Penelope's Song
Little soul, little perpetually undressed one,
Do now as I bid you, climb
The shelf-like branches of the spruce tree;
Wait at the top, attentive, like
A sentry or look-out. He will be home soon;
It behooves you to be
Generous. You have not been completely
Perfect either; with your troublesome body
You have done things you shouldn't
Discuss in poems. Therefore
Call out to him over the open water, over the bright
Water
With your dark song, with your grasping,
Unnatural song--passionate,
Like Maria Callas. Who
Wouldn't want you? Whose most demonic appetite
Could you possibly fail to answer? Soon
He will return from wherever he goes in the
Meantime,
Suntanned from his time away, wanting
His grilled chicken. Ah, you must greet him,
You must shake the boughs of the tree
To get his attention,
But carefully, carefully, lest
His beautiful face be marred
By too many falling needles.
poem by Louise Gluck
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Carefully
You are free to chose,
that’s why
carefully use every word.
Carefully measure every step,
if you don’t want to be swept.
Carefully do all you’ve conceived.
and…if you want to be believed
and… to achieve your aim
it’s not a shame
to start carefully a new song.
And it doesn’t matter if it is long.
If you carefully do all that
you will never regret.
Larisa R (Odessa, Ukraine)
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Lines of Shadow
Boughs of the Tree bow
Before birds' new melodies
Really different glow
Inspiring lines like these...
'Tis not the Tree singing today
Rather its shadow spreading
Sheltering birds everyday
Attentive to their living.
Its genuine Song of purity
And joy dwells deeply inside
To be chanted in the eternity
And treasured by the heart and mind.
July,2012
poem by Maria C. Costa
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The Spice-Tree
This is the song
The spice-tree sings:
"Hunger and fire,
Hunger and fire,
Sky-born Beauty—
Spice of desire,"
Under the spice-tree
Watch and wait,
Burning maidens
And lads that mate.
The spice-tree spreads
And its boughs come down
Shadowing village and farm and town.
And none can see
But the pure of heart
The great green leaves
And the boughs descending,
And hear the song that is never ending.
The deep roots whisper,
The branches say:—
"Love to-morrow,
And love to-day,
And till Heaven's day,
And till Heaven's day."
The moon is a bird's nest in its branches,
The moon is hung in its topmost spaces.
And there, to-night, two doves play house
While lovers watch with uplifted faces.
Two doves go home
To their nest, the moon.
It is woven of twigs of broken light,
With threads of scarlet and threads of gray
And a lining of down for silk delight.
To their Eden, the moon, fly home our doves,
Up through the boughs of the great spice-tree;—
And one is the kiss I took from you,
And one is the kiss you gave to me.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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The Beauty Tree
I see a tree sitting in the stream
flowing past it as the waters gleamed
time twisted and turned the roots ashore
the flowers of the tree of which i adore
falling to the clear water at its floor
keeping the tree buried in the cold water
just like the seeds broken from a poor plotter
a season to come and a season to leave
to the water i will always forever cleave
but as the leaves begin to stray away
the sun shining upon the dieing day
the tree although not so beautiful anymore
begins a new journey upon the midday shore
poem by Branden Aeling
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The Disgarded Garden
Their once was a young man who wanted to become a Gardner. There once was a young Rose Tree that wanted a Gardener. They met each other one summer day and began what seemed to be a beautiful relationship. The Gardner was attentive of his garden along with his Rose Tree and the Rose Tree was so happy that its tender branches grew and it bloomed continuously for the Gardner so he’d always be happy.
As time went by the Rose Tree noticed that Gardner wouldn’t tend to her as much as he once did. And when he did he would cut away harshly at the Rose Tree. The Rose Tree being a simple plant who did not need much attention still bloomed for the Gardner. It seemed the more she tried, the more the Gardner would cut away and the tree was now nestled in the ground. Why could this be? He had a bountiful garden that any Gardner would have loved to have. What more could anyone want thought the Rose Tree.
Now in an abandoned garden the Rose Tree grows back its branches, with very thick thorn’s to protect it self. As time goes by one day, out of nowhere appears a Gardener who has silently admired the Rose Tree from outside the garden gates and begins to nurture the Rose Tree in her garden. He tenderly and sympathetically pulls away all the weeds and brush from the Rose Tree so the air, rain & sunshine can reach her again. Allowing her the opportunity to grow back as she once was; vibrant, strong, colorful and to be simply, herself.
