En.Citatepedia^®.ro

A Tribute to Motherhood-2

From the time
Of conception,
A mother
Nurtures like a gardener,
Who plants a seed
And tenderly
Watches it
Growing from a sapling to tree.

Her heart
Has the width of the sky.
She can’t hold anything
Against her children for long,
Even if she tries.

Her generosity,
Like that of the Sun
Which gives,
Life and light
To everyone

She is like a tree,
Rooted and grounded.
Where weary travellers
Come to rest
And birds build their nests.

She is humble like a river,
On the banks
Of which
Ever
Since creation,
Man has built civilizations

a mother,
Encompasses
The whole cosmos.

She has something of Divine
It’s no coincidence-
It was so by God designed.

poem by Mamta Agarwal
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The Seed And The Tree

Who can say for sure as to what came first: the seed or the tree?
If the seed came first where did it come from if not from the tree?
But then if the tree came first where did it come from except from a seed!
So then you'll have to re-ask again that question of the origin of the seed.

An endless circle with no logical conclusion soon appears
until one looks beyond the seed and the tree that it bears.
Although the seed comes from the tree and the tree from the seed
each one grows in the ground of mother Earth which both does feed.

The Earth is the womb of everything living and supports all we know
and then becomes the tomb back into which all forms one day must go.
The underlying essence of all nature is of consciousness-energy-intelligence
that includes and sustains all things despite our ever incessant belligerence.

Has anyone ever heard it said that God is in the form of the world
and so all within it carries a divine spark from which it has swirled.
God is the infinite eternal seed of all existence and can be experienced like this:
usually as an overwhelming love within us and as all power, knowledge and bliss.

So the seed and tree came from the Earth which itself has come from and exists in God
and to enquire where God has come from is useless if we haven't transcended this sod.
The limited mind of man has to merge into that unlimited universal mind of the Creator
only then can we know the original cause or final end of everything and of their Maker.
---------------------
Note:
This should remind one of the other similar paradox being that of 'the chicken and the egg'.

poem by George Krokos
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Sun -de- Light

Sorry but i must be damn,
on this feastive,
to everyone's delight,

excuse me shorty, (son)
to the crush, of the crump
cake cheese,

money fall far from the trees must be,
earth sin,

if i can complain,
plant this seed next to this greenre,
i much say it with a rush.

and let the sun come to delight,
and say that you are peach, (the son)
to a tree, (mother) of course,

winter to season, you sparke a connection
sonnie that is all right! ! !
smile for the camera! ! !

(father) a son, we will have making luv to sun up to sun down...
and sonnie this the light of the watch your grandpa,
gave to me under this tree,
your grandmother, my mother first came to be
and know at this tree.

i call this Tree 'sun de light'....
Our family Tree.

poem by Louis Borgo
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The Majestic Tree

They bow to the winds that pass
The beautiful majestic trees,  
With arms up toward the skies
They laugh in the summer breeze. 
They provide shade and shelter for the bee,  
He plants history, who plants a tree.
They provide lumber for houses, and barns
For a roof to cover our heads,  
Lumber for aeroplanes, ships and cars
And for caskets, to bury our dead. 
This is only a few uses you see
He plants history, who plants a tree.

They provide rest for the weary man
Food and protection, for many wild things,  
Home and sanctuary, for millions of birds
And rock their babies to sleep in swings. 
Their magestic grace so wild and free
He plants history, who plants a tree.

poem by Della Hodgson James
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The Tribe

Before language there were sounds and lines
Also pictures to explain or present warning signs.

The veracity of wind only by pressure and sound
Angry howls; before the rain strikes the ground.

The sun and its glorious light
Purpose and reason to lift the curtain and take away night

Lines to here and lines to where
Mother of nature created; to share.

A long hot journey with little rest
To seek refuge near water, always the best.

Early in the morning a Mother to proceed
Giver of life and the mentor, of each earthly seed.

The warriors are fed, then the children, and seniors next
She who keeps it all together; and is the last to get rest.

Since time began the creation to sustain life
Elevated titles of Mother and also the wife.

12-29-05 Aho Speaks

poem by AHO Speaks
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The Nicest Season For One To Die

The nicest Season for one to die must surely be the Spring
When the Parklands wear their Wildflowers and song birds pipe and sing
And young birds are chirping in their nests and the sparrows all the day
Are busy under the house eaves weaving their nests of hay.

If I'm not burned to ashes then why not bury me
In that old graveyard on the hill preferably by a tree
Where in Spring birds will build their nest and sing their songs above where I lay
Though what happens to your remains when you are dead doesn't matter some do say.

We all belong to Mother Nature and to her we must return sometime
The reaper takes the young and old and those in their life's
prime
And since I too must die I hope 'twill be when flowers are in full bloom
In the prime of Spring when the air scent sweetly of Nature's own perfume.

