf! '...
the ground beneath trembles with laughter,
'yes, and i am sky! '
then the wind comes,
and with a mighty rush,
blows them all away!

three voices rhyming in distant echoes...
'we are wind! '

poem by Eric Cockrell
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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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Destiny Life Leaf Pages

manuscripts we all life write
destiny life leaf pages
some leave empty pages white

others shimmer reflecting light

some smear pages with dirt
record chaos rip rub out hurt
how shall we fill manuscript pages...

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Family Tree

There's love within our family tree
and happiness abound.
Its roots are deeply planted
in rich and fertile ground.

We enjoy the rays of sunlight
and endure the winds and rain,
and when a leaf falls from our tree,
together we share the pain.

God gave us earthly families
and never did intend,
that bonds of love built on Earth
upon our death should end.

For when our life is over
and from earth our souls will flee,
one by one, leaf by leaf,
He'll rejoin our family tree.

poem by Ron Tranmer
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Elegy On The Death Of A Church Mouse

‘Colonel Gaddafi is dead; long live Gaddafi’,
- whose words those are?

don’t shoot, don’t shoot,
enough blood is spilled!
Gaddafi,
a leaf from the tree is dead;

leaf sprouts, leaf eats, leaf sleeps in the sky,
leaf waves the world in the cheer of palm,
makes no sand out of storm,
no beating themselves by the horse drain,
no hanging noose by the cock’s strain.

Leaf feeds the tree with green
when upon it’s tender face, the horrid-sun shine,
leaf, bearer of flower, bearer of seed,
never the taster of the sap from earth
till drops dead in the paleness of red,

‘don't shoot, don't shoot,
upon the sand is blood,
for the Colonel is dead’,
said, the tree,

and said, ‘Long live Gaddafi!

poem by Saranyan Bee
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