This is something the Rose Tree had long forgotten and is very grateful for the loving words of encouragement and kindness that her new Gardner has shown. She longingly awaits for his visits and when the Gardner comes to see her she bloom’s for him and relaxes underneath his beautifully kind smile. My darling Gardner, I am glad fate has brought you to walk along the path leading to the once lost garden and Rose Tree.
poem by Sarah Barron
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The Legendary Upas Tree for friend Chandra
The legendary Upas Tree
As I drew near the Upas tree
I felt a sudden lethargy.
I was devoid of energy
The Upas tree had captured me.
To satisfy its appetite.
With promises of sheer delight
it undermined my will to fight.
I must resist with all my might.
I will succeed in breaking free
and then destroy the Upas tree.
Then I discover suddenly
I am inside the Upas tree.
This is no dream or fantasy.
Alas it’s grim reality.
My struggles were to no avail
The tree must win I had to fail.
If you should find a Upas tree
avoid it very carefully.
Few men caught by this strange tree
ever succeed in breaking free.
One man lived to tell his story
How he escaped eventually.
But no one believed that there could be.
A sentient man eating tree.
I was a fool and paid no heed
To tell the truth I saw no need
and that is how I came to feed.
The Upas tree’s unholy greed.
20/08/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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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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Last Senses
If I only have few words to say
I will use them to from a song to make you smile
And no, I’ll never regret
If I only have few sight to look
I will use them to open your eyes out of the darkness
And no, I’ll never stop to hope
If I only have few catch to hear
I will use them to listen carefully and try to understand
And no, I’ll never let tears falling
If I only have few strength to hold
I will use them to give you warmth you really need
And no, nobody will rip it away
If I only have few breaths to last
I will use them to save time for you to live
And no, it’s never goodbye
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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~~It was May, The Summer of my 12th Year~~
My fathers' field
acre upon acre of hay
barren in May
from winters blight
perfect for me to play
~~
Flat land
as far as I could see
except for one huge pine tree
a young boy, idealistic still
I thought this tree was grown for me
~~
I climbed the tree most every day
climbing right to the very top
branches formed a perfect seat
magically sitting there
time would stop
~~
Wind would blow, branches creaked
the tree and I swaying with the breeze
protected in my tree
ignorant of life's confusion...
its little ambiguities
~~
Now I wonder, as I sit
in these my twilight days
if only I could travel back
to that my 12th year in May
to hear the wind, smell the pine
and feel the boughs as they sway
~~
I would love to whisper one more time
to my very special tree
thank you so for keeping me safe
and all the memories
but most of all for the excitement
and the passion for feeling free
poem by Peter Shea
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0145 Chinese Landscape
The old pine tree
leans out from the rocks
over the still lake
with respect
though no-one guesses this
once a month
the pine tree is silhouetted
against the rising moon
though no-one knows this
its roots drink gratefully
from the generous water
though no-one sees this
its branches murmur to
the lapping lake-water as old friends
though no-one hears this
except you and I and the artist -
nature
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Shake The Tree
Id love to take this lying down
But the world we know has lost its crown
All night talk n jazz cigarettes
Is never gonna change this killer town
I see her walking
In perfect time
She gives me reason
To carry on
Round the corner comes salvation
Made to order is what you found
Why oh why do we fool ourselves
Is it just the need to carry on
I see her walking
In perfect time
She gives me reason
To carry on
Shake the tree you find
Shake dont cut it down
Glamour takes its toll on you
Throw away whats out of view
Pearls of wisdom hang around your neck
They warm to the touch of your perfect skin
High, high, high, high
High, high, high, high
I see her walking
In perfect time
She gives me reason
To carry on
Shake the tree you find
Shake dont cut it down
Shake the tree you find
(I see her walking in perfect time)
Shake dont cut it down
(she gives me reason)
To carry on
I see her walking
In perfect time
She gives me reason
To never say die
I see her walking
In perfect time (shake)
She gives me reason (the tree you find)
To never say die
Shake the tree you find
song performed by by INXS
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fitrah
I saw a kite yesterday and it was beautiful,
But every egg must be carefully boiled;
For this lady's guiltiness is still with her.