Bury me in the Graveyard on the hill where peace is to be found
Beside a tree where birds nest and sing content in their home ground
A quiet place free of man made noise when Spring is in the air
In Nature's bosom I will rest beyond any living care.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Mother! Oh Mother

Mother! oh mother!
Where are your children?
Where have they been?
Where have they lost?
Mother! oh mother
Am on you
Yet can't see you
Is you don't like me
Or you don't like us
Mother! your children
Some on edges
Many at peaks
Why are all not equal
Are all not your children?
Maa I understand you
You have lost your children
You are been polluted all over
Maa my mother
Please batter your creation
Batter and make it new
This is a humble request
From one of your children.

poem by Abhimanyu Kumar.s
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My Oak Tree

My taste for love is what I long,
The secret so full and free
My heart of love beats every day
Because of this Oak Tree

The beauty of its leaves, we seldom admire
Oh Creator Lord to thee
How foolish our paths would have been
If it wasn’t for this Oak Tree

How quickly this seed germinated
Our eyes could hardly see
I treasured every moment
Beneath this Oak Tree

As little children we play and hide
How sweet are those memories to me?
The games we played, the jokes we shared
Beneath this Oak Tree

I would never forget this Oak Tree dear
For she is very dear to me
It matters not how grey I get
For my Mother is that Oak Tree

I watched this tree as the leaves got dry
The limbs begin to break
I fell to my knees, and begged the Lord
“Please don’t you this Oak Tree take”

Lord, if this tree should bend its head
I dread that day to see
May time give way to that glorious day
When we meet in eternity.

poem by Troy Brown
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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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Mother Tree

In all my life I will never see,
something quite as unique as a tree.
The variety of juicy fruit that you may bear,
like the delicous orange, apple, or my favorite the pear.

From as soft as a peach,
to as hard as a nut.
From the multiple colors of and apple,
To the single shade of a cocoonut.

The mother tree always stands sturdy, alone, and divine.

A tree is meant to protect it's riches,
like the gold of a pharoahs tomb.
With it's branches reaching high into the sky to protect its treasure,
like children out of a mothers womb.

A tree to me is like an unspoken being,
quiet but very bold.
It always seems to stand tall,
whether its rain, drought, storms, or the bitter cold.

In all my life shall never see,
something as caring as a mother tree.

poem by Nyles Peele
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Mother Nature Is Crying 'Why

WIND- why do you howl so?
is it because you want to be heard
of all the pain you feel.
or is it that you must have the last word.

TREE-why do they call you the weeping willow?
is it because you are tired of crying
for all of humanitys errors.
and need to rest your head 'on a soft pillow'.

RAIN- why do you not cry as often as you used to.
you leave the land parched and dry
and the human heart, with a heavy sigh.

RIVER- why does your mind not flow
as clear and clean as the white snow
which falls from the skies.
is it because you're tired of the lies.

ICE GLAZIERS- why does your heart melt so.
is it because mankind is moving so slow.

OCEANS- why is your heart so deep with pain
that you reject the wind and the rain.

MOTHER NATURE- is crying and we do
not see or hear,
and she is in constant fear.

fear that we are destroying her children
and all that they have to give.
she is like any mother crying
'let my children live'.

my children are here to give you all that you need
if you just plant the seed.
the seed of love and devotion
is the only magic potion.

poem by Louis Rams
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Sonnet – Don’t Be

Don't be the fallen leaves, so young and green;
Don't be the buds that never can flower;
Don't be the twigs that always remain lean;
Don't be the flow'rs that dropp with each shower.

Don't be the branches growing very long;
Don't be the tree that never blooms at all;
Don’t be the nests that disallow Bird-song;
Don't be the fruits that hit the Earth by Fall.

Don't be the trunk hollowed by Birds, white-Ants;
Don't be the crown that can't get Sun or Rain;
Don't be the tree that grows not straight but slants;
Don't be the roots that prop the tree in vain.

Don't be the tree that grows on marshy-land;
Just be a tree secure in Maker's Hand.

poem by John Celes
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Banyan Tree

Banyan tree, banyan tree
that century old banyan tree
standing grandeurly for us to see
banyan tree, banyan tree.

Cool breeze passing through
seeking blessings of banyan tree
branches shaking in approval
banyan tree, banyan tree.

Glassy green with majestic trunk
touching the earth, not breaking free
shelter home for different birds
banyan tree, banyan tree.

Yellowish streaks, some with reddish tinge
welcome every season with a glee
symbol of eternal life
banyan tree, banyan tree.

Shedding leaves, like tears falling
a grandfather lamenting on its knees
new plants cuddling around
banyan tree, banyan tree.

Lord Buddha became its buddy
meditation was the only key
peace you get underneath
that is why it is banyan tree.

Banyan tree, banyan tree
wish fullfilling, it is banyan tree
just pray here and let you see
Banyan tree, banyan tree.

A life giver and just for free
Banyan is my national pride
preserve these at any cost
don't commit a homicide?

God blessed us with banyan tree
heat absorbing banyan tree
has healing powers this banyan tree
banyan tree, banyan tree.
---- X -----
copyright/Children of Lost God/Tribhawan Kaul
All rights reserved

poem by Tribhawan Kaul
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Tribal Women

Tribal Women

Before language there were sounds and lines
Also pictures to explain or present warning signs.