I am Fitrah and every woman must be carefully kissed,
For i saw this beautiful kite up high yesterday;
And like the beautiful leaf under the big tree.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Unravel
The bat unravels
His life
By flying high inside the dark caves
But also people went into the dark caves where the bats were
And they never made a sound
Also I congratulated them because they are brave
Eventhough inside of the cave was water and they went for a splash Also
But they caught some eel for them to have for dinner
But the german men that went in the cave found so many water snakes and He caught some water snakes for his dinner and he grilled The water snakes Outside the caves but the other people had to eat The eel raw
But the German men said that the snakes tasted so good that Reminded him of grilled chicken
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Mantree
Man & Tree.
There was a spruce tree in the forest, he had
watched it grow from spindly sampling to
a handsome young tree, and thought of it as
the son he never had.
But shortly before Christmas it disappeared
he went to the market in town where they sold
hundreds of trees for those who want the real
thing, but couldn’t find it there.
After the festivities he found his tree on a dump,
green needles gone, now it was brown, he took
the dead plant home and used as kindling to lit
the fire on cold, soggy days.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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On Tree
Just a plain old TREE. I Ignored the weather
satisfied with me. I Looked at TREE.
What if anything do I knoe about TREE.
It used to be a thing made out of wood, always tall,
with branches near the ground. Roots fingering the ground.
Life comes up somehow to TREE. Water cascades down to ground, seeping slowly into ROOT. ROOT transmogrifies
the water into inner sanctum stuff known only to the Lord.
People still tell me, Tree just cannot live.
There is no real feeling in TREE.
There is knowledge in TREE or it would be a blade of grass.
People say the life is in the seed or sapiling.
I think the knowledge is in the MAN, the ONE who can.
He Makes all the TREE begin, upon a distant planet,
Creates the thing again, in the courtyard of his KING.
And every meadow of his earth.
The ONE who gave me birthe the second time around.
The ONE who gave me TREE.
And Time to write this down.
poem by Charles Hice
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Flute-Priest Song For Rain
Whistle under the water,
Make the water bubble to the tones of the flute.
I call the bluebirds song into the water:
Wee-kee! Wee-kee-kee!
Dawn is coming,
The morning star shines upon us.
Bluebird singing to the West clouds,
Bring the humming rain.
Water-rattles shake,
Flute whistles,
Star in Heaven shines.
I blow the oriole's song,
The yellow song of the North.
I call rain clouds with my rattles:
Wee-kee-kee, oriole.
Pattering rain.
To the South I blow my whistle,
To the red parrot of the South I call.
Send red lightning,
Under your wings
The forked lightning.
Thunder-rattles whirl
To the sky waters.
Fill the springs.
The water is moving.
Wait -
Whistle to the East
With a magpie voice.
Wee-kee! Wee-kee-kee!
Call the storm-clouds
That they come rushing.
Call the loud rain.
Why does it not come?
Who is bad?
Whose heart is evil?
Who has done wickedness?
I weep,
I rend my garments,
I grieve for the sin which is in this place.
My flute sobs with the voice of all birds in the water.
Even to the six directions I weep and despair.
Come, O winds, from the sides of the sky,
Open your bird-beaks that rain may fall down.
Drench our fields, our houses,
Fill the land
With tumult of rain.
poem by Amy Lowell
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Shadows Of Light
Somewhere in shadow hides my fate, I am at ease to live and wait.
For all the years I've lived thus long, are merely first chords of a song.
The song of standing on my own, just me to face the great unknown.
The song of having to ignite, the flame that makes my future bright.
The song of success sings at last, my future path set hard and fast.
Marching at my own pace seems, the only way to realise dreams.
Schooling years just begun; those teenage years one more re-run.
The song of study as I yearn to know those things still yet to learn.
College, Uni, all so new, reviewing actions, see things through.
Equipped at last for the big OE, decision time; where shall it be?
The song of bustle, in some city, toil is tough; now that's a pity.
The song of outdoors hot and dry, always free beneath blue sky.
Songs from memory call me home, call for me no more to roam.
Home once more among the fold, dormant thoughts yet to unfold.
Meet the one with whom to share, secret moments all too rare.
The song of partner, my own family, contented days and years to be.
The song of children's cries of glee, excitement building joy the key.
The song within of being free, found at last what's meant too be.
poem by Rod Morris
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A Pine Tree in My House
A tree that grows in my garden
A robust pine tree
Stands big and Proud
Sinks its roots deeply into the Earth
A pine tree in my house
Spreads its seeds every where
Sheds needles all over
Drops big cones onto my lawn
Survives within the sun
Ambles forth in all direction s with each gust of wind
Bends over the roaring storm
Tosses its branches in magnificent enthusiasm
Attracts the colors of a million sunsets into its needles leaves
Sways gracefully with the wind
Whispers with the blowing breeze
Cuddles joyfully with the changing seasons
Tries to reach the sky!
Looks beautiful in a peaceful state,
Is wise in its silence
Grows lush in all seasons
Allows the birds to perch and soar
Never holds them back
Never pines for their return when they fly away
If our hearts were like pine trees
We would have no apprehension in our minds
No one would wish to bring us down
No one would wake us up at night
A pine tree in my house
I Call it the tree of paradise
What I’ve got, I know it matters
For paradise, I wish to pave the way!
poem by Dr Shamim ali
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Oh unchanging tree
Such a beautiful thing Is a tree.
In summer, in winter, in spring, in fall
the beauty of a tree, doesn't change at all
The leaves fall to the ground
all the richest beautiful color
can be found
The snow falls
but it doesn't hurt the tree,
it just lays on it's branches
like frosting on a cake
Then it gets warm, the snow melts.
Say goodbye to to winter, say hello to sping.
New life is such a beautiful thing
But so is the tree, the beautiful mighty tree.
That stands alone as the seasons pass
as when you were old or just a lass.
A tree must have a heart, because when it falls to the ground.
No Joy can be found..
So when you see a tree say hello, they can get lonely you know.
Tell them a story, tell them a poem, they will listen.
This I know
poem by Summer Song
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The Creation of the Moon
The man cut his throat and left his head there.
The others went to get it.
When they got there they put the head in a sack.
Farther on the head fell out onto the ground.
They put the head back in the sack.
Farther on the head fell out again.
Around the first sack they put a second one that
was thicker.
But the head fell out just the same.
It should be explained that they were taking the head
to show to the others.
They did not put the head back in the sack.
They left it in the middle of the road.
They went away.
They crossed the river.
But the head followed them.
They climbed up a tree full of fruit
to see whether it would go past.
The head stopped at the foot of the tree
and asked them for some fruit.
So the men shook the tree.
The head went to get the fruit.
Then it asked for some more.
So the men shook the tree
so that the fruit fell into the water.
The head said it couldn't get the fruit from there.
So the men threw the fruit a long way
to make the head go a long way to get it so they could go.
While the head was getting the fruit
the men got down from the tree and went on.
The head came back and looked at the tree
and didn't see anybody
so went on rolling down the road.
The men had stopped to wait
to see whether the head would follow them.
They saw the head come rolling.
They ran.
They got to their hut they told the others that the head
was rolling after them and to shut the door.
All the huts were closed tight.
When it got there the head commanded them to open the doors.
The owners would not open them because they were afraid.
So the head started to think what it would turn into.
If it turned into water they would drink it.
If it turned into earth they would walk on it.
If it turned into a house they would live in it.
If it turned into a steer they would kill it and eat it.
If it turned into a cow they would milk it.
If it turned into a bean they would cook it.
If it turned into the sun
When men were cold it would heat them.
If it turned into rain the grass would grow and the
animals would crop it.
So it thought, and it said, "I will turn into the moon."
It called, "Open the doors, I want to get my things."
They would not open them.
The head cried. It called out, "At least give me
my two balls of twine."
They threw out the two balls of twine through a hole.
It took them and threw them into the sky.
It asked them to throw it a little stick too
to roll the thread around so it could climb up.
Then it said, "I can climb, I am going to the sky."
It started to climb.
The men opened the doors right away.
The head went on climbing.
The men shouted, "You going to the sky, head?"
It didn't answer.
As soon as it got to the Sun
it turned into the Moon.
Toward evening the Moon was white, it was beautiful.
And the men were surprised
to see that the head had turned into the Moon.