The veracity of wind felt by pressure and to hear sound
Angry howls before the rain finally stikes the ground.

The golden sun with its glorious light
Purpose and reason to lift the curtain and take away the night.

Lines to here and lines to where
Mother of nature created to share.

A long hot journey with little rest
To seek refuge near waters their eventual quest.

Early in the monring a Mother first to proceed
Giver and carrier of life and mentor of each earthly seed.

The warriors are fed, then the children and seniors next
She who keeps it all toether and is the last to get rest.

Since earthly time began the creation to sustain the human for life
To acknowledge her God as a Mother; after she became a wife.

11-07-06 Aho Speaks

poem by AHO Speaks
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See and Feel

See the tree
That shed its leaves
To face the cold winds
Of winter.

Feel the sweetness
Of the honey that bees
Gathered from flowers
In spring.

See the contentment
Of a cow ruminating
In the shade of a tree
In summer.

See the anxiety
Of the farmer
Awaiting the rains
In monsoon season.

See the effort
Of parents to provide
Better future
For their children.

See the way chicks
Open their beaks
When mother bird
Feeds them.

Feel the sharpness
Of the sword
See the power
Of the written word
Feel the love
Hidden in the heart
See the success
Of man's thoughts...

Until the ability
Of observation
Is completely lost
In seasons and activities
In trees and hills
In the nests that birds build
See all that you can see
With renewed curiosity.

poem by Tirupathi Chandrupatla
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They stuck by the children.

His mother and his father's mother
Had not been in talking term for life.
Yet they had no enmity between them.
His mother let her love them, six children,
Which should have softened his grandmother.
Her care for them must have pleased his mother.
They never sat near nor scolded each other.
Yet they could not be in enmity
For both wanted the welfare of the children.
It was she who nursed her in her death bed.
Her own sisters, nephews and nieces fled
As the birds did when the tree turned fruitless.
She felt her guilt and confessed it to her
Who, as blessed, had had a good death later.
13.11.2012

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Sonnet- Nature Is Wonderful

A Banyan sapling's growing on the wall;
From near the drainage-pipe, luxuriantly;
Astonishing the people near-by all;
Its trunk looks almost like a mini-tree.

Look how, the leaves appear so verdant, stiff;
The aerial roots are three metres in length;
The tree looks gorgeous as if on a cliff;
And everyday, God gives it greater strength.

Bless'd is the Bird who spat the Banyan-seed;
Thanks to the water o'er-flowing from tank;
'Tis photo-synthesis, soil-less, indeed;
It cant grow fast like ones on River-bank.

But if the roots manage to reach the ground,
The tree will live a thousand years, ‘Tis found.

poem by John Celes
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Red Browed Firetails

One can't mistake them for their scratchy song
To small seed eating family of birds they belong
Some call them red browed finches others the red browed firetails
And the females hard to distinguish from the males.

With red bill and brows and neck and unders gray
And red rump, dark tail and greenish wings I see them every day
They perch on fence wire near where paddocks are
And to get their food they don't have to fly far.

They live in small flocks on a diet of seeds
And I see them often amongst grasses and weeds
Of the human kind they do seem rather shy
And from the paddock to the fence they fly.

On sapling tree or creeper they build their globe nest of dried grass or hay
Where they lay up to six eggs of white to gray
And their nests hard to find and well hidden away
From currawong and other birds of prey.

Red browed firetails or finches birds I often see
On paddock fence wire or on branch of tree
Of human kind they have a healthy fear
And they fly away if to them you come near.

poem by Francis Duggan
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If People Where More Like Birds

Birds bring you love and light,

They are happy to fly around you day and night,

If people were more like birds,

There would be only loving words.

Yes, birds are as happy as can be,

Singing praise of Mother Earth joyfully

while flying from tree to tree.

How nice it would be if everyone was more

like a bird so happy and carefree and loving

Mother Earth Dearly.

poem by Suzae Chevalier
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If People Where More Like Birds

Birds bring you love and light,

They are happy to fly around you day and night,

If people were more like birds,

There would be only loving words.

Yes, birds are as happy as can be,

Singing praise of Mother Earth joyfully

while flying from tree to tree.

How nice it would be if everyone was more

like a bird so happy and carefree and loving

Mother Earth Dearly.

poem by Christina Sunrise
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Knowing Of A Tree

It is a good thing indeed
When someone plants a seed
And to watch and help it grow
So someday, it to be a tree.
It is a good thing in truth
When a tree brings forth its fruit
Or to shade someone's head
Or its branch be a robins nest.
It is good when a tree is used
By nature, or by me or you
To protect or shelter lives
For a tree; it never dies.
A tree is someone's home
A tree is someone's good book
A tree is never alone,
For to know a tree, all you do; is look.
It is good to plant a tree
It is good to plant a seed
For someday it will be grown
And a tree, will be known.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
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